Say It Isn't So

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Chapter 37


“Holy shit,” Harry curses, glancing back at the image we had enlarged on the screen. “Yan is picking her up from the fucking hair salon?”

“I told you, he is a piece of shit,” I rage, pacing the small office we are standing in. I see the trainee detective hovering at the door, waving to get my attention excitedly. “One minute.”

I tug the door open, raising my eyebrows at her expectantly. She clutches a pile of paperwork in her hands, but drags her nail down the top page, until she finds a highlighted line.

“The serial numbers you are looking for? They were in the money seized last night from Arge Santo’s place.”

“No fucking way,” I whisper, grabbing her face and kissing her fully on the lips. She looks a little dazed when I release her, relieving her of the pile of papers in her hand. “Thank you, you have no idea how helpful this is.”

I grin, closing the door behind me as I turn to see Harry examining the footage again, his hands on his hips.

“Little bastard,” he seethes, turning to glance at me. “Why are you grinning? What’s that?”

I stride over to him, dropping the paperwork onto the desk in front of him with a thud.

“That, my friend, is the missing money from the satchel. The ransom money,” I say hastily, tapping the page with my forefinger. “Whoever we can trace that back to, is our kidnapper.”

Harry’s mouth opens, his eyes scanning the lines greedily.

“Wait,” he leans forward, his hands flat on the table either side of the paperwork. He drops his head, shaking it silently. “You’re telling me we may have just busted the kidnapper and this Arge guy? In one hit?”

Our eyes meet then, and I cross my arms over my chest, pride bursting through my body as I nod.

“Looks that way.”

“Let’s have a chat with Arge,” Harry states, lifting his jacket from the chair beside him. I gather up the paperwork before following him eagerly.

Arge Santo was Rolex Dude, it turned out- the same guy who I had saved the punter from outside the club.

“It’s a small word,” I drawl, dropping the stack of papers onto the desk between us and Santo. He lifts his eyes to glance at the sheet, shrugging his shoulders with indifference.

“You, I should have known you were a cop. Meddling in business that ain’t yours,” he spits on the floor beside him, and I make a face.

“Didn’t your mama teach you any manners?” I arch a brow at the pile of saliva on the floor.

“Fuck you.”

“It seems that fucking is your bread and butter, no?” Harry muses, taking a seat across from Santo. “Defenseless teenagers, I think.”

“You can’t pin that shit on me, and you know it,” Santo crossed his arms, his heavily tattooed arms bulging beneath his shirt. “You’ve got nothin’.”

“Actually, we do.”

Harry grins, dropping photos of the underground cells we had found a few weeks back. Santo is expressionless, his gaze unreadable.

“We have two witnesses in protection, who will testify against you through a translator. We have evidence, Santo, and I can get more. The bust last night will put you away for at least twenty years, if not more.”

“Dealing heroin to addicts,” I tut, shaking my head. “What a way to put food on the table.”

Santo ignores me, staring down at the photos with a hard glint in his eyes.

“What do you want?” He mutters finally, his dark eyes swirling with malice as he lifts them to mine.

“We need to know who the money was from, Santo.”

Santo throws his head back, his lips revealing his yellowed teeth.

“I’d be as good as dead, so throw me away.”

“We don’t expect all the names, princess,” I growl, resting my fists on the table, my knuckles cracking as I do. “Just one in particular.”

“We’ll show you some images, and you say yes or no. Sound fair?” Harry suggests, holding up a manila folder. Santo stares at us wordlessly for a moment, before shrugging.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Cooperation will halve your sentence,” I inform him, nodding at the manila folder. “But you need to decide within the next five seconds, because scum like you really tick me off.”

Santo studies me, before glancing back at the file. He lifts his fingers in a beckoning motion, nodding at the file with a curt nod.

Harry pushes the file towards him, and Santo sniffs, clearing his throat as he sifts through the images. My heart drops when he passes the image of Yan, and Harry refuses to meet my gaze. After what feels like an age, Santo lifts an image from the pile, turning it around so we could see.


Hayley Dupont.

“She dropped some cash off a few days ago,” Santo mutters, cutting his eyes at me.

“How much?” Harry barks, leaning forward, his eyes burning into Santo’s. He glances down at a clipboard in his hand, the pen scribbling away as he does.

“About ten grand,” Santo snaps, pushing the file back towards us.

“What for? Girls? Drugs?” I demand, wiping the table clear of the paperwork and the images. Santo doesn’t even flinch when I loom over him, my mouth close to his ear. “Tell me, shithead. Or I’m going to make sure you fucking rot in that cell.”

I’m so close to him now the stench of pussy and weed fill my nostrils, and I try not to gag. Didn’t this dude ever shower?

“Her man wants a part in the business. A piece of the pie, or ass,” Santo chuckles, turning to meet my eyes. “But I don’t know who he is. Just that she represents him.”

“I want a signed statement, now. Then you have a deal,” Harry declares, looking up from the clipboard he has been scribbling on. Santo doesn’t respond, but he turns towards me with a bitter smile.

“How’s your bitch?”

Harry reaches out to restrain me, his pen clattering to the floor as he marches me towards the door.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” I hiss over Harry’s shoulder, as Santo pretends to look scared.

“Hey, I heard it on the grapevine,” Santo crows, lacing his fingers behind his head with amusement. “Don’t be so sensitive, you pussy.”

“I’ll deal with this, go and fucking cool down,” Harry orders, his hand on my chest, pushing me out of the door. He nods at an officer standing outside of the door, beckoning him in. “I need you to witness this statement.”

I shake myself free of Harry, who is watching me with a grim expression on his face.

“Almost got him, Cain,” he calls after me, and I raise my hands above my head, clapping them together in slow motion.


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