CHAPTER ONE
LOGAN
I pace back and forth, my shoes hitting the pavement as I cross my arms over my chest and look over at the schmuck sitting down in front of me. The same schmuck I helped put behind bars just six months ago—Tony “Killer” Black. He’s leaning back in the chair with his legs spread wide and his arms lax over his body as if this interrogation is an inconvenience to him.
“Where were you last Saturday at eight p.m.?” I repeat, louder this time. This guy has a criminal background that goes back to his teen years, and yet, he sits here all smug as if he’s smart enough to get out of it.
He chuckles, keeping his eyes everywhere except on mine, and finally replies, “I don’t recall.”
The corner of my lips tilt upward, knowing damn well he’s lying through his teeth. We’ve got him
