Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Are you shitting me? Stavros has ties to the Greek mob?”
“No lie. And what’s better?” He slapped another image on the desk in front of Connelly. A glossy printout of Castor Stavros standing outside The Vibe. In an enlarged section the man’s hairy forearm was blown up three sizes so the skull tattoo was crystal clear.
Connelly’s mouth dropped open. “Holy fucking shit.”
“Right?”
“Stavros kidnapped and murdered that boy from Philly.”
“Looks like it.”
“And that motherfucker has been hiding out in New York this whole time. I cannot wait to put him in prison. Tell me we’ve got enough.”
“Hell yes, with his list of priors it’s a slam dunk. I’ve already sent this to Judge Hackman for a warrant.”
“You just solved a cold case, partner.” Connelly breathed a sigh of relief. He’d need to apologize to Raoul soon and it would certainly involve a case of beer, a few good cigars and a lot of groveling. They hadn’t connected Stavros to the drug case, but murder trumped drugs anyway.
Not every partner would have backed him up on this after finding out that he was screwing his informant. Or knowing that said informant didn’t even realize he was one. Connelly inwardly cringed. He really should have come clean that morning at breakfast, but it had been so nice just enjoying a simple meal together he hadn’t wanted to ruin it.
That was a mistake. He realized too late and now there was nothing he could do about it. This wasn’t something that could be explained over the phone. For now, he had to focus on the case. Tonight, he’d lay it all out for Azariah in a way that made it clear everything he’d done had been to protect him.
* * *
The first thing Z did when he got home was clean. He’d been living like an animal ever since he’d hurt his ankle. Yes, it had been difficult to do much of anything with his injury, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed a fresh start.
He opened all the windows that weren’t painted shut and started to clear the trash from his life. He began in the bathroom because the evidence of his emotional breakdown was still there even though Connelly had swept the glass into the corner. With the fresh breeze wafting through the apartment and the sunlight shining, it wasn’t so bad kneeling on the floor and carefully discarding the largest pieces of broken mirror by hand. When he was done he used the mini dustpan and brush set that Landon had bought back when they’d first moved in. Finally, he vacuumed the entire space, even the corners, just to make sure there were no stray shards hidden anywhere.
Next, he moved to the kitchen, the worst of the mess. He hadn’t washed a single dish since his accident. Not that he’d cooked. He’d survived mostly on cold Pop-Tarts and cereal for the past few weeks, but his sink was still full of dirty dishes and the trash definitely should have been taken out days ago.
By the middle of the afternoon, his apartment was looking nearly as clean as when he’d first moved in. The air was fresh and his skin was flush and warm with accomplishment.
Of course, his ankle was giving him trouble, but as he finally collapsed on the sofa he didn’t care. He could stand on it now. He only needed the crutches when he was on his feet for a long time. Next week, he’d ask Sal to let him work again and slowly he’d start to reclaim his life.
Before he knew it, he’d be back in heels and onstage with the Boyz.
His heart came alive at the thought. God, he missed those fuckers so much it was like he’d lost a limb. No, not lost, cut it off because isn’t that what he’d done?
Z closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. Why was he such an asshole? Just because he was hurt, he acted like a wounded fucking animal and snapped at everyone who’d tried to come close.
He should call them. He needed to give Lirim his portion of the cash. And, strangely enough, he wanted to tell them about Connelly.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“But you’re already paid up.” Through the small crack the security chain allowed, Mrs. Duncan tilted her head, her eyes flicking from the cash in Z’s hand to his eyes and back like she didn’t quite understand what was happening.
“I think you’re confused. I’m behind by a month, remember? Azariah Hayes in apartment 3C.”
“I know who you are. You’re the one who hurt my poor Carl.”
“So you know I haven’t had the money to pay you until now.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m a numbskull. I may be old, but I’m not demented.”
“Of course not.” He tried to keep hold of his patience. He’d paid the electricity and bought enough groceries for the week, keeping back enough for rent and what he needed to give Lirim. He just wanted to get this over with so he could go to the club and reunite with the boys. “So, here’s the payment in full for last month and half of this month’s rent in advance.”