Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Of course, the end of this also meant the beginning of my new life. Which included leaving Brooklyn, my apartment, and, well, Elian. Who was probably the first real connection I’d made since my grandfather passed.
True, he said I could stay there as long as I needed to figure out my next steps. But I was pretty sure he didn’t mean indefinitely. No matter how much I wanted that.
“He just pulled up,” one of the staffers said, coming in with another desperately needed coffee for me.
“You’re a god amongst men,” I told him, taking a moment to enjoy my first sip before the senator made it up here. “When he comes in, let everyone know I want a couple of minutes alone with him before we all gather,” I told him, getting a nod.
“Beth,” the senator said, coming into my office looking a little bleary-eyed.
“Senator,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Did you stop somewhere on your way back from the last interview?” I asked.
“Stopped to have a drink,” he said, shrugging.
From the looks of his eyes, it wasn’t one drink. Three at least. And liquor worked one of two ways on him. One, it made him horny and handsy. Or two, it made him short-tempered.
I was silently praying for horny and handsy. The late-night host was male. So that wasn’t likely to be as big of a problem.
We had about two hours until the show. Hopefully that was enough time to sober him up.
Until then, maybe it was time to try to take advantage of his lowered inhibitions.
I clicked on my recording app, then moved over toward where he was sitting on the couch, yanking at his tie.
“You did great today,” I told him. “I think polls are going to show things turning back in our favor. But I think we need to revisit that conversation we were having a few days ago,” I said, heart starting to hammer, some part of me knowing that this was it, that I was finally going to get what I needed to prove his connection to organized crime.
“Refresh my memory,” he said, lounging back, looking like he was ten minutes away from a nap. And that might be the best thing for him.
But first…
“About possible skeletons in your closet,” I reminded him. “Anything at all that, if it got out, might lead to bad press,” I told him. “Any other affairs…”
“Just the one,” he said.
“Or unsavory connections…”
To that, he sucked in a deep breath, seeming lost in thought. Like the Russians weren’t even at the forefront of his mind.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I said, pretending like this wasn’t even related. “We got a call today from a man who wanted to speak to you. He had a really thick accent. Maybe Ukrainian… or Russian,” I said, throwing a hand up at my pretend eureka moment.
“Russian?” Michael asked, sitting up, posture going stiff.
“Is that someone important?” I asked, tone pure innocence.
“Fuck,” he said, leaning his elbows on his knees and cradling his head in his hands.
“Senator, what is it?” I asked. Then, at his silence, “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”
There was another, shorter pause. And then, finally, he started to speak. “I think I got myself in over my head,” he said, shaking his head.
“With whom? The man who called?”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“He’s… the head of the Russian mob.”
This was it! Finally. I just needed him to admit the bribe to do their bidding and it was all in the bag.
“Okay,” I said, tone suggesting this was no big deal, that I dealt with this sort of thing all of the time. “Why is he trying to contact you?”
“Because I haven’t done what he needs me to do.”
“What could he need you to do?”
“It involves someone in his organization that is going to trial.”
“I see. Why would that have anything to do with you?”
“Because I might have… accepted a campaign contribution from them.”
“From the Russian mob,” I clarified.
“Yes,” he said, voice a harsh whisper.
“I know sometimes contributions mean favors. Did you know when you accepted the money that they wanted you to help with this trial?”
“Not this in particular, no.”
“What then?” I asked.
“Just a general understanding that they might need something from me some day.”
“But you knew at the time that they were the Russian mob?”
“Yes.”
“Have you pulled strings for them?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
“A few.”
“On this case?” I asked, discreetly sliding my phone a little closer, so it didn’t miss anything.
“No. Well, yes.”
“What is the case?”
“A human trafficking case. I’m trying. It’s not as easy as they would think.”
“I see.”
“But I’ve done other things, smaller things,” he said, clearly on a roll now that I got him talking.
“Illegal things?”
“Yes. Fuck, my head,” he said, rubbing his temples.
I turned off the recording app, making sure it saved the file, then slipping my phone into my pocket as I stood.