Page 16 of Rise By Sin

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “I could help you…”

“No,” I stopped him, knowing what he was going to say. “I’m good. Go to the club too and speak to the staff. See if anyone saw Colt leave that night, and find out if there’s any gossip going around about where he could be. I’ll be there later.”

“I wish you’d just talk to me, love. We used to be able to talk about anything, you, me, and Mason. What happened?” he sighed.

“We grew up, Jack.” I didn’t wait for him to reply. Instead I turned the lock on the door knob, then moved away from the door and over to Colt’s desk, swiping the drying tears from my face as I went. It was no use crying over what was lost. I had a job to do, and that had to be my focus. I’d find Colt, get him home and then get the hell out of there.

***

Two hours later I had been through every scrap of paper, date book, contract, and file in Colt’s office, and I had two leads. One was a contract for the money Colt had borrowed. It looked formal and legal, not like something anyone who would send the gunman to the my apartment would have put together, but who knew? Maybe even loan sharks dealt with paperwork nowadays? The loan was through a financial investment company called ‘Kilner Investments’and when I’d googled it the company website seemed fancy and definitely on the up and up. The name on the contract was G. Neaverson, so I needed to track him down and speak with him.

Te other lead was in Colt’s personal date book. He always kept two. One for business, which was always crammed with meetings, functions, fundraisers, and tons more business shit I wouldn’t do if my life depended on it. The other was just his personal commitments like lunches with me when I used to live there with him, or poker night with the guys. There was never anything much in it because Colt was mainly all business, no play. But his date book for this year had two initials beside one P.M. every single Wednesday through March and April, then the initials started to show up more and more often. Then two months ago they just stopped. The initial were K.M and I couldn’t think of a single associate of Colt’s I’d ever met whose name began with ‘K’ though I also realized it was likely a womansince he’d been meeting her so often. Either way I needed to find out, since Colt had never mentioned a girlfriend, or anyone new in his social life in the few times we’d spoken in the last year.

Everything else I found just seemed like the usual – contracts for suppliers for the bars and restaurants, employee contracts and that kind of boring, standard business owner crap.

I couldn’t find anything to clue me into who the initials could have been for, which was frustrating. I knew I’d need to ask Jack and Mason if they knew anything, since they were the most likely people Colt would confide in about his love life, or maybe Deacon, since they seemed close too.

I placed the contract and date book into my back pack after taking another dose of pain meds. I checked my gun was still where I left it in the zipped side pocket, loaded and ready if I needed it. I’d be screwed if I did, since I didn’t have a concealed carry permit for New York, but I’d handle that if it came to it. I didn’t feel safe enough in the city without my weapon. I might bullshit that I could handle myself, but I knew as well as anyone I spouted that lie to, that I was at a series disadvantage with my injury and the effects that made me as steady as a beachball in the damned wind. My gun and my knife were my only reassurance.

After making sure I returned everything to the drawers and cabinets just the way I’d found it – just the way my cray OCD brother liked and needed it to be – I unlocked the door and left the office as quietly as I could. I was pretty sure the guys had all cleared out like I told them to, since the place had seemed silent for a while now, but I still peaked around the corner into the living room before I stepped into it. Thankfully, it was empty, except for a paper bag on the coffee table right in the center. I moved towards it squinting to read the note attached to the top.

Don’t forget to eat before you head out.

Call me if you need anything at all. Our deal still stands.

Deak x

His cell number was scrawled at the bottom of the little sticky note and I found myself smiling at his thoughtfulness. How long had it been since anyone cared whether I ate or not?And whose fault is that?Colt would care, I told myself, but I had pushed him away.

I pulled the note from the bag and typed Deacon’s number into my contacts, then put the note in my pocket and dove into the flaky pastries I found inside. They were filled with fruit and before I had reached my car in the underground lot, I’d polished off all three. I would need to find out where he bought them from, because they had been the greatest thing I’d eaten in years.

I was a little breathless as I sat in the driver’s seat of my car and threw my stick into the back, but the pain was manageable for now, so I knew I had to keep going while I could. But before I started the car I pulled out my cell and brought up Deacon’s name. I debated for a moment, but I wanted to thank him for his kindness.

AVA - Gonna need the name of your pastry supplier.

I think I’m an addict already. It’s Ava BTW.

DEACON – Don’t worry. I’ll hook you up. ;) You good?

AVA – Yep. Thanks for breakfast. C U later.

DEACON – Stay safe and call if you need me.

I decided not to tell him where I was headed, since he seemed to be in cahoots with Jack and Mason and the last thing I wantedwas the turning up. I needed a clear head to find Colt and I sure as heck didn’t have that when either of them were close. I told myself I should also keep my distance from Deak too, since I seemed to be crushing on him like I crushed on Jeff Groves – the linebacker in my high school football team when I was fifteen years old, but I couldn’t. Her had been good to me, and I liked him. He made me feel calmer when he was close and as much as I denied it, I liked the way he’d taken care of me the previous night. If I was going to survive being back in that city, I was going to need a friemd, and it couldn’t be Jack or Mason, no matter how much I wanted it to be.

CHAPTER 5

AVA

Kilner Investmentstakes up the top ten floors of a high rise in the buzzing financial district of the city. By the time I stand outside that modern, glass covered monstrosity I’m already royally pissed after having to ride the subway and walk way too far to get to it, in the freezing fucking cold in nothing but jeans and my shitty, short leather jacket. I was half frozen and moving even more stiffly than usual since the cold did not agree with my weak muscles and aching legs.

I used to love the buzz and hustle of this insane city when I was younger. When Colt moved me there form the quiet life I’d been living before, it was like this whole other, amazing, exciting world and I adored it. Even when I left I’d gone to Chicago because I needed the thrill of a hectic city around me. I never felt more alive than when I was walking the packed sidewalks, taking in the smalls of the food and the city around me. Sure it had it’s drawbacks, but they were never enough to take that thrill away from me. I had been a true city girl. Even after the attack and with the anxiety and issues I dealt with as a result.

Then I was shot and the packed sidewalks were nothing but a damned inconvenience to me as I tried to hobble my way past people to get where I needed to go. The noise I used to love, hurt my head now and I hated the fact all of my happiness had beenstripped away. It was just another constant reminder that I was no longer the person I used to be.

So yeah, I was pissed as I walked into the polished entry way and made my way to the elevators. I didn’t even want to think about the epic battle I faced just to get back to where I had left my car in the parking lot of one of Colt’s restaurants on the outskirts of the city, knowing I’d never get parked any closer.

I stepped into the elevator and instantly cringed at the music playing overhead. It was something classical, not that I knew anything more than that, but I did know it was making my already throbbing head hurt more. Four people followed me in and I just managed to lean around a suited figure to hit the button for the twentieth floor before three more piled in, instantly making me feel uneasy in such a crowded and compact space. It wasn’t that I was claustrophobic, but I just felt uneasy when strangers were so close to me, especially in a contained space I could barely move enough to protect myself within.

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