Twisted Fate (Dark Heart 2)

We both laugh at that until we’re howling. When we catch our breath, Dani wipes the laugh tears from her eyes and gives me a more sober look. “So you’re fucked. And not the sexy kind. Is that what I’m hearing?”

I nod. “Yeah, I guess. It all blindsided me. Both the thing with him on New Year’s Day, and then the other stuff after I took office. To think these precincts had been hoarding all this evidence for almost two years, waiting for the next D.A.—”

“And that D.A. is you.” Dani polishes off her glass. “I know, girl. It’s fucked. So what are you going to do?”

“Well, like I said, I had to form a task force. You can’t ignore something like this. Nor would I want to,” I add quickly. “You just heard my little fun-time summary of stuff from this folder, but some of the files we got from the precincts are pretty damning. Lots of drug stuff. And see, what I think is going on is that the head of the Armenian mob, this guy named Aren—”

“Armenians like the ones you had to get protected from?”

“Yep. Anyway, their fearless leader—” I roll my eyes “—is this guy named Aren. Apparently he has a relationship with an analyst at the FBI, and he’s told her he’s getting out of human trafficking because the Italians are taking that over. The details are sketchy.”

“And like whoaaa disturbing!” Dani seems drunk off her ass and looks just like she did in high school right now. “Human trafficking. That’s some fucked-up shiz.”

“Well, the three people in our office who know the most about the Arnoldi family don’t think it’s true. Apparently Luca is a member of some low-profile council through some equally esoteric charity whose mission is working against human trafficking. Ergo, he’s expressed distaste for it.”

Dani just blinks a few times, bug-eyed, like she can’t even.

“Those things are going to fall off,” I tell her.

“They are not going to fall off! These are my Ardells, but I’ve got the really good eyelash glue.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

She dabs at her eyes and sniffs. “Keep talking, fishy. Spill the rest of the tea. I’m in suspense waiting for you to make me understand. Can you just bottom-line it for me? What’s the worst thing that could happen in this?”

I swallow more of my wine. “Basically—the task force is up and running. It’s a joint task force, looking at the Arnoldi family and the Armenians and how they interconnect. I put my best deputy on it. He’ll report back in a few weeks, but if he finds out something really damning, then they’ll start to build a case. Investigating more, widening the net, offering deals to cooperators.”

“And eventually…” She waves her hand, and I roll my eyes.

“Geez, Dani. Eventually, we’ll have to make a case against him. Someone will. I mean, it won’t be me personally. And it may not be against him personally, either.”

“But would you argue it? Wouldn’t it be you in charge of all of it?”

“Yes. It would be me. My office. Sort of.”

She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. “This is a tragedy, Elise.” She looks forlornly at me. “A real-life one.”

“His life is a tragedy, maybe. But my life is a triumph. The really unfortunate thing is that they have to intersect like this.”

“I stand by what I said. I think he came to you that day in Central Park to talk about this stuff—like maybe even to try to twist your arm—but he got near you and he lost his nerve. That boy was crazy about you.”

“Yes, so crazy. When I’m crazy about someone, I always dump them on a random sidewalk and disappear without a trace. And after I see them later and they practically accost me in an elevator, that makes me even more crazy about them.”

“I’m sorry.” She sprawls back against the couch’s cushy arm. “This is a no-go topic. Which I know. Wow, that rhymes. Anyway, I shouldn’t talk about it because I’m drinking.”

“What are you talking about right now?”

Dani’s eyes close. “Shut up. And tell me what Holly says.”

“I’m not seeing Holly anymore right now. I took a leave of absence.”

“From your therapist?”

“I do that sometimes.” I swallow so my voice feels less defensive. “When I feel good.”

She sits up. “You feel good?”

“Yes, Dani. I feel great.” I stand up. “I’ve got my dream job, my dream friend circle. Only one of them is currently drunk off her ass on a weeknight.”

“Two,” she says with her eyes narrowed.

“Who’s the second?”

“You.”

“I’m not my own friend.”

“Everyone should be their own friend.” She laughs drunkenly.

I take Dani to her bedroom, pour a bunch of water down her perfumed throat, and leave her with her cell phone on the charger and a nice, tall bottle of electrolyte water on the bedside table.