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I slung my gym tote over my shoulder and lifted my chin for him to continue.
“I ran through everything. Her school record and extracurriculars looked pretty standard. There was only one thing in the whole file that stood out to me, but it could be nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Her medical records showed a broken collarbone and other contusions from the car wreck that killed her mom, but there was no real damage to her throat. A bruise from the seat belt but no physiological explanation for her loss of voice. The doc even had a note mentioning possible emotional trauma as a factor and said he recommended counseling to her father but didn’t go into more detail because she was technically an adult, and that would have been breaking confidentiality laws. I read all through the accident report, and everything seemed legit. The investigator wasn’t one of our guys, but nothing looked dodgy. Like I said, it may be nothing. Just thought I’d bring it up before I sent the file your way.”
Trauma. The crash couldn’t have been easy to process, but the woman I knew was far from traumatized. If her silence wasn’t physiological, what was the reason? Why would she go six months without a word, and why would her father accept her condition without question?
Something didn’t add up, and I was ready for an explanation.
“That’s great work, Bishop.” I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get changed and meet you in the ring.”
“Let me rough you up a little, and we’ll call it even.” He flashed a megawatt grin.
“In your dreams, asshole.” I gave him a quick jab to the gut and ducked away toward the locker room when he swung in retaliation.
My shitty day was feeling marginally better. I still needed to blow off some steam in the ring, but I wasn’t quite so bloodthirsty. My focus had turned to strategy rather than annihilation. It was time to make the caged bird sing, one way or another.
Sante stoodin the kitchen staring into an open cabinet when I came down the next morning. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear me approach until I was within reach.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, peering up at him questioningly.
He’d been staring into the cupboard that contained our coffee cup collection. Mom had been an avid coffee fanatic, addicted to an elaborate cappuccino routine she followed each morning religiously. In the summers when I wasn’t in school, I spent every morning in the kitchen with her, sharing her routine. Once she was gone, I couldn’t bear to have coffee at home without her. That’s why I’d first started my ritual coffee outings. I needed the caffeine fix, but without the side of heartache.
“It’s strange. Sometimes I almost forget she’s gone. I started to get out a mug for her like I was going to start the cappuccino machine, then realized what I was doing. It was muscle memory. Like my body had somehow forgotten.” He closed the door and looked down at me, his sweet brown eyes unguarded and rife with pain.
I knew how he felt. And I knew that no words would fix it, so I wrapped my arms around his middle and held him close.
God, I loved him so much. I couldn’t bear to lose him, too.
“Thanks, little big,” he said softly.
When I pulled away, I grabbed my notepad.Want to come get coffee with me?
His lips thinned. “You know Dad doesn’t like us to go out together.” Every word was wrought with inner conflict. Maybe this was my chance to help him see reason.
You know that’s absurd, right?
“He explained it to me, so I kind of get it. After losing Mom, he doesn’t want to chance us being out together and something happening to both of us at the same time. He’d be totally alone.” And that was why I adored this poor sweet boy. No matter how desperately he wanted to be a part of the Lucciano crime family and impress our father, his heart was made of pure gold. It made him seem naïve, but that innocence was derived from a purity I never wanted to see tarnished.
I nodded, wishing I could steal him away without harming that kind heart of his.
Thirty minutes later, I was seated at my coffee shop sipping a steaming cappuccino but hardly tasting it. I was still no closer to figuring out how to save my brother, and when I’d parted from Conner the day before, he’d been livid. I didn’t know what to do about any of it. A part of me insisted I needed to be patient, while another part screamed that I was running out of time.
Two weeks, and I’d be married.
I’d be out from under my father’s control but have less access to Sante than I already had. And while Conner would likely give me more physical freedom, I feared he had the potential to steal my heart and leave me even more vulnerable. No matter how I looked at my situation, it felt hopeless.
I was wallowing in such a state of melancholy that I was caught off guard as I left the restroom and was yanked from behind out the back door and into the alley. A rough hand covered my mouth, my heart sinking deep into my stomach as my body broke out in a sticky coating of fear.
“Shhh, calm down. It’s me.”
Conner? What the hell was he doing?
I stopped fighting his hold, my ragged breaths quickly becoming the only sound in the stillness around us. When the familiar scent of his spiced aftershave filled my lungs, I relaxed further into his hold.
Once he sensed my panic subside, he lowered his hand and turned me to face him. His harshly angled brow cast his gaze in shades of midnight and ruthless determination.
