“Just be careful,” he warns, bringing down his intense tone a bit.
“I will be, now let me out, please. It’s getting late,” I urge him.
Still, the car doors remain locked.
“I said be careful,” he grits through his teeth.
“I heard you. Now, let me the fuck out. This isn’t funny, Eric.”
A sinister chuckle vibrates from his throat. “No one ever said it was funny. A man like Mr. Moretti has more skeletons in his closet than a graveyard has dead bodies. I suggest you heed my warning, or I fear the joke will be on you.”
An ironic warning coming from Eric, who is keeping me in this damn car for his sick amusement, while vaguely threatening me with his riddles.
“Whatever, Eric, unlock this damn car, now.”
The lock clicks, finally, as he unlocks the car. I grab my purse to hustle out of the backseat as he warns me one last time, in case I didn’t hear him already, with the numerous warnings he gave me while holding me captive.
I slam the car door shut and cross my arms, trying to bundle myself more in Carmine’s jacket. Eric doesn’t drive away yet, and I can feel his glare on me, but I don’t care. I hurry into the lobby of the apartment to warm up.
As I wait for the elevator to come down, I briefly ponder Eric’s warnings. I know there is some truth to them. I’m not stupid. I know there are demons Carmine tries to hold at bay, but I’m okay with that. What Eric doesn’t realize is my bigger concern is trying to figure out if Carmine’s demons want to end me or play with the ones I have tried to suppress for so long.
Chapter33
Carmine
Adrenaline fills my chest as it travels to my ears, robbing me temporarily of my hearing. I continue up the stairs to see where that noise came from. It was such a loud thud, almost like someone dropped something heavy or stomped their foot. Trying to rack my brain for what could have made such a sound, I lead the way with my pistol, just in case.
With bated breath, I begin to scan the hallway before investigating each room. The upstairs of the brownstone, although ornate, is small. There’s just a rectangular landing that leads to my bedroom, the bathroom, and a small utility room.
So far, the landing looks untouched, not that there is anything to the landing, aside from the glistening oak wood floor. Each door to the three rooms upstairs looks just as I remember leaving it. All ajar, so nothing peculiar there. I walk through the doorway to my bedroom first and flick on the light switch swiftly with the tip of my gun. I stand on the threshold and examine my still-made bed. Not even an imprint on it.
Back out onto the center landing, I make my way to the bathroom, remembering Eric mentioning something about a leaky pipe. In all the years I have lived here, I have never had any issue with the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom, despite the age of this place.
The bathroom is small, with a large white clawfoot tub that I upgraded to shortly after moving in, taking up most of the space. The first thing I do in the bathroom is quickly open the curtain, thinking if someone were hiding, that would be an obvious hiding spot. But as I move the thick, white curtain, nothing is there but an empty tub. I then inspect the exposed plumbing of the tub and there are no leaks. The only other possibility of a leak would be from the sink. I open the vanity doors and with my empty hand, feel under the sink, and just as I suspected, it is completely fucking dry. Not a drip, fucking nothing.
Despite the coast being clear, relief is the furthest thing from what I am feeling right now. A suspicious rage begins to take over as I grip my pistol tighter before making my way back downstairs to the study. The supposed leak, the loud bang suddenly feels more like a distraction technique than impending danger.
I rush down the stairs to make sure the study and what lays behind it are still intact. I’m inches from the entrance of the study in the hallway when I feel a breeze hit my legs, first traveling up my spine. I walk closer, pushing the door all the way open to see the bookcase intact, thankfully, but the window is open. The curtains flail in the October wind. I go to close the window, rattling my brain as to what is going on, when I see it.
It can’t be.
I walk closer in a panic. The study still feels chilly from the wind that blew in prior to me shutting the window, but my body is encompassed in sweat. The thought of intruders trying to kill me in my own home is more comforting than what my eyes are witnessing right now. I can’t fucking believe it. It’s gone.
The box.
Fucking Christ.
The box is fucking gone.
Well, tonight just got a hell of a lot more interesting. Now, I need to check on The Sandy Claws and make sure none of my other secrets are being exposed. It looks like my list of enemies just got longer.
* * *
I take my usual seat at The Sandy Claws, relieved that, despite it being Halloween night, the crowd is back to usual. Slow and somber, just as I like it. It’s almost bar close, so most people have already cleared out. Only a few regulars and some cliché costume-clad patrons remain.
I light a Parliament, feeling like I can finally take a deep breath and attempt to relax. Tonight, did not go as I anticipated, but fuck, was it worth it.
I still need to be filled in on how the gala went without me. I’m sure Father will chew my ear off, lecturing me for my lack of attendance, but being in Sienna’s company is worth my father’s wrath.Always.
