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"He'd been weird ever since the break-in," I explain. I hate lying to Carrie, but I can't tell her the truth. That I shot and killed Liam, and worse... that Jack was right, and I'm glad he can't come back into my life to take advantage of me. That he’s a problem permanently solved. As I place a clean plate on the dish rack, my mouth dries. “On Saturday, he just exploded. Started screaming and yelling and stomping around. I woke up to find him throwing shit around and kicking his own damned self out the door without my interference. Just rolled out.”
Was it only Saturday that I’d shot Liam? Was it only the day before that I’d killed Mayor Shaw? And Jack wants me to do another job sometime next week, I assume. I sigh heavily, shaking my head of such troubling thoughts, but Carrie’s already caught on.
“Why’re you so melancholy, then?” Carrie asks, curiosity and suspicion mingling in equal measures in her voice. I look over at the phone, frowning deeply. I’m already falling into that bad habit of being too detailed with my lie. I can’t say too much, or she’ll catch on.
“Well, it’s not about Liam. I’m glad he’s gone, and he better never come back. It took me days to clean up his room,” I say before deciding to put a stop to the Liam talk. I can’t say something I won’t be able to take back. Or something that contradicts something else I’ve already said. “I met a guy.”
“The same guy that made you ditch our weekend together?” Carrie asks, but she doesn’t sound upset. A big, shit-eating grin stretches her lips when I nod, a fire climbing up my cheeks. “Yeah? What’s he like?”
“He’s— he’s amazing, but I’m also a little bit uneasy,” I admit truthfully, and Carrie hums in acknowledgment. Grabbing a dish, I stare at the ornate flower pattern on the edge before running it under the hot water. “It’s like... I’m scared of the thrill. The excitement. When I think back, my life was so bland, and I was okay with it, but now that I have met Jack, I’m yearning for more, which is scary.”
“When did this happen?” Carrie questions and I shrug lightly.
“A month, 6 weeks, maybe? It’s been very casual, but he asked me out on a date,” I reveal. Carrie grins broadly as she brings the phone to her face. “I don’t know. I really like him, and the sex is amazing, and he might be... problematic... about some stuff, but I feel like I can overlook it. The problem is, do I want to?”
“Sounds like he’s the exact opposite of what you thought you wanted for yourself. That’s not a bad thing, Heather. You should take time before your date to think about your feelings. That’s kinda the trick to them; feelings. You can’t just ignore them,” Carrie says, wisdom in her tone, and I nod as I clean my wine glasses. “I don’t think wanting more is wrong, either. With your dad being such a jerk, I don’t think it’s wrong to be safe, but sometimes, someone comes along that makes you want to risk it all. It’s okay to be scared of that after the last couple of years.”
“Mike showed up today since we’re on the topic of what I don’t want for myself,” I glance over at the phone, and surprise makes Carrie’s face long. “He said you called him and told him stuff about me.”
“Uh, no, hold it right there,” Carrie holds up a hand, seriousness hardening the lines around her mouth and eyes. I put the glass in the drain, turning to her to jut out my chin and frown. “He’s the one that called me asking about you, and I told him I hadn’t talked to you in a few days. I said I thought you were avoiding me, and I guess I know why. But I sure as shit didnottell him. I didn’t even know you had met a guy, and Idefinitelydidn’t tell him about the break-in.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. He just seemed real... I don’t wanna say aggressive, but definitely desperate. He tried to kiss me, forced his way into my house,” I shake my head as Carrie gasps, covering her mouth in horror. “I’d never seen him act like that. It was scary. I mean, after everything he did, he’s trying to come crawling back to me? How offensive.”
“I am so sorry. I didn’t think he’d take my comment and run with it. I mean, it’s not like we call each other every day,” Trailing off, Carrie giggles and shakes her head, and I smile ruefully. “Yeah, I guess we do. But anyways, I’m sorry, Heather. I shouldn’t have answered the call, but I thought since I couldn’t reach you that you had an emergency or something. People do stupid things like calling their exes.”
“I forgive you but never talk to him again. Mike is a nonperson from this moment on.” I declare, and Carrie nods firmly. Relief slithers down my spine, and I rub the back of my neck absently. Finishing the last of my dishes in silence, I turn off the tap before Carrie speaks up again.
“You look tired, but not in a bad way.” She smiles as I dry my hands and grab my phone, walking back upstairs to drop onto the sofa with a sigh.
“I am. I feel good, but not like,” I purse my lips thinly, my mouth drying. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like I’m happy, but not the boring way I used to be. Right?”
“Right, no, that makes sense. It’s good, Heather,” Carrie agrees, and I run my hand through my hair before she grimaces. “My boss is calling me. I’m in the middle of deposing a witness for Mayor Shaw’s murder for this article I’m writing. I’ll call you back?”
“You don’t have to. I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed,” I say, and we hang up before I navigate through my contacts. Jack pops into my mind again, dominating my thoughts, and I call the cell I had for my brother’s contact. The line rings and rings, and unease worms through my veins. “Hey, Frankie. It’s Heather. Listen, There is some stuff that came up with Dad. I need you to call me back as soon as you can.”
Leaving the message, I drop my phone into my lap and flop my head back to sigh. Why am I even trying to contact Frankie? He hated our father, and I don’t know where he is or if he’s still alive even. But if anyone could give me more information on what Dad was into, it was my brother.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Jack
I glance up from my computer and frown as Jimmy slips into my office quietly. His demeanor is bland compared to usual; there are always stomping feet and slamming doors when he’s around. Leaning back in my chair as he tosses a few stapled papers onto my desk, I frown. Curiosity bubbles up in my chest like a thick tar when he drops into the chair.
“Did you know Heather’s been trying to contact Frankie?” Jimmy asks accusatorily, and I nod mutely. I had suspected, of course, but Markee was the one that handled monitoring Heather’s phone. “Why’re you allowing it?”
“Because she hasn’t gotten through to him yet, and we still don’t know where he is,” I answer, and Jimmy’s expression sours. His lip curls as he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. Smirking slightly, I roll my eyes. “You don’t approve?”
“I don’t know,” he shoots back, and I arch a brow quizzically. “I wish you told me you knew so I wouldn’t have spent so much time freaking out. I did a lot the last two days. I went down to New York and dug up a bunch of shit on the Italians. I feel like you’re not interested in anything other than Heather.”
“Are you jealous?” I chuckle when Jimmy turns away from me, a faint blush on his face. Standing up, I round my desk to put a hand on his stiff shoulder before grabbing the sheath of paper he’d thrown at me. “I’m sorry you’re feeling neglected, but Heather can’t replace you, Jimmy. I don’t trust her nearly as much as I trust you, and that’s the truth.”
Jimmy’s gaze flies to mine, wide in surprise, but just as quickly, his grimace deepens. “You never would’ve said that before being around her,” Jimmy remarks, and I shrug as I gaze at the pages in front of me. “She’s changing you, and it might not be for the better, Jack. I’m telling you—you’re letting her have too much influence on you, and it’s going to end badly. You’ll end up just like your uncle if you’re not careful.”
“She makes me feel at ease,” I admit, and Jimmy clenches his jaw hard, his eyelid twitching in suspicion. “I’d like to relish this sensation for as long as it’ll last. I know you’re worried about me, but I will not make the same mistakes as my uncle. I think I deserve some respite, don’t you? Enough about her. What did you find out about the Italians?”
I change the subject, ignoring how uncomfortable Jimmy’s accusation is. Heather, changing me? Maybe it’s true, but I don’t acknowledge it. Jimmy frowns at me in disapproval before straightening, rubbing his jaw and neck, and rolling his shoulders.
“They’re making the deal Friday night in the storage warehouses by the port,” Jimmy reveals, trouble knitting his brows. The little report he’d drawn up stares back at me, and an address catches my eye. He nods when I look at him. “That’s our warehouse—well, notours, but it’s on our territory. The Italians have been dwindling the last few years, unable to change how they do business. This job is supposed to put them back on the map if they can pull it off. They’re moving almost half a ton of drugs, Boss. In one shipment.”
