Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
We were working our way up to second base. Slowly. Not only did I not want to scare her off, but I had my own hang-ups to sort through. Giving up the way I sought pleasure meant giving up my armor.
“I didn’t rape your sister,” Tate snarled at Luca, pulling me out of my own thoughts.
Sam readjusted his tall frame in his seat, keystroking some commands on the polygraph.
“How about you shut the fuck up and wait for me to ask you questions?” he suggested pleasantly.
“You’re messing with my baseline diagram.”
Tate shot him a death glare.
“Don’t be so butthurt,” Enzo tutted. “If you did it, you deserve to die. You knew it could happen. Men in our line of work… We die while we’re still alive. Young and strong.”
“He’s not that young,” Sam said, staring at the screen.
“And not that strong,” I added.
Tate snarled. Swear to God, I was having an allergic reaction to him.
What did she even see in this bastard?
“What’s the accuracy rate on this shit, anyway?” Enzo flipped his knife shut, dismounting his feet from the desk and leaning to peer at the screen behind Sam’s shoulder.
“About eighty-seven percent, in the correct environment,” Sam grumbled.
“What constitutes a correct environment?”
“No chatty assholes bickering around me, messing with my interviewee,” Sam replied.
Luca and Enzo quieted down. I was glad Achilles was on Crimson Key. I didn’t need a full audience for what was about to unfold. Lila’s privacy mattered to me.
Sam rechecked that all the sensors were correctly applied on Tate and sat back. “Ready?”
Tate gave him another murderous glare. “Take a guess.”
“Is this about Tiernan hijacking your private plane and changing its course mid-flight to New York?” Enzo tapered his eyes. “Because I think we can all agree you’d have done the same for Gia.”
“Doubtful, since I’d had the fucking foresight to assign her security after I married her,” he bit out.
“Much good it did you.” I smirked.
A little over a year ago, I kidnapped his wife while she was under Camorra protection. But this wasn’t what interested me about the conversation. Tate was under the assumption Lila was raped after we got married. Alternatively, he was setting up the starting point for his elaborate lie.
Tate shook his head, staring at the ceiling. “How did you even find your way to my private plane?”
Easily. Almost everyone in every private airport around New York was in my pocket.
“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,” I said wryly. “And I need some answers before I do that. Shall we?”
Sam began by asking him simple enough questions—his full name, address, childhood pet names, and so on. It turned out that Tate had an unholy number of pets growing up. None of them made it to maturity, though. Sick little fuck. Sam proceeded by asking him if he attended Luca’s wedding (yes), who he came with (his wife), and where he stayed (at the La Casa Delle Rose, the Ferrantes’ six-star resort).
From there, he moved on to yes or no questions.
“Did you see Raffaella Ferrante at the wedding?” Sam watched the screen intently.
“Yes,” Tate answered.
“Did you speak to her?”
“No.”
“Did you interact with her in a nonverbal way?”
“No.”
“Did you follow her out of the ballroom at approximately ten thirty at night?”
“No.”
“Did you touch her during the entire duration of the night?”
“No.”
Tate’s tone was clipped, his posture and expression bored. I caught Sam’s gaze.
“Well?” I asked.
“He’s not bluffing.” Sam tilted the screen so I could see it. “The needle didn’t budge.”
“Psychopaths lie and pass polygraphs all the time,” I countered. “They will themselves to believe whatever comes out of their mouths.”
I wanted Tate to be the rapist. Angelo was a can of worms I wasn’t sure I wanted to open. And killing Luca’s brother-in-law was essentially starting a war with the Outfit.
“That’s generally true if the heart and respiratory rate are already jerky and inconsistent. Tate’s as calm as a cucumber. There are no discrepancies.” Sam shrugged. “I think he is telling the truth.”
I dragged my teeth along my lower lip, mulling this over. Lila said she forgot the face of her attacker—but did it really make sense that she’d draw Tate and his features wouldn’t bring back the memory if it were him?
Plus, as much as I hated him, he didn’t give me rapist vibes. Now, Angelo, on the other hand, was the kind of prick to take what’s not been offered. A Mafia brat who had the entire world handed to him.
I jerked my head in a nod, and Sam stood up, unhooking Tate from the lie detector. Tate remained completely still, his eyes flicking among the three of us.
“So, it happened during Luca’s wedding?” He crossed one leg over the other, grabbing Enzo’s soft cigarette pack from the table and helping himself to one.
“Yeah.” Luca reached to light his cigarette.