Page 3 of Sins of Innocence

"He left a lot of debt," I admit. Not that I think this is going to come as any kind of news to Kenneth.

Kenneth nods, his expression almost pitying. "He did more than run up debts, Áine. He sold information. About my family."

I take a hasty gulp of tea, trying to keep myself from throwing up. It's been months since I was affected by pregnancy nausea. This is 100% stress.

I shake my head, desperately wanting that to be a lie. "No."

"Betrayal comes with a death sentence in our business," Kenneth says quietly.

No one but I am close enough to hear him the low hum of conversation, the barista taking orders, the hiss of the milk frother and beans rattling into the grinder.

But his words are so loud in my head, he might as well have shouted them. "Betrayal?" I ask shakily.

"He spied on us for payment. We call someone who does that a rat."

"A rat?" My voice sounds hollow to my own ears.

I'm not even sure why I asked that. I know what a rat is. In the mob.

My husband was in the mob.

And so is this man sitting across from me. "How…" I clear my throat and lick my lips. "How did Troy die?"

The police officer who came to my door said it was a car accident. That the body had been too mutilated for identification with anything but dental records. Troy's cremated remains sat in the front of the church for his funeral attended only by my family.

None of Troy's friends came. Neither did anyone from work. Since I'd never met them and didn't know who to even contact, other than the HR person at Shaughnessy Corp I had to tell about my husband's death, that didn't strike me as odd.

Now, it does.

Now, it's more than odd. It's sinister.

Kenneth looks at me for several long seconds. "I wish I didn't have to answer that."

My breathing turns shallow. I want to say, then don't, but I also want to know the truth. I need to know the truth.

"Our underboss believes betrayal has to be remembered."

Ice settles in my veins. "What does that mean?"

"He made an example of Troy before firing him." Kenneth waits a beat. "Permanently."

He means death. He means the underboss killed my husband.

I don't want to ask. I do anyway. "An example how?"

"He was tortured."

I jerk, knocking my mug of tea off the table. Hot liquid splashes my ankles and pools on the floor. I don’t care about the mess or the sting where the tea hit my skin.

"He wanted every man under him to understand what happens to a rat," Kenneth goes on with every evidence of sympathy, but there's a coldness deep in his eyes that makes me shiver.

The coffee shop disappears. All I hear is that word.

Tortured.

"They didn't..." My voice cracks. "They didn't even let me see him."

"There wasn't much left to see."