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Everything in her world changed the day her family was murdered. All the people she is following are tied to districts and high-priority positions. Her reaction to my name is even more telling. I can’t help but wonder if her father stumbled upon something at work he shouldn’t have.
Sitting down on a bench in the gym’s locker room, I pull out my laptop. I start researching her father. Then it hits me. He once worked for my father. Hell, they came to a party my parents hosted once, years ago.
My stomach churns and my mind dances with more questions than answers. My father is a ruthless man in business and in life. There is no doubt in my mind he would kill anyone who went against him.
The question is, what did Mr. Bosch do that wronged my father?
The more I dig, the less I seem to figure out.
Needing to take my aggression out on someone, I call Brock to meet me at the gym. It doesn’t take long before he arrives, and we get to work.
“You need a fight with Caldwell,” Brock goads me as we warm up.
That’s for sure. The bastard could meet me hit for hit.
“He’s done.”
“Shit, do you blame him? If you had a hot piece like mouse at home, you’d consider your risks a little more carefully, too.”
I smirk. “Damn straight I would.”
“Wanna tell me what’s up with the black Impala I had to drop off for you?”
“Nothing to tell.” I try to avoid the conversation.
“Bullshit, fucker.” He knows me too well.
“I don’t have enough answers right now.” Which is the truth.
I don’t have enough information to explain what is going on with me and Lo. I will, though. Mark my words, I will figure her out and figure us out. This is far from over. In fact, it’s just beginning.
Chapter Fifteen
When he leaves, I take a deep breath and look around the condo. It’s large and very wide open. I take comfort in being able to overlook nearly every area from where I stand in the foyer. There are no curtains covering the wall of windows overlooking the city, so I don’t have the fear that someone is hiding behind them.
Curtains. Who in their right mind has to make the decision whether curtains could be a life or death choice when considering the décor of a home?
Someone like me.
Jason thinks he is dangerous and damaged.
I am, too. I am damaged and I am determined to be dangerous to those who killed my family.
I walk to the window and place my hand on the cool glass, still not heated from the afternoon sun. I look at the balcony where two plastic chairs and a large barbecue grill sit. I wonder why it’s so scarcely decorated. After all, there was a woman who lived here.
I would love to sit outside and read or sunbathe or listen to music. Heidi and I used to do those things. We were carefree, not a worry in the world. We were two lives, conceived together, born minutes apart, and nearly inseparable. We had a language of our own as children. No one but she and I knew what we were saying, not even our parents, for the most part.
It was always Hi and Lo, never Lo and Hi. She was the courageous one, the sassy one. Heidi was the one who could stand alone socially, the one who looked anyone she came in contact with in the eye and smiled.
I remember when she dyed her hair black so that maybe we could have more independence from one another. Shortly after that, she started dating Ryan and hanging out with some of his friends. I loved to watch her shine, and honestly, as upsetting as it was at first, I started to enjoy not being called Heidi.
I remember the night she and Ryan had their first lovers’ quarrel. She begged me to dye my hair with her. She even brought home the box of color. She said she’d hoped I would try like she was to stand out, and then she finally realized how silly it was. She said she missed us being just alike, and in the state she was in, I agreed to become the same.
For a week, it was Hi and Lo again. For a week, she avoided Ryan’s calls. She never would tell me exactly what happened between them. Then, out of the blue, they were back together again, and she was happy.
I got a job and ended up loving the independence. Having work friends, people outside of the tight little circle Hi and I kept, wasn’t as frightening as I had thought it would be.
And then, within weeks, she was gone forever.
Heidi, oh, how I miss her.
I press my face against the glass to soothe the burn preempted by tears. I will not let anything stop me from finding out who tore us apart, who killed the other half of my soul and the two people whose love made us.
