Page 146 of Depraved

He sat back in his seat, eyebrows slanted down, his finger nervously tapping on the table.

I sat back down. “You need to let me go so I can find Alyx.”

“Not a chance, Granite.”

“I’m serious. In here, I can’t do shit to find your daughter.”

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. The confidence he had when he strode in here was no longer there, but rather uncertainty. And maybe a little panic since I fucking threatened to make our business arrangement public.

“Did you take Alyx?”

“No.” I looked him square in the eye without batting a fucking eyelash. It was only half a lie, anyway, since I technically didn’t take her. The dead Python prospects did. Besides, if I wanted any chance to get out of here, I needed to convince our commissioner that I was still one the good guys.

He crossed his legs, finger still tapping away on the table. “Are you telling me you didn’t have my daughter? That three of my officers who claimed to see her at the scene are talking bullshit?”

I almost laughed. “I’m not that fucking stupid, Commissioner. I ain’t fucking talking in here.”

“You might as well, because you’re not leaving here until I find my daughter.”

“Goddammit!” I jerked up, the table screeching on the cement floor. “I can’t fucking help her if you have me locked in here. Get that through your thick motherfucking skull.”

Two uniforms came rushing in, but the commissioner held his hand up. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

One of the cops scowled at me, holding his gun at the ready.

“I said I’m fine. Get out,” the PC ordered.

“Yeah,” I snarled at them. “Get out.”

“Granite, for God’s sake. Sit the fuck down.”

I glared at the uniforms until they left, and only sat when the door closed behind them. If it wasn’t for these motherfucking cuffs, I would have gone savage on all of them.

The PC studied me, and I could fucking hear the wheels turning in his head. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“I told you, not in here.”

“I can’t let you go, Granite. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, even I don’t have that kind of power to pull you out of this fucking mess.”

I cursed, letting my head hang down. “How did you figure out where our safe house is?”

He shrugged. “It was an anonymous call. Said you had Alyx hidden in a house in Coney Island.”

I scrunched my nose and tugged at the cuffs again. “You tracked the call?”

“Yes. We tracked the call two streets from your house.”

“Fuck.” I let out a breath and leaned my head back, trying to figure out what the actual fuck was happening. Was it a coincidence that the same day the call got logged, cops ransacked our safe house, and Alyx disappeared? I thought not. It had to be the same person—the one who called, and the person who took Alyx. Or it was two different people working together. Jesus, if only I could get these goddamn wheels in my head to stop spinning and start figuring shit out.

“You know,” he started, “you and I have come a long way, and a part of me really wants to believe you are not the scum behind my daughter’s kidnapping. But currently, everything is pointing right at you, and I can’t ignore that.”

“Yet you can ignore how your wife is killing your daughter.”

That shut him right up, and his face went from pale to pink to bright red.

The commissioner flattened his tie down his chest, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “My personal life is not the issue here.”

I slanted my head to the side. “Is finding Alyx not personal to you?”