Page 3 of Conquer

And I couldn’t allow that to happen.

I usually lingered at Maxim’s house, but today I didn’t stop to visit with Senna or her and Maxim’s son. She’d notice that I didn’t, and so would Maxim, but I was just too preoccupied today. So, I left, not bothering to speak to Senna or any of the guards that protected Maxim’s home.

None of them tried to stop me.

It was one of the benefits of cultivating the reputation that I had.

Very few people tried to get close to me. In fact, only Senna had, and that had only happened over the course of many years.

I liked it that way, valued my solitude, and didn’t envy anyone’s connections. Connections made people weak, but my distance kept me strong, protected, able to do what it was I meant to without having to second guess myself or Maxim’s orders.

Simple, easy.

Or it had been until her.

When I reached my car, I got in and drove away. Only when I was several miles away from the suburban neighborhood that Maxim had co-opted as his own did I finally look at the picture he had given me.

As I stared at the grainy image, my heart gave that unfamiliar tug that appeared when I saw her. I still didn’t understand it and wondered if there’d ever be a time when I looked at her and didn’t feel it.

I didn’t know, but if I wasn’t careful, I would soon find out.

When I’d first seen her, I’d never thought it would come to this. I’d somehow convinced myself that I would be able to continue as I had been, working for Maxim and then retreating to images of her.

It had been a lie, an impossible dream, one that was now over.

I folded the picture, careful not to put a crease in her face, and then continued driving.

Sam

The office was quiet when I arrived that morning, and I raised a fist at my good fortune. I always tried to get here early, but given the nature of what we did and the often unpredictable hours, I could never be certain who might be here.

So as I walked to my desk, my shoes squeaking on the polished stone floor, I cheered silently. I didn’t doubt I’d soon have company, but I’d take whatever time alone in the office I could get.

I sometimes worked on my little side project in plain sight of others, but I lived for these quiet moments, early in the morning or late into the night, when I could work without interruption.

And the more I worked, the more suspicious I became. So working when I was alone or even better, when I was at home, had become my preferred habit.

I retrieved my file from my briefcase and as had become my ritual, I read it and tried to piece together new connections.

Technically, this wasn’t my job or even my case.

I was an investigator for the state investigator’s office and worked in the business fraud division. My job usually consisted of combing through financial records to find inconsistencies, and, if I got lucky, I could flash my woefully underused badge at a bank manager to get copies of statements.

Not necessarily the most exciting work, but I loved it and found a kind of solace among the papers and records that I used to re-create people’s lives.

Which made what I was doing now all the more surprising.

I looked at the blurry picture of Santo Carmelli, lingering for a moment as I stared into eyes that were menacing even in print. I continued reading the file, thinking about how innocently all of this had started.

Three years ago, I’d been investigating a local restaurant owner who’d had a bad habit of stealing her employees’ wages. During that investigation, I’d found some anomalies in her records, and for reasons I still didn’t understand, I’d kept them to myself.

But I hadn’t let them go. No, I’d kept digging and eventually found a trail that ended at Santo Carmelli’s second in command, Michael Briar.

Santos was a scumbag and the number one boss of organized crime in the state. Or, at least he had been until he’d disappeared two years ago. Nothing too suspicious in that since I knew Santo’s list of enemies was many miles long.

But when his second in command, who just so happened to be a state informant, had also disappeared, my curiosity had been piqued.

I’d raised the topic of Michael Briar’s disappearance to my supervisor casually, making some vague reference to it at softball league. I’d been brushed off and shut down hard, something only made me that much more curious.

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