Tough Justice Series Box Set: Parts 1-8. Carla Cassidy

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Tough Justice Series Box Set: Parts 1-8 - Carla  Cassidy

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voice like velvet. Lara didn’t respond. With just one word, he’d managed to intimidate her. How could one man be that powerful? His lips were downturned, and his nostrils were flared. He was angry. “I expected you, but a part of me thought you wouldn’t show. Not after what you’ve done.” He slammed his fist down on the tabletop. Despite her resolve to stay firm, she jumped.

      “Hey,” the guard warned. Lara could hear his voice through Moretti’s phone.

      Moretti’s eyes turned to slits. For one long moment he stood still, hunched slightly over, fists balled. His stare was unrelenting. Lara willed her body not to shy away from him, to hold his eyes with her own. The guard didn’t warn him again. Maybe he did know a bit about the man known as Moretti.

      He’s just a man, she told herself again. A man I ruined.

      Moments stretched a bit longer until Moretti took his seat. The corner of his lips turned upwards. His eyes widened to normal. Even his fist unclenched.

      “I have to admit, I’m glad you came,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that pretty face of yours. I was afraid you’d forgotten about me, Eve.” His smirk turned deadly. “Or should I say Lara?”

      A chill ran over every inch of her body. Moretti was rotating through a full range of emotions. It was unsettling and put her on edge. She needed to steer the conversation toward her own goals. Not his.

      “Two murders,” Lara said, finding her voice. “A woman with my first name, and another with my last name. Both with the MM tattoo stamped on their cheeks.” She touched her own to strengthen the image. “Are you, or are you not, ordering these hits as some kind of payback?”

      He didn’t flinch at the accusation. He didn’t even seem interested. Instead Moretti’s smile came back with force.

      “Not the nice greeting I was hoping for,” he said. “A simple ‘How are you’ would have better suited the situation. I mean, really, at least the other agents eased into the conversation.”

      That derailed Lara’s next response. Before she could keep her expression from changing, her eyebrow rose up in question. It made Moretti laugh.

      “Oh, Lara, surely you’ve realized by now I’m an absolute treasure trove of knowledge,” he said, more factual than boastful. “Which means I’m a little bit more valuable than you’re giving me credit for... Others haven’t made that mistake.”

      Lara couldn’t believe it.

      “The FBI is trying to cut you a deal,” she stated, not asked. Moretti’s smile grew into one that he seemed to know would insert itself right beneath her skin. He leaned back slightly in his chair and rubbed his chin, thoughtful.

      “I still haven’t decided what I am and am not comfortable with sharing, but if they give me the right incentive? I just might be able to part with a few names and stories. I mean, what are a few trafficking client names in exchange for getting out of this lovely place a few years earlier?”

      Lara’s face heated. “They’ve offered you sentence leniency?”

      Moretti wagged a finger at her. “Lara, you know I’m not allowed to discuss what goes on in private sessions,” he said, close to tsking her. “I could get in trouble. You could get in trouble. And we certainly don’t want that, do we? That would be an absolute shame.”

      “You’re right,” she said, feeling the burn of his low-lying threat behind seemingly innocent words. She could play that game, too. “I wouldn’t want you to get into any more trouble. You’ve already lost all of your wealth, prestige and freedom. It would be a shame to add dignity to the list. But...” She made a show of looking him up and down. “Let’s be honest, that’s next in line, isn’t it?”

      Like a switch being flipped, Moretti’s body reacted to her even tone. His smile sharpened, his nostrils flared twice like a bull ready to charge, and he fisted his free hand, popping his knuckles slowly. Those dark eyes narrowed in on her.

      But, he didn’t say a word.

      “Again. Two murders,” she continued, circling back to her original point. “Was it or wasn’t it you?” He kept quiet. “Did you have them killed as some kind of demented payback?”

      Moretti threw his head back with a laugh that shook his entire body.

      “Payback? How would that be payback?” he asked when the laughter had subsided. “Payback would be hot sex together and then slowly strangling you.” Lara’s eyes widened. “Hell, the word payback doesn’t even begin to describe what you, Miss Lara Grant, deserve.” His smiled was wiped away in an instant. Lara’s heartbeat quickened. The change in his emotions was giving her whiplash. “Don’t you agree?”

      Lara ignored the question. She’d had enough. She pushed her shoulder farther back.

      “Do you know who the killer is?” Lara asked, voice low. She could feel the edge of her cool cracking. She needed to know if he was pulling the strings. No more verbally dancing with him.

      Moretti took another long moment. Lara readied herself for a more aggressive approach. She needed answers. Hell, she’d even take just one at this point. But, she bet the man across from her knew this. He knew she needed him. She hated him for it.

      “When we met again, I had hoped it would be more fun than this. You’ve disappointed me, again, Agent Grant.” He stood.

      “Moretti,” she warned. “Answer my question! Do you know the identity of the killer or not?”

      “Of course I do.” Moretti smiled. “Guard, we’re done here.”

       CHAPTER SIX

      Lara spent the drive back to the office submerged in a sea of inner turmoil. Instead of the rage she’d felt after leaving Macy’s and the body of Elizabeth Grant, she felt almost exclusively shame. She’d let a man in prison—one she’d had a large hand in bringing down—mentally stun her. He’d intimidated her on the opposite side of freedom without even touching her. All within the span of five minutes.

      Of course I do.

      His admittance had, and simultaneously hadn’t, surprised Lara. He was a proud man. If he had a hand in something, then he would own up to it—without incriminating himself, of course. Or else he wouldn’t have lasted as long as he had running the syndicate. He was also a man who got off on playing with the people around him. His truths and lies were instruments, always working to form a larger picture. One that she hoped she wouldn’t see.

      What part did he have in the murders? In the actions of the so-called Black Stamp Serial Killer? What was his next move?

      Did he know about the family?

      Lara should have found all the answers out during her visit, but all she’d found was regret at not being stronger. How could she keep others from dying because of her if she could barely stand her ground to a man dressed in an orange jumpsuit?

      She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. The action revived her earlier anger. Was Moretti really talking to a different part of the FBI? Would they really give a man like him perks and sentence leniency for

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