Page 11 of Heritage of Blood

Standing he leaves the room. Five minutes later my email dings with a new attachment from Nik. A pull on my belly has me throwing back my glass and slamming it on the table. Clicking open the file I fix my eyes on the girl who was there that night, in her beater car, messy bun, and blue eyes I could get lost in.

Her name is Kate Castile, twenty-four years old. Went to Hudson Community College but never continued. Now she is working for Emporium Catering. Mother lives forty-five minutes outside the city in a suburb, father has died. She lives in a rough one-bedroom apartment in an awful part of town.

Nothing about this profile is worth my time, yet with every other word I read I’m pulled to her photo. A heaviness in my chest pushes me to close the profile after I’ve scrolled through a bunch of absolutely nothing. There is nothing here to suggest another organization has gotten to her.

So why has she gotten to me?

I text Nik, telling him to pull security footage of the senator’s campaign event.

I stand with a purpose, unable to sit there thinking about her any longer. I need a drink and a shower.

I’ll be out front in 5.

I text Ivan and pull on my suit jacket.

When the elevator dings on the ground floor, I push through to the armored Escalade and slide in. Ivan glances at me in the rearview mirror, but I ignore him, choosing to set my sights on the tall skyscrapers marking my territory. A numb, weakness penetrates me, and I grind my molars.

I have never been out of control. I calculate it all, never letting the mask fall. But right now, a haze has settled over me, only becoming clearer the more I think about her, and I can’t have that.

I pull out my pistol and check the chamber, Ivan’s eyes betraying his thoughts.

“Take me to warehouse three,” I demand.

Ivan nods and radios on his earpiece for the guards in our follow car.

I know one way to gather my control.

* * *

The blood swirlsto the drain as frigid water pelts my back. I stand, swaying with power. We had a Cosa Nostra soldier in holding, and I took the last four hours relieving him of any information he had. I removed every single tooth and beat him within an inch of his life. Still, he only gave up scraps of information. I’ve known Buscetta’s men are loyal, but this loyalty runs deep, not with respect but with fear.

The water continues to cascade over my body, and I let out a deep sigh. The man has probably bled out by now with no medical attention. I ordered my men to leave him until he expired and then get rid of the body.

This kill was the distraction I needed. I relish the darkness snuffing out a certain woman and taking root in my heart. I let it fester here, squashing my weakness. Fisting my hair, blue eyes infiltrate my vision.Damn it.I rear my fist back and punch the tiled wall.

Chapter8

Kate

It’s been almost a week since our last large event. I’m scrolling my banking app walking an aisle in the grocery store and trying to gaugejusthow much I can spend before we have the fancy art gala this weekend. It is being held at a pier on the water and I’m eager to work an event focused on something I can appreciate. Senator Hope’s campaign still gives me the creeps.

My phone jumps vibrating in the front part of my cart and I see Derek’s name pop up. I sigh and slide the bar to answer.

“Hey! What’s up?” I say in my friendliest voice.

“Kate! It’s been a while. How have you been? I’ve been thinking about you.” Derek’s voice has always been an overconfident one. He is a policeman, therefore it’s rare we can get together with our schedules. We never committed to anything serious. He has always kept me in the maybe more friend corner, and I’ve let him.

He is everything Ishouldwant in a man. Envisioning how our whole life would play out is easy. Safe and comfortable. But part of me, maybe some deep, dark, inexcusable part, wants more. Blurring the lines between complacent and disruptive.

“I’ve been good, busy. You?” I answer.

“Yeah, yeah me too. Hey, listen, do you want to get together this weekend? You should come over.”

I cringe at the way he says come over. It suggests he wants more but only in the isolation of his apartment.

“Actually, I have to work this weekend. I’m sorry. Let’s grab coffee sometime, though.” I keep my words short because I’m not even sure ‘coffee sometime’ will happen.

“Okay, Kate. I’ll talk to you later.” He sounds upset, and I wonder if I’m sabotaging something good.

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