Page 30 of Dangerous Vengeance

I make my way upstairs, heels clicking on the marble. I glance over my shoulder at least a thousand times, but as I approach the top of the stairs, I run into someone, causing them to stumble. It’s a man dressed nicely in slacks and a sweater. My hands are shaking, my pulse racing, and he must notice I’m terrified because he looks at me with concern and reaches out his hand as he asks, “Are you okay?”

I step around him and shake my head. I can’t even find words right now. I can’t involve anyone, not even a complete stranger. The men coming after me are so dangerous they will kill anyone who gets in their way. Innocent people like my uncle have died because I involved them. This man probably has a partner and children or even grandchildren.

“I’m fine,” I choke out, but I’m not fine. I’m anything but fine. I need Matty to know his secret is safe and that I’m not going to tell anyone. I need him to not send men after me.

“But, Miss, I—"

I walk away before the man can say anything else, rushing across the grand foyer of the library to the front door. The large archways glow with golden light now. It’s getting late in the afternoon and the streets are filled with people now returning home from work for the day. I try to blend in, keeping with the hustle, but I walk a bit slower than most. My feet hurt and I swear the blisters have popped. And when I glance over my shoulder, I see the man again—the one from the library basement with the black jacket, turtleneck, and tattoo.

He's following me?

“Oh shit,” I breathe and turn back around so I don’t run into someone else. Adrenaline rushes through my body yet again today. My hands are sweaty, my mouth dry. I walk faster, pushing through the pain, and trying to force my brain to slow down and think rationally. He could just be walking the same way as me. So, I need to test that theory, but to move away from the crowd would be stupid.

I begin to weave my way toward the far-left side of the sidewalk, closest to the buildings. If he’s following me, he will move into a store when I do. So, I want to find the busiest store there is. I pass several good options because for right now my body is in such a state of flight mode, I can’t trust myself to do anything but keep walking. Every time I glance over my shoulder the man is there.

Finally, when I see a pharmacy with its bright red lights flashing on the sign, I duck in, hugging my arms to my chest. I’m freezing now, a sure sign I’m having an anxiety attack. I’m sweating and shaking, probably look like I have a fever. I move down the first row and turn to stare out the windows. It seems like fifteen minutes goes by before the man enters my field of view. In reality it’s only a few seconds; I’m just so on edge time seems to stand still.

I hold my breath, fearing the man will enter the store, but he passes by as if he is completely unaware that I’m even in this world he lives in. Still, I stand frozen to the floor of that pharmacy shaking. I can’t do this. I’m not cut out for this type of intensity. Sheffield was right to warn me. They killed him in cold blood without thinking twice. What will they do to me?

“You okay, Miss?”

The voice startles me, and I jerk and turn around to see a young boy, maybe sixteen years old. He is wearing a vest with the pharmacy logo on it, carrying a price gun. I take a deep breath and nod, trying not to let show how afraid I just was.

“Uh, do you sell prepaid phones here?” I need someone to make calls, maybe do a bit more research.

“Yes, we do. This way.” He nods and I follow him to the register, still acutely aware that I am a sitting duck.

Just because that man wasn’t following me, doesn’t mean the next person I fear isn’t. I need Matty’s word that he isn’t sending me after me. I need to know he won’t hunt me down. I gave him the files—the only files. I have no copies, no friends to send them to if I did. I told him that so he would think I was prepared. I hadn’t begun to prepare. Sheffield only gave me the okay like thirty minutes before I was snatched off the side of the street. But I’d made my name for snooping around over the past few years when I had no fear of the larger world of crime. Now, my fear was healthy and alive.

“Here you are,” the teen says, gesturing.

I look at all the different models and just grab one. “I just need this and whatever minutes it comes with. Can you activate it?” Handing him the phone in its plastic wrapping, I reach into my pocket and pull out the wad of cash.

He leads me to the register, scans my phone and I pay, then he activates it for me and I am back on the street, hiding in a nook near the front door where I’m out of the breeze. It’s starting to get chilly now and I don’t have a good jacket. Only this suit. I pull out the scrap of paper with the phone numbers on it and dial Matty’s, holding the phone to my ear.

The voicemail picks up, so I leave a message. “Matt… It’s Natalie. I’m so sorry. I left the laptop for you. Please, leave me alone now. Please keep your brothers away from me. I won’t tell a soul; I swear. I just need to find Hal’s killer.”

When I hang up my gut tightens into a knot. I don’t think he’s going to listen. But I had to try.

18

MATTY

Rome is gone when I get there, maybe moved on due to the gunshots fired. I run right past where he was parked and duck into an alley. I have no weapon to defend myself and it’s not like I can bring fists to a gunfight. I already hear sirens blaring in the distance. These guys don’t mess around at all. I catch my breath and peek into Natalie’s bag. The laptop is there and the charger, but I still need her. I can’t get into this laptop without her passcode.

As the sirens approach, I rise from my crouching position and walk down the alley away from the newspaper. I keep my guard up, knowing at any second someone could spot me and know I was the one involved in the shooting. I need a car to get back across town. I call Rome, wondering where he’s at, and he picks up.

“Sorry, man. A meter maid chased me away and by the time I got around the block I heard the shots. You were gone. It’s not safe for me to drive back in there. The meter maid knows the car and plate number. They’ll associate it with the shooting for sure.”

“Yeah, I get it…” I am frustrated but Roman is exactly right and he’s doing the right thing. It’s every man for himself at this point. We’ve had our soldiers get caught up in shit like this and go down, but us five brothers always keep our noses clean because we know how to get out of shit. “I’ll be at Dominic’s in fifteen minutes,” I tell him, eyeing a car. A young man probably in his early twenties is walking toward an old Ford Focus.

“See you then,” Rome says and hangs up.

I walk right up to the man and point the gun at him. It won’t do anything except act as a blunt object to knock him one, but it appears menacing at least. This guy doesn’t know I printed it on my 3D printer at home.

“Give me your keys,” I order, and he holds his hands up, keys dangling from his middle finger.

“Woah, man. Go easy. No need to shoot me.”

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