Page 53 of The Secrets We Share

“Proof?” I ask, not sure where she’s going with this.

“Proof that she’s dead. If she was working with the feds or trying to take people worse than my father down, how do we know she was actually shot? Maybe they’re doing all of this to get her into witness protection, or fuck, maybe she’s been kidnapped.”

“Sweetness.” I run my hand soothingly across her thigh.

“In either of those situations, she would have been taken away quietly, simply vanished for a while. There wouldn’t be half of the NYPD camping around her home for the last twelve hours.”

“Fuck!” The excuses seem to wash away at my words, taken over by a sudden fury.

The mug in her hands flies across the room, crashing against the wall, coffee dripping down the white paint. She gets off the bed, stomping back and forth in front of me.

“This is all my fault. I never should have involved her.”

There it is, the moment I was dreading. I knew she’d blame herself in this situation, regardless of Nikita’s associations.

“Keira.” I try to pull her from her whispered musing, but she doesn’t stop to look at me. Standing from the bed, I move into her path, and her body collides with mine. “Keira,” I say again, a little more sternly this time. My tone and fingers holding her in place by the shoulders stop her, and she looks up. “This isn’t your fault. Even if, and I say if with the smallest possibility, Domenico was involved, this is on him. You didn’t hire the person to take the hit. You didn’t pull the trigger. It’s too heavy of a burden to bear.”

She falls into my chest, letting me hold her while she processes only half of the news I need to share. After a few quiet moments, she pulls back, finding my eyes.

“I’m going to find out who did this to her. I’m going to find them, and when I do, they’re going to regret the choice they made to take her life.”

I cup her face, and she leans into it, not losing any of the fierce determination in her eyes. “One thing at a time, sweetness. But the news about Nikita isn’t all I need to talk to you about. Come to my office.”

TWENTY-FOUR

KEIRA

Trouble Finds You - Juliet Simms

My brain is still tripping over the news about Nikita, and now he drops there’s more. What a way to wake up and start my day. I know him. He’s saved the worst for last so that he can handle the fallout. That only makes my footsteps more hesitant as I follow him down the long hallway to his office. Nervous energy pours off him in waves, filling the room with an uncomfortable air. For the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel at ease in this apartment.

Harkin steps behind his desk, pulling open a drawer, before dropping a file folder onto the desktop. A sense of déjà vu washes over me. One where that file was full of information he and James had collected about me. Now, it’s a weight I struggle to lift from the surface. When I finally do and open it to reveal what’s inside, my entire world halts on its axis.

“What the… hell is this?” I stammer, the words getting caught in my throat.

“I found it while trying to locate your grandfather.”

“Harkin, this is. No. It’s not real.” The file and its contents tumble to the floor from my trembling hands.

A piercing sharpness settles in my chest, knocking what little breath I have out of my system. It’s happening. The room is closing in. Sweat beads at the nape of my neck and temples, but my fingertips grow numb. I crumble to the floor. The hard knock of my knees hitting doesn’t register. I dig my fingers into the thick carpet, grasping for a lifeline.

Heaviness settles around my body, but it’s hot and overwhelming my system. I struggle against it, but I can’t break free. It doesn’t move away, no matter how hard I fight. Exhaustion creeps in quickly, with my breaths still shallow, and eventually, I go limp, surrendering to the darkness bleeding into my vision.

A soft thump, thump, pats against my chest. The rhythmic feeling focuses my vision of the bookshelf across the room. Harkin’s firm arm presses tight against my chest to settle my back against him.

“Come on, baby, breathe for me. In for five, out for five.” Harkin’s worried whisper draws me in. His large hand falls from my chest over my abdomen. “Breathe into my hand,” he instructs.

After a few gasping intakes of air, I can finally settle into his instructions. He doesn’t let go, doesn’t rush me through the breathing, doesn’t even make to stand once my body relaxes and my anxiety has calmed to a place where I can function.

“I want to go see her,” I murmur under my breath, knowing damn well he’s going to tell me it’s a terrible idea.

We don’t know what’s going on. My mind can’t even piece together a reality in which the pictures he gave me are real and not some sick and twisted mind game. I need to see for myself. I’m not saying it’s impossible. Alina’s reemergence is evidenceenough. But I was there when she died. The events of that morning are burned layers deep into my psyche.

“I knew you would. It’s why I waited to tell you. The pictures we found are from an apartment building your grandfather owns in Midtown.”

I whip around to look at him. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

Nimble fingers push back a lock of hair that’s fallen free from my messy bun. “I’ll follow you anywhere, sweetness.” He pauses, eyes volleying back and forth from mine to the mess of photos scattered across the office floor. “But we don’t know what we’re walking into. I’ve yet to locate your grandfather at this location, but that doesn’t mean he’s not there with her. I just want you prepared for anything to happen.”

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