Mitch pulled his phone from his pocket, framed Schaeffer in all his irate, indignant glory in the viewfinder, and clicked the image. He slid the phone back into his pocket and said, “That would be difficult to do.” Mitch remained relaxed and maddeningly calm, knowing it would only infuriate Schaeffer further. “The bar doesn’t respond to criminals, Gil.”
Schaeffer sputtered, spit spraying in an arc. Agent Seville took a step back with a disgusted frown.
“You don’t know anything—” Gil started.
“Yes,” the cop said. “He does. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law—”
“I demand an explanation, right now!” Schaeffer yelled.
“You’re being arrested, Gil,” Mitch said with excess patience as if explaining to a three-year-old.
“You have the right to consult an attorney,” the cop continued over him, louder, “and to have an attorney present during questioning.”
“I’m available,” Mitch said. “If you ask real nice, I could probably get the jury to consider one death sentence instead of three. I’m good like that.”
“If you cannot afford an attorney—”
“You can’t, by the way,” Mitch interrupted. “All your assets and bank accounts have been frozen.”
“—one will be appointed for you,” the cop continued. “If you decide to answer any questions now—”
“Beware . . .” Mitch let the wickedness beneath his grin show. “Because I’ll twist everything that comes out of your mouth.”
“—you can stop answering at any time.”
“You also have the right,” Mitch added, “to get strip-searched by District of Columbia’s finest. You have the right to become Big Bubba’s latest bitch. You have the right—”
“Do you understand your rights?” the cop asked Schaeffer, shooting a glare at Mitch.
“Dead, Foster,” Schaeffer growled. “You’re dead.”
Mitch chuckled darkly. “With your track record and all these witnesses, you’d better hope I don’t turn up dead anytime soon.”
“Do you understand your rights, Senator?” the cop asked.
“Of course I do, you ridiculous civil servant, I’m a United States Senator, for God’s sake. Now tell me what I’m charged with or get these cuffs off me.”
“I’ll start, Senator,” Agent Seville said. “You are under arrest for the murder of Army Major Bruce Abernathy—”
“That’s ludicrous,” he yelled. “I’ve been under twenty-four-hour care here for weeks.”
“But when conspiring to commit a crime, Senator,” Seville said sweetly, following Mitch’s lead in tone, “the conspirator is as guilty of the crime as the perpetrator. Which leads me to the charges of conspiracy to commit said murder and murder for hire.”
“Insanity,” Schaeffer said. “Absolute insanity.”
“You ain’t heard nothing yet, Gil.” Mitch slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks, rolled back on his heels, and grinned. The thick, sweet, decadent slide of vindication and vengeance coated his insides. Vindication for the team. Vengeance for Halina, and yes, for himself.
“Pull up your big-boy pants, Gil, you’re gonna need them. I’ll try to keep it simple for that teeny-tiny brain of yours.”
He paused to savor the sheer joy of witnessing justice in action. Then he let loose on the charges the Attorney General had given him permission to disclose.
“You are charged with multiple counts of campaign fraud, multiple counts of misuse of public funds, and multiple counts of bribery.” Mitch grinned. “Can’t wait to see those photos of you at the Alibi Club splashed on World News Tonight.”
“You set me up,” he wheezed. “This is a conspiracy.”
Mitch waved him off. “Hold on, that’s coming. Let’s get a few others out of the way first. So impatient.” He glanced at the ceiling as if he needed to think to remember the charges. “Where was I? Oh, right.” Staring Gil directly in those muddy eyes, he said, “You are charged with two counts of false imprisonment for the illegal—not to mention despicable, animalistic, unethical—incarceration of Teague Creek and Cash O’Shay. There will be many more charges coming related to the two men, but I don’t want to confuse you. You’re already starting to pale, Gil.”
“He’s fine,” Peggy said from behind the senator, where she monitored his pulse ox, a disgusted look on her face. “Finish up. I want to get him out of here.”
“You are charged with multiple counts of mail and wire fraud,” Mitch continued. “You are charged with multiple counts of extortion. You are charged with multiple counts of fraud and conspiracy to commit fraud. You are charged with multiple counts of biological and chemical weapons trafficking.
“If it were up to me, I’d have a slew of other charges, but the attorney general is a little more conservative. Don’t worry, as more evidence surfaces, there will be plenty more to tack on. We’re doing our damnedest to round all this into a package worthy of your . . . stature.”
When Gil only stared at the floor, his face as white as the plaster wall, mouth hanging open, bent at the waist, Mitch crouched, tilted his head, and said, “Do you understand the charges as I’ve outlined them, Gil? Your court-appointed attorney will get everything in writing. Shit, dude, I hope you didn’t screw him too at some point over your last twenty years in office. That would suck.”
Mitch straightened. “Hey, Gil, would love to stay, watch you rant and writhe, but I’ve got to run. Halina and I—you remember Halina, right?—yeah, we’re getting married today. Crazy, right? Who’d have believed? I’m living the dream, man.” He reached out and slapped Gil’s arm—hard. Gil pitched forward. The cop kept him standing with a hand against his chest. “Living. The. Fucking. Dream.”
Mitch pressed his hands to his thighs and stood. Turning to Owen, he dusted his hands and said, “My work here is done. See you at the courthouse, right?”
Owen offered his hand and Mitch took it with a familiar sense of accomplishment and goodwill flowing through every inch of his body. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Mitch started toward the elevator, then turned back with a thought, still moving backward as he spoke, pointing between Owen and Agent Seville. “Feel free to bring a date.”
Halina paced the library’s anteroom. She rubbed her damp hands together. Took a deep breath to try and slow her heart. She glanced at the clock over the door again.
“Is that clock right?” she asked, more to herself than the others milling in the room. “Did the second hand stop?”
“Sweetheart,” Alyssa said. “Relax. He wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
Halina turned. Searched the gazes of the men in the room, each dressed in a fresh dark suit Mitch had purchased for them that morning. The same way he’d sent Alyssa, Jessica, Keira, and Kat out to buy the women crimson gowns and instructions for Alyssa to help Halina choose the wedding dress of her dreams.
This was one attractive group—the men oozing charm and testosterone, the women simply breathtaking. A photographer crouched unobtrusively in the corner, shooting pictures of Kat trying to teach Mateo how to dance, each dressed in miniature versions of the adults’ clothes. Dex sat watching the kids, wearing a ridiculous-looking bow tie. Halina still didn’t know whose idea that was, but if she had to guess, Kai would be the main suspect.
Mitch had thought of flowers, candles, even a cake and champagne. The only thing Halina had to consider was a ring for him. She’d picked up a thick, solid platinum band when she’d chosen her dress and now spun it around her middle finger, where it was still too big.