Monday morning came too early for Sean. He had to admit, spending those days with Nina made him indescribably happy. The way she would smile at him sometimes. Damn, it made his heart quicken. Somewhere in his mind he worried if he was falling too hard, that things were going so well and so fast that the other shoe was bound to fall, and hard.
He tried to push those things from his mind as he focused on the Morelli case. Even though Enzio Morelli was in police custody, many of his goons were not.
With their boss behind bars, there would be many capos and made guys vying for the spot of the brand new Don. It was only a matter of time before the Morelli crime syndicate completely imploded.
All the NYPD had to do watch sit back and collect the criminals.
Sean and his team had collected enough evidence through their informant as well as others who had turned state's evidence about Enzio's shady dealings. Sean and Angie had been working on this case for nearly two years.
Whenever they found a witness brave enough to step forward and testify against Morelli for drug smuggling, prostitution, whatever he dealt with, said witness would end up dead. When Sean first saw the crime scene photos, he nearly became sick.
Enzio and his crew wouldn't just shoot someone. No, that was too kind. The bodies looked like they were beaten, and badly. Their throats would be slit, a bullet to the brain, and just for fun, Morelli would have their tongues cut out.
As a little gift for the NYPD, a dead rat was always left somewhere at the crime scene. The message was clear: a dead rat is a quiet rat. Enzio Morelli was merciless. He used a heavy hand with his crew and an ever heavier hand with his enemies.
Now that the bastard was off the streets, a feeling of victory ran through the precinct. There was still plenty of work to do to get the rest of the Morelli scumbag crew off the streets, but with the plethora of evidence from phone records, surveillance tapes, and wired conversations of Morelli giving orders to have witnesses and their families extinguished, they had more than enough to make sure the piece of shit stayed behind bars for the rest of his life.
Sean walked into the precinct with renewed fervor. It was back to work, back to the grind. He was accosted by Lieutenant Adams when he was about to head into his office.
"Reilly," he barked, not even bothering to start with a greeting. "Got someone in interrogation for you."
"Seriously? Who is it Lou?" Sean removed his jacket and straightened his gun holster.
Adams handed Sean a manila folder. "Jake Morelli."
Sean whistled. Jake 'The Kid' Morelli was the younger brother of Enzio. A pretty boy, he fashioned himself a gangster, using his brother's dirty money to get him into the hottest New York nightclubs and a mention somewhere on Page Six.
At 21, the kid was a total wannabe.
Sean guessed he must have watched Goodfellas one too many times.
"What's that schmuck doing here? You think he's connected with the evidence from his brother?"
Adams shook his head. "Nah, not that fuck-up. Police caught him earlier this morning leaving the 40/40 club in a Navigator that was reported stolen earlier last evening."
Sean grinned. Today was shaping up quite nicely. "Alright, so you want me just to go in there and scare him a little?"
Adams grunted, and Sean took that as approval. He took the file from Adams and walked brusquely to the interrogation room.
There was a small spattering of officers around, looking in at the blackout window at the moody young man who was trying to look bored, but there was a small trace of fear in his dark features.
"Hey Reilly," Ken Masters greeted. Sean gave the handsome black officer the thumbs up sign. "Hey yourself Ken." Looking around he pretended to glare at his coworkers. "Don't you assholes have anything better to do?"
"Nope," Ken said, grinning. "We all came to watch the show."
Sean smiled before turning the knob and heading into the small room. The smile was completely gone from his face. Slapping the file folder on the medium-sized metal table, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his navy work shirt, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.
He glared at the young man before him, pulling out all the tricks of the angry cop routine.
Jake Morelli looked up at him. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be?" he asked with a little more courage than he felt.
Sean smiled inwardly. This kid was a punk. "I'm the only thing standing between you walking outta here on your own accord or in handcuffs." He crossed his arms, the thick chords of muscles flexing almost menacingly.
Jake scoffed. "Yeah, whatever yo. I'mma tell you what I told that other pig. I didn't steal shit. I'm fuckin' Jake The Kid, yo. Fuck what ya' heard, I stay gettin' money."
Sean almost laughed in the kid's face. He obviously was pleased with himself.
"Cut the 'dope boy' act, Morelli. It says here on your file that you went to one of the most prestigious prep schools on the Upper East Side and you recently graduated with a Bachelor's from Princeton. Yeah," Sean sneered. "You're definitely keeping it gangsta."
The boy blanched, the color drained from his olive skin. Sean surveyed The Kid. He was dressed in designer jeans, a form fitting black t-shirt. An olive green Ed Hardy zip up hoodie that easily cost about 200 dollars was thrown carelessly on the table.
He had on custom Gucci sneakers and about three grand worth of jewelry. His dark hair was cut in the typical Guido blowout and looked like it could use a break from all the gel and hairspray.
"All right. What do you want me to say? Nah, I didn't steal the Nav. It's one of my boys. I borrowed it and he pretended to call it in as stolen."
Sean stared at him, not sure if he believed him. "Right. So you're saying if we call Mr. Anthony Terry he'll tell us the same story. That you two, for some retarded fucking reason I'm sure, pretended that a car was stolen?"
Jake nodded his head stupidly. "Yeah, man."
"Mr. Morelli are you aware that your older brother is currently sitting in police custody and that you doing something incredibly stupid like this will only garner more attention?"
"Yeah," he said again, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "I gotta keep the newshounds interested in my shit. You wouldn't believe the amount of panties that get tossed my way. Girls be thinkin' I'm straight Scarface and shit."
"Scarface was Cuban and you are clearly dumber than your haircut lets on," Sean scoffed. "Now listen here, you schmuck. I don't want to see you back in my precinct or I swear on the Virgin Mary I will have you booked and in handcuffs before your hair gel is dry. You will go to jail, and you'll be around real guys that keep it gangsta. Only this time, the only thing getting tossed will be your ass from guy to guy. I'm sure they'll love that pretty face."
Sean kept his face serious, and he was sure the guys on the other side of the two-way mirror were chuckling. Jake definitely wasn't. He looked visibly unnerved.
"Yeah, okay." His voice faltered a little bit.
"Good," Sean said. "Now sit here. Another officer will be in shortly to release you."
Sean turned to walk out of the room when he heard the boy speak again.
"You're Sean Reilly, aren't you?"
