Page 81 of The Shadows We Keep

“What happened to you?”

“Someone jumped me as I was coming in from the garage after you texted. Stuffed me in the corner. I just came to and came straight up here. Fuck, I’m sorry, man.” I dismiss his apology. I unintentionally dragged him into some serious shit over the last couple of days that he didn’t sign up for when he took this gig. He’s got the training, but I know he wanted something relaxing after being shot at most of his life in a war zone.

We head back into the office.

“Do you have any clue where they could have taken her?” I ask him. He’s been digging into these guys since the photos showed up. I had a strong suspicion they were behind them.

“A couple. The place where you guys had your first meeting. I’ve been tracking two men from there. They frequent some local businesses, but it’s the compound I’m more interested in.”

“A compound?” I ask with an air of intrigue.

“Yeah. You’re involved with the mafia, man. I don’t know how you got here, but it’s about to get messy.”

“About to? Did you not see the state of that warehouse? Shit got real the moment they tried to kill me. The big kicker is, my dad’s involved with them. I don’t know how deep, but he’s the reason I wasn’t here this morning. He pulled me away to warn me. Real fucking helpful that was.” My fist goes flying into the wall, rage boiling inside as I worry about my girl and what she’s going through.

“My dad said the man who has her wanted her. No, that heneededher. But he didn’t have the decency to tell me whoheis.”

“I’ve had some luck identifying some of the guys, but they’re all muscle. No one of importance, at least not after the guy you two took out at the warehouse. The word on the street is, the family did a little rearranging a couple years ago. The Don was taken out by his own nephew. Now the crew takes orders from him.”

I take in all the information, squirreling it away for when it might lead me to an answer that will help.

“So, where’s the compound?”

If I can find it and get close enough, maybe I can hack into their security system, get eyes on my girl, or cut it off the list of places we need to search to find her. I’d rather not go in guns blazing to the mafia’s fucking headquarters. Because I don’t see us coming out of there alive.

“A few hours outside the city; in the middle of the woods. There’s a couple of hiking trails out that way we can use to get close without being obvious. We can ditch the rig at the trailhead and close in.” Nodding in agreement with his assessment. I trust him for this shit. His background will get us further than mine will to find her.

Who knew my life would go from black sheep rich kid to some mafia action movie all because I couldn’t let a girl slip through my fingers.

This is insane.

THIRTY-FOUR

KEIRA

Can You Keep a Secret - Ellise

Iwait anxiously for this stranger to explain why I’ve had my privacy stripped, been attacked, and kidnapped, and then treated like an invited guest in his home. The longer I look at him, the more I notice his subtle traits, like his dark cinnamon eyes that crinkle around the edges with age or his humped, uneven nose that looks like it’s been broken a few times too many.

We sit in an extended silence, and my hands tremble in my lap while my knees bounce trying to exude the nervousness building. I need to get out of here and back to Harkin. Has he found the apartment quiet? The blood on the floor next to the empty bed where he left me?

My body runs cold, with the possibility that he still hasn’t come home, or worse yet, something horrific has already happened to him and he’s not coming after me. And if he’s not coming, that means nobody is. No one will notice I’m missing. We sold Stacey a fabricated story of what’s been going on. She knows I’m lying low. She’ll probably just think Harkin’s got me stowed away at the apartment for safe keeping.

If I want out of here, it’s up to me.

The man clears his throat. His penetrating inspection hasn’t stopped consuming every detail of me as I sit across from him. “I knew your mother.” His statement snatches the air from my lungs. I’ve never met anyone who knew my mother. A wave of emotion crashes over me as I absorb his admission.

“Your father too.”

That one piques my interest, pulling me from my dive into melancholy.

“What? How?” I whisper.

“We grew up together. Went to the same Catholic school. The one place where you’d find a truce between the families,” he says with a tight-lipped smile.

I don’t know what he means. I know nothing about my parents. The fading memories I have of my mom are wrapped in things we did together, not her past. Since she refused to tell me anything about my father when she was alive, and there was nothing in the apartment after she passed, I had nowhere to look. Even if I’d had wanted to.

I move forward to the edge of the couch, waiting for a breadcrumb of more information from him. I have a million questions; I want to know everything. It quickly blurs my reality and I no longer care about my current circumstances.

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