Mine To Protect (Mine #6)(41)
“Dammit…” Cain’s frustration was obvious.
Victor smiled at him. “Get me face-to-face with Roy. Do it now or I will use every bit of pull I have to take total control here.” Yeah, he was a bastard, and, right then, he didn’t care.
Zoe. I’m doing this for Zoe.
This…and so much more.
***
“Five minutes,” Cain muttered as he directed Victor toward an isolated cell in the back of the holding area. “We have five minutes back here, and then our asses are toast.”
Victor looked through those bars and saw Roy rising to his feet. He gave the bastard a grim smile. “I guess we meet again.”
“No!” Roy held up his hands. “I’m not talking to you. I’m not talking to anyone but my lawyer.” His face was bruised, one eye nearly shut. His nose swollen. His upper lip busted.
“Do you really care about Michelle?” Victor asked him. “Or was that some bullshit line you fed Zoe?”
Roy jumped toward the bars. “I love her!”
So much for talking only to his lawyer. With guys like Roy, it was all about knowing which buttons to push. “You love her and the two million you were going to get for Zoe?”
“Michelle was going to die!” Spittle flew from Roy’s mouth. “What was I supposed to do? Zoe was made when she headed into Dice. The wrong person saw her. Why do you think that other hitter was already in the alley? She was made. In this town, danger is always two f*cking steps behind you, so you have to learn how to walk real fast.”
Victor had wondered about that man in the alley. Had the hitman been in the shadows of Dice? Just outside, watching? But Victor would question that would-be shooter, soon enough. For now, his focus was on Roy.
Roy’s cheeks flushed. “I got a call from some guy, okay? Right after you two made the mistake of going into Dice. Fellow said he was at the Vine. Guy promised me that if I brought Zoe to him, then Michelle could live and I’d get the pay.”
Cain was silent. Did he buy the guy’s story? Victor didn’t. “The Vine…” Victor repeated the name even as he made the connection. He’d seen the sign for the place when he and Zoe first arrived in town.
“That’s where Michelle went to work,” Roy said quickly. “That casino—it’s a front, I know it. And when I got the call, telling me to bring Zoe if I ever wanted to see Michelle again, I-I just stopped thinking clearly. Panic took over.”
“When did you get the call?”
“Like I already told you—right after you walked into Dice.” He licked his lips. “Someone saw Zoe. Someone made the connection. I was told to get her, and I did.”
“When was the exchange supposed to take place?”
Roy’s stare jerked between him and Cain. “What will happen to me?” Roy asked. “I was a good cop…”
“When was the exchange supposed to take place?”
“I don’t know! I was told I’d get another call. That’s what I was waiting for at that motel! But then you *s took me into custody!” His voice rose as he yanked on the bars. “So I didn’t get the second call! I didn’t make the trade! And Michelle is going to die!”
Was the guy telling the truth? Or just making a desperate attempt to dig himself out of the serious shit-hole he’d already dug? Victor gave a grim nod. “Okay, let’s go back and take this story from—”
“You’re not taking anything.” The voice was smooth, smug, and coming from right behind him. “My client is done talking with you.”
Hell. He should have known that a lawyer would show up to spoil his fun. Victor threw a glance over his shoulder. “If your client wants to keep talking, that’s his choice.”
The brown-haired male in the suit that reeked of money smiled a bit, a faint curving of his lips. That smile didn’t reach his cold eyes. “My client isn’t talking because I don’t want him spending the rest of his life in a prison surrounded by inmates who want nothing more than to get payback on the cop in their midst.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Roy mumbled. “Jesus.”
“You’re done here,” the lawyer said to Victor. “I need to confer with my client.”
Victor turned to fully face the attorney. His gaze swept over the man, head to toe, taking his stock, not liking the guy at all with his stiff posture and cold eyes. “Didn’t catch your name,” Victor murmured.
“And I didn’t catch yours.” But the lawyer stepped forward, offering his hand.
Victor took that hand. “FBI Special Agent Victor Monroe.”
Once again, that faint smile appeared. Only this time, the lawyer’s eyes hardened. “I’m Xavier Winters. But my friends call me Tom.”
Sonofabitch.
***
He was so screwed.
Roy Duncan hunched over against the cell bars. He’d thought that he could get away clean. Get the money. Get his girl. And ride away into the sunset.
Now his ass was locked in a jail cell.
Cops couldn’t go to prison. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew the shit that waited for them in those hellholes. He couldn’t go down like that. There had to be a way out.
Footsteps padded on the concrete floor. His eyes locked on the dark-haired guy heading his way—the guy who’d identified himself as Roy’s attorney. Only the problem was that Roy had never seen that man in his life. The fellow sure as shit wasn’t his lawyer.