Page 39 of The Shadows We Keep

My apartment’s dimmed down for the night. The amber glow from the lamps lining the street illuminates the night outside. But a sudden brightness snags my attention. Glimpsing the slightest movement, I’m pulled to the window to observe.

Her curtain is open, which she never does at night. I can see as clearly as if I was looking through a telephoto lens. Her dingy orange chair sits facing the window next to the coffee table. We’d been entangled on the couch only hours earlier, but now its seats look empty without our bodies.

Everything is still. The curtain doesn’t sway; the tv doesn’t play. She’s gone from the picture. And then it changes in slow motion. She drops into the ugly chair; she looks different relaxed, comfortable. It’s then I notice she still has my shirt on. Her legs pull up and tuck under her body. She leans over and grabs a wine glass filled to the brim with red liquid. I don’t know how she can drink after the night she had yesterday. You’d think blacking-out would be enough to vanquish any desire to drink.

Her lips part on the glass, she doesn’t tip it back; the glass is too full for that. Instead, her throat bobs as she slowly sucks the liquid down. Her other hand tucks down beside her body and pulls out a book. She flips through the pages, resting it on her lap until she finds her spot. It’s at that moment when her head snaps up, her eyes cast in my direction, and her hand with the wine glass raises in salute.

Her acknowledgement makes me want to forget about the projects I have and march over to her apartment, fling the door open, and finish what we started. But my curiosity wins out as I spin on my heels and sulk back to my office.

Dropping into my chair, I skim through the files online. The list related to the bank accounts is long. Cross-referencing is going to be a pain in the ass, but I refuse to give them information on bank accounts for anyone that doesn’t deserve whatever’s coming to them. Although, I have a feeling these guys expect all or nothing when it comes to reporting back. If I had any information on them other than the place where we set the meeting, I’d dig into them too.

The night is long. I couldn’t stop piecing together the situation. Every new hit that came in built a clearer picture, and it’s not a good one. I got up no less than eight times to check on her, even though by the third her curtain was closed, and the lights were off. It didn’t stop my incessant need to walk to the window and check, in case she couldn’t sleep.

Standing in front of the cork board, I analyze the pages filling every inch of space. James was right; Marco’s father works for the Mob but he’s no one of importance. He makes enough money, and he’s smart enough to funnel it into a legitimate business. As legitimate a business can be, when it’s washing cash for the biggest Italian crime family in New York.

Other than the familial connection, there was nothing specific in my search about Marco. His arrest record, on the other hand, was quite enlightening, enough so that I woke James up in the middle of the night to order a full surveillance system install for her apartment while she’s at work today.

If I could force her out of that dilapidated apartment and into mine, I would—in a heartbeat. But other than kidnapping her and tying her up in the gym, I don’t see that going over well. However, if that low life, piece of shit does anything to lay a finger on her, our little screaming match will be the least of his worries.

EIGHTEEN

KEIRA

Do It For Me - Rosenfield

The last bag slams against the conveyer belt and my body shoves to the right. Tripping over my feet, I look over and see Stacey with the biggest smile on her face. “Let’s go out tonight!” she basically begs.

“Girl, it’s a Wednesday night. Where do you think is worth going out to?” I’m genuinely curious. We could go out for a couple of drinks anywhere, but the glint in her eyes tells me mischief is afoot.

“Red is open every night. Tonight’s members only, but I still have that guy’s number from that night you left early.” Stacey reminds me.

Lovely, she wants to go to the that club.

“Do we really have to go there? If it’s members only, is it only going to be upstairs?”

She drops me a knowing smile.

Fuck my life.“Fine. Swing by my place on your way over.”

Staring into the hall mirror,I fix my lipstick. A knock on the door kills any free time I have left to work on my look, so I pull the door open for Stace.

“You ready?” I spout while shoving my keys in my bag.

A whistle meets my ears, and my eyes fly up. “Now, where are you going looking like that?” Harkin asks, leaning against the door frame.

“I’m going out with a friend. She should be here any minute. I assumed you were her, or I would have checked before I opened.”

He stiffens.

“You always check. You understand me.” His tone is severe. Dropping my eyes to the floor, I nod in understanding.

“Keirrraaaaa!” I hear my name being screeched down the hall before Stace comes into view.

“You ready to go?” Her eyes roam over Harkin’s body. When her eyes finally draw away from him and find my expectant gaze, she mouths:who’s this?

“Harkin, Stace. Stace, Harkin.”

“We’ve met.” He deadpans at her.

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