A Single Touch (Irresistible Attraction 3)

“I was wondering when you were going to get here so I could kill him,” Walsh admits, his eyes watching the bright red blood pool around the nameless man’s face.

Our pistols are still on him and he only seems to notice now.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. If I don’t make it back to the office and pull the tapes out of the mail room, all the evidence will be dispersed.”

Seth’s gaze sears into me. I can hear the soles of his shoes scrape against the ground as he shuffles his feet although his gun is still up.

Keeping myself calm, I lower the gun and shrug as if I’m unaffected. “I didn’t take you for a man who liked the dramatic.”

Officer Walsh is a man who’s strictly by the book. That’s everything we found on him. Clean record and a man who believes in black and white with no grays in between. This… this is to throw us off. It can’t be his normal.

“I didn’t take you for a man who liked being late.”

“You killed him because we were late?” Seth questions. He lets a hint of humor ease into his tone, but his gun still sits at his side.

It’s only then that Officer Walsh takes his gaze from me and focuses on Seth.

“No. I shot him because I don’t need him and he knows too much.”

“Good to know that’s how you do business.” Seth’s criticism is rewarded with a tilt of Walsh’s head.

“What’s his name?” I question.

“It doesn’t matter.” Walsh looks between the two of us, making me second-guess his plan of action.

“It does to us,” Seth speaks for me, and I don’t mind in the least, since the same words were going to come out of my mouth. I want to know everything about the dead man lying on the floor. What he did, who he worked for, and most importantly: why he was standing beside Walsh in the first place?

“Joey Esposito.”

“Anything else we should know about him?” Seth asks and Walsh simply stares at him. I didn’t come here for a pissing contest.

“What do you want?” I speak loud and clearly, breaking up whatever’s starting between the two of them.

“To share two things with you. Both of them are pieces of information I think you’ll find valuable,” he says and then nudges the leg of the dead man on the floor. It’s a dull prod with no emotion behind it, just enough to be noticed. “He worked for Romano.”

Just hearing the name Romano raises the small hairs on the back of my neck. I feel my eyes narrow but other than that, I keep my composure. Seth does the same. Remaining still, unmoving. Unbothered.

That’s more like him.

“I’ll hand over the whereabouts of Romano freely. I’d prefer for you…” he pauses to glance at Seth before adding, “the two of you, to know that I’m willing to negotiate.”

“Handing something over for free isn’t a part of negotiations. Negotiations require something in return.” Seth corrects him and I have to fight the grin that plays at my lips.

The irritation in Walsh’s demeanor is something I didn’t know I’d enjoy so much. Maybe because it’s obvious he wanted the upper hand by killing this poor fuck the second we got here. Maybe it’s because Seth isn’t making it easy for Walsh. Either way, I make a mental note to tell him I like his style when he’s not following.

Before Walsh can respond, I comment, “How’d you get the information regarding Romano’s whereabouts? Esposito just gave it to you? Or did he think you had a deal?” I let the implication hang in the air, that his deals aren’t to be trusted as I take a step forward.

“He came to me, wanting something I couldn’t offer. He decided to rat, I decided to skip the judicial system and deliver his sentence to save some financial burdens. How’s that sound? Reasonable, Mr. Cross? Besides, I already knew where Romano was. That’s not the information Joey was giving me. Romano’s in protective custody.”

The way he says my name makes my skin crawl. He ignores the silent snarl and continues talking, grabbing the back of a simple metal chair, letting it drag across the floor with a shrill sound.

“What’s more important is that the indictment was dropped.” He leaves the chair in front of Seth, then grabs another. There’s a stack of them, and he delivers one to each of us before taking a seat himself.

Seth hesitates, so I sit down first. Both of us, across from Walsh. All of us holding our guns, but settled in our laps.

“Dropped?” I question, feeling my curiosity, my disbelief even, show on my face.

“It’s confidential.”

“So he gave something up?” Seth surmises and Walsh shrugs but wears a slight grin. “Fucking rat.”

“Jail or death. He didn’t have many options, did he?” Walsh comments.