Tinsel In A Tangle

Gino’s brows lifted. “Cleve, as your lawyer—”

“You’ll see that my estate is wound up, my employees paid what’s owed and settled safely, and turn over whatever the law doesn’t take back to my beneficiary.”

Gino growled with annoyance. “Aria.”

She’d be an incredibly wealthy woman. She could make a new life for herself beyond false identities and petty graft, beyond the risk of going major league.

“That’s insanity, Cleve.”

Gino was an exceptionally crafty lawyer, so maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. “We might still—”

“We won’t.” Gino used his “can make a mob boss cry” voice. “If they get anything related to the Shadow to stick to you, it’s over. You’ll be a toothless old man before you see regular sunlight again.”

He shrugged. Sunlight; it was overrated, especially if being deprived of it would mean Aria was free.

He’d run out of patience for Gino ranting at him, so it was almost a relief when the lead investigators arrived. He stood, though Gino stayed seated. “How can I help you this fine afternoon?”

“By losing your shit, Jones,” said Rickard.

He looked at Choi. Neither agent gave anything away. He had no clue how damning Aria had been, but it was safe to assume she told them everything about the Celestia heist, everything except her part in it. “There is simply no need for that unpleasantness. I’ve cooperated fully.” If you didn’t count the fact he’d lawyered up with a bull shark in a three-piece.

“Take a seat, Jones,” said Choi with an eat-shit-and-die smile. “You’ll need it.”

The casual ability to move like a proper human instead of a headless chicken that he’d summoned since seeing Aria with Rickard and Choi, deserted him. His ass hit the seat with a thud. This he’d not planned for.

“Tell us about Aria Harp,” said Rickard.

“We’re not here for your fishing expedition,” said Gino, and Cleve nearly laughed—the shark metaphor was apt.

“Answer the question,” said Rickard.

He’d lie to save her; he’d have to guess what she needed saving from. “She’s the daughter of Professor Donald Harp, who took me in when I was eighteen.”

“Go on,” said Choi.

“I fail to see how this has any bearing on why we’re here,” said Gino.

“I was in love with her. I’m still in love with her,” he volunteered.

Gino grunted and shot Cleve a withering look, but he had nothing to feel ashamed for in loving Aria. It was the most right thing he’d ever done.

“Aw,” said Rickard with a sneer. “She didn’t mention loving you.”

Cleve broke eye contact. “I’m sure she didn’t.”

“This is all public record,” said Gino. “Cleve was a ward of Professor Harp. Attended classes at Harvard and had a room in his Irving Street house. Harp died by misadventure and made Cleve his beneficiary, disinheriting his daughter, but Cleve turned everything over to her. She’s been in the wind until now.”

If it was possible for a man to sound more bored and pissed off simultaneously Cleve had never heard it.

“Which doesn’t explain your own extreme wealth,” said Choi.

“My grandma played poker,” said Cleve.

“You know that we have Aria Harp next door,” said Rickard. “She dished up all the dirt. We know what you’ve done.”

Oh Aria. Better that they’d never met. He’d done such damage to her. “Granny taught me everything I know.”

“Are you saying your cash in accounts, your property portfolio, the cars, the artwork, are the proceeds of playing poker?”