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“What the fuck, Henry?” I wave my hand. “You know what? Never mind. You can get the hell out of my office and stay the fuck away from me and my family.”
His jaw tightens. “A little late for that?—”
“You’re a bastard, you know that? I have to hand it to you. If this cop gig doesn’t work out, you can go to Hollywood. You’ll surely win an Oscar for your performance.”
“What are you talking about?”
Power surges through me, and I step toward him. “You and your ilk are a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites. Breaking the law, all for the greater good? You used my love for my brother to infiltrate my life. You fucked me for information. Is that part of your police training?”
His head snaps back like I’ve hit him. And boy, would I like to.
“Funny how breaking the law is only corrupt if you’re not a cop because I know without a doubt, you had no reason to come here today. I bet your cop buddies got a good laugh at your stories of how you fucked me. You’re a good storyteller, Henry, because your buddies wanted me to do to them what I did to you.”
“Fucking hell, Lana, what are you talking about?”
A wave of nausea hits me, revolted by the man in front of me and what he did. “Get out, Henry. And if you’re wise, you’ll stay away from me.”
His eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me?”
I lean in close to him. “That’s rich coming from the man who sent a man to physically assault me and suggest I could go free in exchange for sucking his dick. I don’t need to sic my family on you, Henry. I just need to report you and all your buddies to Internal Affairs.”
“It’s not likely you’ll be believed.”
I laugh. “Right, because of that blue code of yours. Funny how the more I learn about it, the more it sounds like a gang. And when that gang does illegal activities like violate my rights and assault me, now they’re a criminal organization. And when a criminal organization uses threats, intimidation, and extortion, well… that sounds like the Mob. Face it, Henry, you’re no better than the people you’re trying to bring down. In fact, if you’re in charge of those men in my office today, you’re a Mob boss.”
20
HENRY
What was once right side up is now upside down. And shaken. I can’t wrap my head around what Lana is saying. Oh, sure, I understand her anger. I’ve been on the receiving end of it before. But what she’s saying makes no sense. I’m not corrupt. My men aren’t corrupt.
Except… there was something off about the ones who executed today’s search. The search was sloppy, unprofessional. If they'd found anything, it probably would've been inadmissible in court. Were those cops really that inept? Or did they knowingly break protocol because they were dealing with the D'Amatos?
The thought unsettles me. As officers of the law, we're supposed to be better than that. We're meant to uphold the law, not bend it to suit our needs or personal vendettas.
I've always prided myself on being a by-the-book detective. But now, I'm questioning everything. If this is how some of our officers behave, what does that say about our department? About me? After all, I’ve been seeing a suspect. Sleeping with her. Wanting to help her.
I hope Peter can trace the call that initiated this fiasco. If it was another anonymous tip, like the ones we've been getting lately, it could shed some light on who's behind all this. Is it really the Rinellas, as Lana suggested? Or is there someone else pulling strings, using the police as pawns in their game?
And why hadn’t the tip come to me or Peter? Why had it gone to these two cops, who I was aware of but didn’t know personally? I hope Peter can find out what happened.
"You're supposed to be the good guys," she spits out. "Following the law, protecting people's rights. Instead, you're acting no better than the criminals you claim to be after."
Her words hit home. The cops who conducted that raid crossed a line. They've potentially compromised any future investigations into the D'Amatos.
It’s not a good feeling to be schooled on proper police procedure by a woman whose family makes their living in illegal acts.
“Now get out. Looking at you is making me sick.”
I stare at her, and for the first time, I see more than anger. I see pain.
That’s rich coming from the man who sent a man to physically assault me and suggest I could go free in exchange for sucking his dick.
I don’t know why it’s taken so long for that tidbit to filter through. Denial, perhaps. But now that it has, I’m wondering what she’s talking about.
“What did they say to you?”
I hate how she’s looking at me. Like I’m the bad guy. “You were there, Henry. You saw him.”
