Chapter Twenty-Two
In the end, and at Jackson’s recommendation, I take the deal. But not because of Roxi. No, I have bigger fish to fry, too. It turns out the Feds were after Ferrari and Sokolov for human trafficking, and Stockton’s instincts were right on. Too bad they came a little too late. But I’m pissed as hell at the way those assholes used me. In all fairness, I used them too, but not to a***e women, and I want those fuckers to rot for that. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for not paying closer attention to them. My stomach still churns with disgust at the thought he might have been marking Roxi for trafficking, or worse, that they were trafficking women right under my nose.
A knock sounds at my door at the same time my phone rings. I glance at the clock. Six-f*****g-thirty.
