Page 14 of Haunting the Shadow Man
“But like all beautiful women, they choose the dogs, trash, and scum of the earth over men that would do anything for them.” Jackson growls as he slams the picture back down onto the shelf and turns back to me. “Now that you have clothes on and are appropriate, some concerns have been brought to my office about the people you are keeping company with.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you are speaking of,” I tell him, being honest.
“Do not play dumb with me, Miss Wagner.” He flips open the iPad in his hand and taps away on it before speaking again. “As a condition of your parole, you are not to be in touch with orassociate with anyone that is also on parole, a felon, or doing illegal things. Do you recall our speaking about this?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything we spoke about for my parole,” I answer him, twisting my fingers together in front of me. “I still do not understand what this is about. As far as I know, I haven’t been in contact with anyone like you’ve described.”
Officer Jackson turns the iPad around so that I can see what is on the screen. “Do you know the man in this picture?”
I take a step forward to look at the picture on the screen. Staring back at me is the man from this afternoon and the diner, only unlike every time I’ve seen him before, in this picture he looks beyond anything I could have imagined. The man is just as big as I remembered him being, wearing a three-piece navy suit, a navy shirt that is opened at the collar, and a pair of polarized sunglasses hiding his green eyes.
“Again, Miss Wagner, do you know the man in this picture?” Officer Jackson demands.
“I’ve met him a few times. To say I know him or spend time with him would be a gross overreach of the situation,” I snap back at him, not okay with the way he is speaking with me. The scared, meek girl is taking a backseat for the woman ready for a fucking fight!
“Again,” he states, his eyes burrowing into mine. “Miss Wagner, this is not a game. I can put you back in prison if you’re associating with someone like him. He is the worst of the worst. Don’t be a stupid girl like your mother was. Stay with men who are actually decent. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
His words are like daggers to my soul. I never want to go back to prison in any way, shape, or form. Straightening my spine, I level my glare at the man giving me whiplash from his back-and-forth bullshit.
“I do not know what you’re insinuating here today. What I do know is that someone who looks like that man came by today and helped me in my yard. If that is a problem and against my parole, I will be sure not to allow this to happen again,” I state flatly.
“Be sure that you don’t,” he says, turning on his heels and marching out the door, slamming it so hard behind himself that the picture of my mother and me falls over on the shelf.
As soon as the door is closed, I drop onto the couch, all the fight leaving my body. Laying my head back on the back of it, I let a few stray tears fall as I try to figure out what the fuck I did in a previous life that would warrant all the bullshit I’ve been dealt. When the answer doesn’t reach out and slap me, I clinch my teeth and pull myself to my feet. There is no time to sit around and wallow in self-pity. I’ve got a job to do and people to fucking avoid.
I should know better by now than to think the universe gives a fuck about what I want. The bitch has never cared before now, and by the week's end it would appear she still doesn’t.
Eight
Vito
Two weeks.
Two weeks since I have heard her laugh.
Two motherfucking weeks since I felt her by my side.
With nothing more than a single day in the sun, digging in the dirt and she is under my skin. She is so fucking deep that I feel as if my skin is too tight, and I can’t fucking breathe. I dream about her every night.
Some are nightmares of Alan getting to her. Some are of her on her knees, my hand fisted in her hair as she swallows my cock. I either wake in a cold fucking sweat or with my cock fisted in my hand and her name on my lips as I come all over my stomach like some fucking teenager. By day four of that, the need to haul her away from her life and lock her in the main house on the farm where I knew she was okay was nearly too fucking much.
I was halfway to her house to do just that when I got a call from Giaco letting me know that our borrowed shipment was only an hour out and the load wouldn’t be handed over to anyone but myself or Andre. I flipped my SUV around, dialed the number of one of my soldiers, and let him know his job was to keep her safe but stay unseen. Doing that did very little to squelch the need to go to her and make certain she is okay.
I slam through the barn door with frustration and anger rolling off me to the point all my soldiers are sure to stay clear of me. I take in the men working to get our last shipment until we get back from Nashville pulled together. As I make it to the office door, I stop short when I see it’s cracked and there is movement inside. I slide my suit jacket open, placing my hand on the pistol at my side. Slowly, I place my foot by the door and push it open. I feel the buzz of an upcoming fight sliding through me. The door swings open and standing in the office is one of our soldiers sifting through a legitimate horse farm’s file. Once the door is open far enough for me to slide through, I step in and quietly push the door until it’s nearly closed, then I clear my throat.
Hank spins around, and all the color drains from his face as his eyes land on mine. Leaning back against the doorjamb, I say nothing while waiting for him to decide how he is going to handle being trapped.
“Vito, how are you doing today?” He finally settles on playing stupid.
“I’m doing much better now that it seems I have something fun to play with,” I shrug nonchalantly.
Hank swallows hard, fisting his hands at his side, eyes darting around wildly. Standing there, I finally get bored waiting for him to figure out what he wants to do next.
“There isn’t a way out of this fucking room except the door directly behind me,” my tone is flat and bored. “You want to tell me why you're in the office digging through paperwork?”
“I was looking for a file for one of the boarded horses. Was told that they were in a filing cabinet in the office in the barn,” he says quickly.
“See, the thing about the file you're supposedly looking for is it would be in the boarder's barn, and if my eyes aren’t deceivingme, that is notthis barn.” Releasing a weary breath as if disappointed, I continue, “Let’s try this. You get three chances to answer me properly. If after three you don’t convince me that there is a valid reason you’re digging around in not only an office, but one you have no reason to be inanda barn that you shouldn’t be anywhere near, we’ll start digging for answers my way.”
