“No, idea,” I answer. “Any cases that stand out to you as potential suspects?”
“Well, the Bertelli murder was just a few weeks ago. I…I just asked the officer in charge this week why there weren’t any arrests yet and had him send me all the reports to review…”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “If I had to bet, it was that little shit Bowen Bertelli who sent this guy.”
“What? Weston Bertelli’s son? Why wouldn’t he want me to put away the person who killed his father? His sister sure as shit does.”
“Because Bowen’s the most likely suspect!”
Her jaw drops. “You think Bowen killed his father?”
“Not personally, but he probably hired someone to do it. Someone I doubt you’ll ever find. Or you wouldn’t, if he did better than this attempt.”
“You think Bowen sent the detective after me so I wouldn’t charge him? I don’t think there’s any evidence pointing to a single suspect. The detective has no leads…”
“Bowen’s not the brightest bulb in the box, but he wouldn’t want you or anyone else looking too hard into his father’s murder,” I tell her before refocusing on the task at hand. “You got some old blankets or something to wrap this fucker in?”
“What about his family? His friends?” she asks, not budging from the doorway.
“What about them? They’re probably as shady as he was if was willing to take money to kill you. Ballsy, but stupid.”
“They’ll never know what happened to him, never have closure…” she trails off as if she pities them.
“Too fucking bad. I wonder how many murders he never solved if the price was right. Piece of shit.” I kick his head and Kirsten scoffs. “What? He’s dead; you already killed him.”
“That’s not what I was scoffing at. It’s your audacity. You’re just like him!” she says, pointing to the dead guy.
“No, I’m fucking not.”
“You kill people and then cover up the murders all for territory or money, right? What’s the difference?”
“The people I’ve —” I snap my mouth closed since I know better than to give her any more ammunition to use against me. She already hates me and knows I’m a killer. “You know what, it’s none of your fucking business what I do or why. Now, are you going to find something for me to wrap this son of a bitch up in or should I just throw him over my shoulder and haul him out of here?”
“Asshole,” she mutters under her breath before she turns away, heading back into her bedroom.
A few minutes later, the dead guy is wrapped tight in multiple layers of bedding so none of his blood will leak through before we get him out of the building. Or at least that’s my hope. I’ve just finished making a burrito out of him with Kirsten silently watching me when there’s a knock on the apartment door. She gasps and looks toward the living room.
“I’ll get it. It’s probably just my cousins,” I say to calm her down. I don’t like seeing wide-eyed fear on the usually fearless woman’s face.
“I can’t believe I’m letting Creed and Andre Ferraro into my house, two more defendants —”
“They’re no longer defendants since you dismissed the charges. If anyone sees the three of us here tonight, they’ll just assume you’re a dirty slut who likes to fill every hole at the same time,” I assure her.
Groaning, she shoves my shoulder, pushing me into the hallway wall, and heads for the door as I hurry after her.
“Wait a fucking second,” I hiss at her in a whisper. “We don’t know for sure it’s my people. What if it’s someone else who wants you dead working with the detective?” I grab her shoulders and pull her away from the peephole, then take a look myself.
“It’s your people, just dressed like they’re out for a run.”
“I told them to come in a disguise rather than their usual suits. God, you really have so much to learn about getting away with murder.”
“Asshole,” she calls me while I unlock all the locks on the door and open it.
“You gonna tell me what this is about now that you dragged me out of bed and off my wife’s perfect…” Dre trails off when he follows Creed into the apartment and spots Kirsten. “You have got to be shitting me. What the hell is this?”
“Someone came after her tonight, and Tristan asked us to come help him clean up the mess,” Creed explains.
“Why couldn’t you handle it yourself?” Dre asks me. “I don’t want to be any part of this…woman’s scheme. We barely got out of the last charges she threw at us.”
