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Sadie Sorento and Brandon Avenetti were destined to be together. Their families were already planning the wedding of the Italian mafia prince and princess long before the pair had even star...
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I'm going to kill Adam.
Not in the typical my-little-brother-is-annoying-me kind of way.
I might actually kill him this time.
After years of cleaning up his messes, this could be the one that puts me over the edge. I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, though. I'd have to actually see Adam to kill him, and considering I'm currently cuffed to an interrogation table in a downtown Denver police station with a whole slew of felony charges to my name, that might be easier said than done. The cuffs feel kind of extreme, like I'm some violent criminal who could attack at any second. In reality, my small, 5'6" Pilates-toned frame wouldn't do much damage to anyone.
My legs stick to the cool metal chair. I can't imagine what kind of diseases are crawling on this thing and the thought of my bare thighs touching it makes me sick, but when I left the house tonight in my denim cutoffs, this is the last place I expected to end up. Maybe that was optimistic of me, though. Some might even call it stupid to think I could drive across town with two kilograms of cocaine in my car and just return it like an ill-fitting pair of shoes.
I was barely out of our neighborhood before I caught the blinding red and blue flashers in my rear view mirror.
At this point, I don't even know how long I've been here and no one has even bothered to come in, which I know is on purpose. As the daughter of a mafia assassin, I'm well versed in interrogation tactics. My family teaches police strategy like they teach table manners just in case we ever found ourselves in custody, so I know exactly what they're doing. Somewhere behind that two-way mirror, a group of cops gather, watching my reaction as they ice me out. They think if they leave me here long enough, I'll get antsy and start talking.
They can make me wait as long as they want, though. I'm not going to implicate my brother. I might kill the idiot, but I'm not going to sell him out to the cops.
When the door finally creaks open, a man and a woman come in. The woman takes one of the seats opposite me, but the man comes straight to me and slides a key into the cuff lock, freeing my wrists.
"We're so sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Sorento. Would you like some water?" The man smiles. His chair scratches across the cement floor as he pulls it out and takes a seat next to his colleague.
As nice as water sounds, I decline because I know they're just trying to get my DNA.
"I'm fine." I say, rubbing my wrists. The overzealous cops that arrested me tightened the cuffs to the very last notch and it feels good to have them off.
It takes me a minute to realize that the detective used my real name, but when I do, every alarm bell I've got goes off. The name Sadie Sorento is buried deep in my past, and if he knows that's who I really am, then he knows a hell of a lot more.
His partner lands a pointed glare on me, but I don't let it phase me. I've seen this routine before. The good-cop-bad-cop shtick is so tired out that you'd think they'd come up with something new by now, but she certainly didn't get the memo. She's fully committed to the act, staring at me like she expects me to fold under the slightest bit of pressure.
