Page 9 of Small Town Secrets

He twisted to find she held one hand pressed to her collarbone, her cheeks pale and slack, like a woman not usually stunned.

Though the crowd clapped and cheered for Chip and Ally’s reunion, Laila turned and peered up to him with a resigned sort of shrug. “Still want to ask me out?”

Five

Mark Farro hung up the phone from one of many long conversations with yet another syndicate associate. Once again, he’d had to hash out the implications of his recent setback in Harlow, then graciously accept a new round of reprimands. The words “You fucked up” had become all too familiar and grating to him. After all that was done, he’d shared the news that Rudolph Manzinni was now involved and so this associate—like all other associates—had no choice but to pledge their allegiance to Mark.

He leaned back in his chair and looked out the window of the unsophisticated cabin, in this Podunk town he was forced to hide in. Though not just any Podunk town. This one was in North Dakota, just over the Minnesotan border and not too far from Harlow. A long cry from the hustle and bustle of the cities he enjoyed, but with every syndicate resource at his disposal.

Damn Harlow. No doubt every smug bastard there figured they’d disrupted his plans. And maybe they had. But they hadn’t gone nearly far enough. He turned his attention to the thud of footfall and his open office door and the only other person in this cabin. His assistant, Stix. The man strolled past and shot Mark his habitual scowl, then disappeared out of view.

This man had been at his side for years and was the closest person to gain Mark’s trust outside of his cousin Luciano, who, thanks to Harlow, still wasted away in a Midwestern prison. But Stix here wasn’t very talkative. Not that Mark cared for pointless chatter. Stix’s lack of general expression made it impossible to know his thoughts and motivations, which added an air of uncertainty to just how much he could be trusted.

One thing Mark did know. Stix had stuck close where others bailed, perhaps under the impression Mark would find them a safe and lucrative exit from the syndicate. But so far, he’d failed. Maybe Mark’s mind played tricks, but he got the sense that Stix’s low-key seething had increased since landing in this cabin.

With Stix now gone, a chill rippled through Mark’s body, and he did something the man had told him not to. He pushed out of his chair and strolled over to the window—windows being a vulnerable spot for bullets should one of the many people who wanted Mark dead track him down.

No one bothered him more than Rudolph Manzinni, a man so meticulous, neither Mark nor Luciano had ever met him. So very few people in the syndicate had. A man whose reputation for revenge kept even the most ruthless syndicate members in line. What would Rudolph do if Mark failed again?

The man’s resources seemed endless. He’d hunted down escaped members to far-flung places across the globe. Just as Mark had hoped the Stonewall deal would grant him freedom, or at least significant distance, the entire operation folded, and he was left to feel damn lucky just to be alive.

Much of his assets had been seized. All he had left was a cache of physical cash he’d kept hidden from everyone. And now he needed to be more careful than ever.

His next plans had to unfold flawlessly. Before the law or anyone else could stop him. So, first priority was to stay hidden. To not get caught. With that in mind, he stepped away from the window’s light and the tranquil view of a wide front yard, complete with thick greenery and floral garden arch.

He’d return to his task of gathering help from his syndicate contacts, to picking up the phone and making more calls. Perhaps Rudolph being pissed wasn’t such a bad thing. Mark now had the entire syndicate working toward his success. He had room for one big and final plan. To fulfill his promise to level all of Harlow into extinction.

He would make an example out of that God-awful town. Would show the world what came of anyone who crossed him. Sure enough, he’d turn the people of Harlow into prisoners in their own homes—and just like prisoners—they would dream of escape where none existed.

Maybe everyone figured him to be down and out, but truth was, he had even more ambition than before. He would watch from afar as, one by one, each resident reached their breaking point and turned on the others. Not such a sweet little town after all. He’d make each resident into a hypocrite. Show them that they weren’t all that different to him.

Now, all that remained was to decide how much he would give up getting all that he wanted.

Six

Three days after Emilia’s wedding and Laila stood at the black iron gates of Harlow Municipal Gardens, her fingers curled around the handlebar of Whitney’s abandoned hot-pink scooter. The little girl skipped ahead and chatted to the yellow daisies along the gravel path, all the while heading toward the bright orange swings in the playground up ahead.

Laila’s explanation to Whitney about today was that they were here to meet and get to know their new neighbor, Ramos, who was definitely just a potential “friend.” As much as Whitney had gleefully accepted that version of the truth, she’d asked endless questions about Ramos, wanting to know what shows he liked or whether he liked the same food as her. Of course, Laila couldn’t answer any of that. She barely knew the man. Which only left her running her gaze over these pristine gardens and the too-perfect blue sky, while wondering why she’d ever expressed an interest in meeting up today.

Seeing Chip and Ally back together and so happy had made spontaneous emotion drown out her better sense. Or maybe it was the ache that came with remembering just how many years had passed since she’d had a similar private life.

Her stomach churned and she felt overly hot. The last date she’d been on was some five years ago and long before Whitney’s birth. Now, the heaviness of guilt only sank deeper into her tummy, because even this playground setting made this rendezvous feel like not a date at all. As though the chances were strong that her complex situation would prove too much for Ramos and he’d make some excuse to bail.

Who am I kidding?

That said, him seeing the reality of dating a single mom wasn’t such a bad thing. Both her parents worked. As did she. It was near impossible to get an evening off for any kind of socializing. So, daytime park dates it had to be. Perhaps she could just relax now and let “real life” take care of this man.

And speaking of the man, Ramos rose from a gray metal bench farther up the path, then embarked on a far-too-casual stroll her way. Her heartbeat climbed with his every step. He wore what she’d already decided was his uniform of black t-shirt, dark jeans, and a self-satisfied smile. But before he could reach her, Whitney got to him first.

“Hey, Mister Man!” Whitney yelled the over exuberant welcome and swung her arm up in the air, directing a decisive high-five his way.

In the next beat, she was gone, off to claim the one free seat on the swings. The corners of his eyes crinkled from his genuine grin, and he stalked closer to Laila, while she pressed a knuckle to her mouth and fought to restrain her laughter. Thanks, Whitney. What an ice breaker.

A portion of calm took over and she decided to help close the distance toward him, soon extending her arms in what felt like a date-appropriate hug.

She drew back and tried to ignore the spicy-earth scent coming off his skin, nudging her head Whitney’s way. “Sorry ‘bout that, and sorry we’re a bit late. Leaving the house with a kid, not easy, yah know?”

He gave a relaxed shrug. “All good. I would have offered to walk down with you, but I didn’t want to assume. I’m just glad you made it.”

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