Corrupted Angel

Chapter 160 Episode 160

The officer leads me away from the waiting room, and I cast one last look at Gabriel before I go. Heis sitting on one of the shabby chairs and smiles reassuringly. I see him wince as he lifts his glass totake a sip of water. It’s been several weeks, but his injuries are taking their damn time to heal. Atleast we don’t have another battle to fight anytime soon, so he has a bit of time to rest.

Not another physical battle, at least. A legal battle, on the other hand…

I am led through to a chilly interrogation room, where I take a seat on a cold metal chair. The officerleaves, and a second later, Derek Windsor, the detective investigating the slaughter at the penthousethat night, sweeps into the room, holding a folder.

I should have known that the criminal investigation into Gabriel would resurface again. I suppose thepenthouse full of corpses didn’t help things, though at least this time, the police haven’t formallypressed charges. And that makes it all much easier to fight. The police have nothing, and they know it,and without that rabid dog Ruby Flint biting at their ankles, their case is about to blow away like astraw house in a tornado. They’re hoping I’ll flip since without a witness’ testimony they’ve got zeroconcrete evidence. Good luck, folks.

“Ms. Wright,” Windsor begins, pulling out the chair opposite with a loud metallic shriek. “What wereyou doing in Mr. Bellucci’s penthouse on the night of the attack?”

Straight to it, then. Not a pleasantry in sight.

“We were hosting a dinner,” I reply.

“And who attended this dinner?”

Some of the most dangerous men and women in the city.

“Gabriel’s family friends.”

Windsor flips the file open on the table, and I try not to look too interested.

“Have you ever seen any of these family friends meet with Gabriel in private prior to this encounter?”he asks.

I c**k a brow. “As far as I know, that’s sort of what you do with friends.”

“Of course.” Windsor laughs at himself, but it comes out tinny and fake. “What I meant was, doesGabriel conduct regular meetings with all of these family friends?”

I cross one leg over the other. “It was the first dinner I’d attended or heard about. And it would havebeen absolutely lovely if not for the party-crashing gunmen. Why are you in here interrogating meabout Gabriel’s social habits when you could be out chasing down the Cartel?” I hit him with the fullforce of my displeased frown.

Windsor buckles a little, and I have to hide a smile.

“Right, yes,” he mutters. “Well, it’s just that some of Gabriel’s business dealings leave a few questionmarks. It seems like he might be involved in some illegal trading at a few of these properties.” Hepushes a few pages from the folder toward me, showing exterior shots of a pizza parlor, a laundromat,and Fiamma. “Plus, there don’t seem to be any Cartel members left to track down…”

Ah, Fiamma. Where it all began. My gaze lingers on the picture of the nightclub, and Windsor sitsforward excitedly.

“You know that one?” he says. “What can you tell me about Gabriel’s business there?”

I laugh bitterly. “I know that one because I’ve had a dance there once or twice. I have no idea whatyou’re talking about with all this illegal trading garbage, and frankly, I think this is all a massivewaste of my time.”

Windsor frowns. “Okay. Then tell me in your words, what happened the night of the attack on thepenthouse?”

That’s easy. I barely even have to lie.

“Gabriel saved my life is what happened,” I tell him, holding his gaze steadily. “We were having anice dinner with Gabriel’s family friends, and then the Cartel attacked. They told us themselves whythey were there—they were unhappy with his charity work because it had been impacting their drugtrade. They wanted to make an example out of Gabriel.” I drop my hand to my belly, making sureWindsor sees. “And of his family.”

I add a little sauce to my voice for that last sentence, and I watch Windsor’s eyebrows knit inconcern. I have to remember that anyone else who’d been through a night like the one where theCartel attacked would be absolutely traumatized.

I sniff. “They came bursting through the doors and started to round us up. I got away and called forhelp, but they caught me too. They were about to—” My voice breaks. “They were about to hurt thebaby. Gabriel’s security team came in at the last second, and Gabriel fought his way through theballroom to get to me and make sure the baby and I were safe. They shot him two times.”

I finish with a big fat tear rolling down my cheek. I deserve a f*****g Oscar for this. Whatever steeledge Windsor came in here with has been blunted by my performance, and he hands me a tissue.When he speaks next, his voice is softer. Kinder.

“I understand that you and Gabriel have a family together, but if he’s a bad man, you’re only going toget hurt.”

I want to snap that Gabriel would never let anything happen to me, but I’m playing a part. Plus, I’mnot that naive. I am a part of this now, and that might involve getting hurt somewhere down the line.I’ve made peace with that.

“Gabriel’s a good man.” I pat my tears dry like a grieving widow in a film noir. “He really caresabout people. He would never do anything to hurt anybody.”

“Okay.” Windsor sighs. There goes his case. I can almost see it drifting away behind him, like smokedisappearing into the vents. “But if you did want to tell us anything, Ms. Wright, we could protect you.You and your son.”

Time for the nail in the coffin. I reach across the table and clasp Windsor’s hand, smiling as thoughgrateful.

“Thank you, Detective Windsor, but I don’t need any help.”

He nods. “Okay. You can go.”

He escorts me back into the waiting area, where Gabriel is still in the same chair. He alreadycompleted his questioning.

“Ready to go?” Gabriel says, getting to his feet. His features pull taut as he fights through the pain.

I link my arm in his. “Let’s go.”

When we get outside, Gabriel pulls me to him on the curb before we get into the car. He kisses onecheek, then the other, and finally my forehead.

“What’s that for?” I ask, giggling.

Gabriel’s ink-black eyes swim before me. “I could have lost you that night,” he says. “I just want tomake sure I cherish every last second we spend together, even if it’s outside of a police stationfollowing your interrogation regarding my criminal pursuits.”

“Alleged criminal pursuits,” I correct.

He grins. “Let’s go home.”

We have been living in the house on the leafy street for a couple of weeks now, but I’m still not usedto the feeling of peace I get just from walking through the front door. It has been painted, decorated,and outfitted with handpicked furnishings, and now it is our home. This place doesn’t belong to theBellucci dynasty or to the mob. It belongs only to us—me, Gabriel, Harry, and soon another little onewho I can’t wait to meet.

I practically float through the front door. I’m so relieved that I can finally close this chapter of our life—the Cartel, Felicity Huffman, and the aftermath. It’s been a long few weeks, but it’s finally over.

“I want to sit on the deck,” I announce. Clara and Angelo have taken Harry out for the day, and sincemy interrogation took less time than I thought it would, we’ve got a couple hours to ourselves.

Gabriel, who had started to take his coat off, shrugs it back on. “It’s freezing outside.”

“So?” I grin.

He shakes his head, chuckling, and follows me through the house to the back door. The wooden deckwas freshly stained a couple of weeks ago, and the railings painted a delicate cream. I perch on oneof the comfy wooden deck chairs, and Gabriel brings me a blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders.

I have grown very fond of our backyard. It’s big, but not massive. It’s just big enough for a family likeours. There is a shed parked in the back corner, which I intend to fill with gardening tools once thespring comes back around. A crooked oak tree grows from the center of the yard, its gnarled branchesreaching for the sky. Perfect for a tree house, just like Gabriel promised. The grass is lush and green,if a little overgrown. I will trim it tomorrow.

Gabriel sighs as he sinks into the chair next to me. I reach for his hand.

“What do we do now?” I ask. “The Irish are gone. The Cartel are gone. The last of the purple heroinhas evaporated from the streets.”

“What do you want to do?” Gabriel counters. “We own the city. We can do anything we want.”

I can almost feel the limitless possibilities stretching out ahead of me. Anything we want.

So, Alexis, what do you want?