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“Then why do I get the distinct impression you won’t be satisfied until you see me behind bars?”
“Maybe that’s what you deserve.”
He cocks his head. “Because you think I’m guilty of the same atrocities as my father.”
I sigh. “I think we’re getting sidetracked here. My opinion doesn’t count. The evidence is all that matters.”
“And there is no evidence. You’ll never tie me to my father’s crimes.”
“Is that because you’re smarter at covering your tracks?”
His eyes narrow. His irritation quick to ignite. “No, it’s because I was never involved.” His tone is vehement, the words dripping with conviction.
I could almost believe him. Almost. If I were high and insanely stupid.
Unfortunately for him, I’m neither.
“Even if you didn’t participate, there’s no way you wouldn’t have been aware of what Richard and Luther were doing. And the fact you stood by while women were manipulated, escorted from the country, then sold as sex slaves, makes you an accomplice.”
“There.” He points a finger at the table. “That right there is an unfounded misconception.”
“For now,” I drawl. “It’s only a matter of time before misconceptions become facts.”
His jaw tics, his building anger entirely delicious. “I’m a businessman, Niss. A successful entrepreneur. I don’t have the time or inclination to keep up-to-date with my father’s activities.”
“I don’t think entrepreneurship extends to the drug trade. Do you?”
His nostrils flare. “That’s yet another unfounded accusation.”
“That part of your reputation is far from unfounded.” I take a sip of coffee, trying to disguise my a
Cole sighs, and reaches out his arm, taking another look at his watch.
I should be doing the same. The court case will start in roughly ninety minutes. Just enough time for me to shower, dress, and get my ass across town.
“Regretting your decision already?” I muse. “Did my insight hit a little too close to the mark? Or have you had enough of this delightful conversation already?”
“I see this as less of a conversation and more of a trial.” He crosses his arms, making the collared shirt beneath his jacket cling tight to his chest. “When you’re ready to stop the accusations and have a civilized discussion, please let me know.”
“Don’t reach for the sympathy card, Cole. Not with all the horrors your family have inflicted.”
I take a gulp of java, throwing it back like a shot.
Fuck him.
Seriously, fuck this manipulative prick for thinking he can gain any understanding from me.
He won’t change my opinion. I’ll never see him as anything other than a waste of possibilities.
It’s obvious he’s attractive. His intelligence isn’t in question either. A stupid man could never have risen in power, expanding his family’s grasp further and tighter, without a glimpse of brilliance.
But he could’ve been so much more. An academic. A doctor. A politician. Even an entrepreneur who made millions from something legitimate instead of criminal.
“I’m not after sympathy, Nissa.”
That’s another thing I despise. The deliberately taunting way he takes liberties with my name. Nobody calls me Niss. Or Nissa. I’ve only ever been Anissa. Or Fox.
“Good.” I hold his gaze and smile. “Because you’ll never get it.”
My cell vibrates on the table, the incoming call from my supervisor. “I need to take this.”
Cole sits forward. “By all means, answer the call, but I’m not going to wait around.” He pushes his chair back, poised to stand. “Either you talk to me, or him.”
Him. Taggert.
I’m not surprised he recognized the name on my screen.
“You’re not making it a hard decision when you haven’t told me anything of value.” I raise a brow, waiting as my cell continues to trill. “I’m still not sure why you’re wasting my time.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste, Nissie, if you asked questions instead of ru
Nissie.
Fucking. Nissie.
This asshole has crawled under my skin like a plague of parasites. Problem is, I’ve already succumbed. I’m here, ready and waiting. And if I leave without a thread of valuable insight, I’ll look an even bigger fool.
“Fine.” I reject the call. “You claim you didn’t know what your father was doing. How is that possible?”
He stills, not only in his movements, but in his expression.
He’s considering lying to me.
Not a smart move when my patience is threadbare.
“I confess.” He raises his hands in surrender. “I was aware.”
My heart stills in shock and I glance down at my cell. Fuck. The recording stopped when the call came through.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“You didn’t get that on the record?” he taunts. “What a shame.”
I breathe through the anger, not letting him get to me. “How long before?”
“Since Richard went to hospital.” He glances at his watch again, seeming bored with the topic. “My father offered me the lucrative position my uncle held within their organization. Apparently, there’s a lot of money in sex trafficking.”
I don’t appreciate the candor. The complete and utter lack of empathy.
“Have some respect,” I seethe. “A lot of those women were raped and murdered for sport. I don’t know how you can look yourself in the mirror with their torture on your conscience.”
“I knew about it, but I wasn’t involved. Never have been and never will be.”
“How noble of you.” My sarcasm is profound. I could win an Academy Award for the performance. I could also have a stroke from the potency of my rage. “Do you really expect praise just because you didn’t take a golden handshake from the scum of the earth? Those women continued to suffer until me and my colleagues could pull together enough evidence to arrest your father.”
His eyes narrow, the intense depths turning spiteful. “Are you that naive to think his arrest helped their situation?” He scoffs. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve done by putting him behind bars.”
“Then tell me.”
There are still a million leads to follow in Luther’s case. A myriad of tangled threads to unravel before we determine how many women he abducted. And we’re not getting anywhere with his father’s refusal to answer questions.
“Tell me what we’ve done,” I repeat.
The trill of my cell breaks the moment, stealing away the glimmer of insight I’m dying to hear. I lower my gaze to read Taggert across the screen again. Shit. He’s going to be pissed I’ve ignored him, but I’m finally getting somewhere. The smoke and mirrors are subsiding to reveal the truth I need.
“Please continue.” I reject the call and return my gaze to Cole’s. “What’s changed now that Luther is behind bars?”
Yet again he’s looking at his watch, his patience seeming to grow thin. “Forget it. You’re needed elsewhere and I’ve got places to be.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll return the call once we’re finished.”
Another cell tone interrupts us, but this time it isn’t mine.
“Excuse me.” Cole reaches into his jacket and pulls out his phone. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to take this.”