Devil’s Thirst: A Mafia Stalker Romance (The Moretti Men Book 1)
Devil’s Thirst: Chapter 43

I’ve never seen anything more courageous in my entire fucking life. Amelie’s grace, determination, strength, and loyalty already keep me in a perpetual state of awe, but what she did tonight—there are no words. She is incredible beyond measure, and she’s mine.

I will strive every damn day of my life to be worthy of her.

My first task in that pursuit is to make sure John Talbot rots in hell.

Oran and I follow Talbot and the guards into the lobby. I have no idea how the asshole ended up front and center in the theater without any of us noticing. We never even detected he had tickets to the show, or I would have ensured that motherfucker didn’t make it in the door.

One of the guards redirects Talbot toward the office area when he tries to go to an exit. The AG spins around to confront him but does a double take instead when he sees me. I can almost hear his thoughts as he places me as the valet from weeks ago. The thing about tattoos like mine is they’re recognizable, which can be a good thing and a bad thing. Today, it’s priceless.

That’s right, asshole. We got you.

He sneers, turning back to the guard. “You can’t keep me here just because some lunatic makes accusations on a stage.”

“We can, and we will. Theater policy is that all incidents are to be reported to the authorities. If the cops get here and say you’re free to leave, then you can go.”

“This is harassment and false imprisonment. Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with here? I’ll have you both fired by morning.”

I inch forward and stare down the attorney general of the state of New York with palpable violence. “You walk out of this building, and I’ll detain you instead. I can promise you now, you won’t enjoy that option.”

Talbot holds his glare, trying to be tough, but after a glance at the mob of people joining us to stretch their legs and get concessions, he folds. “You people are going to wish you never crossed me,” he hisses quietly before storming toward the office.

I’m about to follow them back when an idea hits me. I place a quick call.

“Malone here,” the officer answers. He’d given his number to Amelie, and out of an abundance of caution, I’d saved it in my phone.

“Sir, this is Isaac calling on behalf of Amelie Brooks. It’s been a few weeks, but you came to her apartment after a man broke into her place at night. That ring any bells?”

“I know exactly who you’re talking about. Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, but she decided to confront the man who raped her and has been stalking her. We’re at the Metropolitan Opera House. I don’t have time to explain, but we need you here so this guy doesn’t get away.” I’m not above stroking an ego if it gets me what I want.

“I’m not far from there, but I’m not on duty. I won’t be in uniform.”

“Uniforms have already been called, and theater security is detaining the man, but we need someone here who knows the situation.”

“I’ll be there in ten.” The line clicks dead.

Fuck, yeah, we got him by the balls now.

Talbot is talking to someone on the phone when I join them in the office. I give a subtle nod to Oran, telling him I have shit under control. We wait another five minutes before two uniformed officers arrive. The security detail shakes hands with them, then explains the situation. Talbot launches back into his threats with much more impact on his new audience. The two cops look anxiously at one another.

“Mr. Talbot’s right. If the young lady wants to file a report, she’s welcome to do so, but in the meantime, we have no reason to detain him.”

I take my turn to speak up. “She stood in front of hundreds of people and confided the most painful, horrific thing that ever happened to her, and you two are dismissing it?”

Again, they exchange an uncertain glance.

“It’s her word against his,” one of them says, trying to sound firm. “She can’t go around slinging allegations without some kind of proof.”

If I could strangle the motherfucker, I would.

“Cunts like you are the reason women like her are scared to speak up.” Each word is ground out past gritted teeth.

Oran coughs, warning me to keep my shit together.

“That’s it,” Talbot cuts in. “I’m leaving.” He flings open the door to replace Officer Hotshot on the other side.

“Looks like I’m the last one to the party.” Malone scans the room, taking in the scene.

“Who the fuck are you?” Talbot demands.

Malone takes his time clipping his badge onto his belt. “Officer Dean Malone. I understand tonight’s incident is in relation to an ongoing investigation.”

“The fuck? There is no investigation. This is all a bunch of bullshit.”

Malone moseys forward, forcing Talbot to retreat back into the room.

Time for me to clarify matters.

“Officer Malone, Amelie acknowledged on stage tonight that Mr. Talbot here raped her four years ago and has been threatening her ever since. She suspected he was the man who broke into her apartment but was scared to tell the truth. First thing in the morning, she’ll be changing her statement and adding charges of sexual assault of a minor, among others.”

“I never broke into her apartment,” Talbot balks, not even realizing how incriminating it sounds that the rape wasn’t the first thing he refuted. “You know who I am? I’m John Talbot—you work for me, Officer Malone—and these people are setting me up.”

Malone locks eyes with Talbot, slowly looks him up and down, then turns back to me, completely dismissing the aging pedophile.

“I knew something wasn’t right about that night. I’m glad she’s taking the risk to come forward and tell the truth.”

“What?” Talbot wails. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s it. I’m outta here.” He makes a move to push past Malone, who slaps a cuff around one of his wrists and then the other in two seconds flat.

“I was going to suggest we have a seat, but if you’d rather do it at the station, by all means.” He guides Talbot by the arm. The AG protests, then realizes the lobby is still full of audience members and goes quiet to keep from drawing attention to himself. The two sycophant cops are similarly silent, seemingly hopeful everyone will forget they were ever involved.

I follow Malone out to his car, pulling him aside once Talbot is secured in the back seat.

“Listen, she just finally opened up about this to me last night. She didn’t have plans to make it public, but his attending the show was the last straw. You need to know that he claimed to have filmed the assault—that’s what he’s used as leverage all these years. That and his power. He had these two assholes by the balls before you arrived. I’m telling you now, this is big. The feds will need to be involved.”

Malone slowly nods, taking in what I’ve said. “In other words, don’t fuck it up.”

“Glad to hear we understand one another,” I offer respectfully.

I looked into Malone after he called Amelie to the station that day. I couldn’t replace a single speck of dirt on the guy. No affiliations or rumors. Clean as a fucking whistle. One of the very few who does the job for the right reasons. We may not be on the same team, but I respect that shit.

“So, Isaac with no last name, you going to tell me who the fuck you are?”

Amusement teases my lips into a smile. “Name’s Sante Isaaco Mancini. I’m Renzo Donati’s cousin and a member of the family.” I know he’ll recognize the name and get my drift.

Malone shakes his head. “Fucking Christ, she’s up to her eyeballs in Mafia.”

I sober, my stare locking with his. “Doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt her. That monster needs to be off the streets. She wants to see justice done by the books with him behind bars, which is fine by me. But one way or another, he will pay for his crimes.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” he says sincerely.

I arch a brow at him and extend a handshake. “Don’t make me regret it.” With that, we part ways, though I suspect we’ll be seeing one another again in the future. Good cops like him always pop up like a bad case of herpes.

Back inside, the lights are dim, and orchestral music drifts out from beyond the theater doors. Time to watch my girl shine.