AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“There is someone coming,” Jimmy interrupts me sharply, and I twist around to grab my rifle and look through the scope. Surprise nearly knocks my heart out of rhythm. A growl of frustration clogs my throat as I reach to grab Heather’s forearm and squeeze when I see her shift out of the corner of my eye. She pauses, eyes wide, taking a deep breath through her nose under my firm glance. “It’s gotta be the Italians to scope out the place. There is only one car.”
“Relax, I’m here,” I murmur, holding Heather’s gaze; I can feel her pulse racing from the unexpected. Setting down my rifle, I hold my finger to my lips. “Quiet, now. They’ll check the place and confirm the security. Then, the deal will go down fairly quickly. And you, Jimmy; we’re gonna have a talk about your inability to assume.”
“Aw, not the stick, Pa.” Jimmy groans as I wait for Heather to nod before releasing her arm. Peering through the scope of my rifle as Heather lays down to do the same, I follow the faint silhouette of the truck and level my breathing. I’ll think about Heather when I fuck her into a coma after this is over, but now... I have work to do.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Heather
Pulling my hair up into a bun, a delicious shiver races down my spine as Jack wraps his powerful arms around me. He kisses my cheek, and I’m gripped with a flashback of when we first met. I sling my arms around his shoulders, twisting to smile as his hands grip my hips firmly. He's hot, wearing only boxers, and heat seeps through my clothes.
“And what about this one here,” he murmurs as he reaches around me into the open box to retrieve my vibrator. My cheek twitches in surprise as fire climbs up my neck, and I snatch the thing to put it back. “Seriously, Heather. I know you’re the pampered type in bed, but it just seems impossible that you’d need help cumming.”
“You calling me lazy?” I twist sharply, and Jack grimaces even as he fights off a smirk of his own. Tilting my head back, I laugh and nod, waving away his torn expression. “I am. I don’t wanna be the one to work. I guess Mike always—well, never tried very hard at that.”
“Does it help?” Jack asks, his eyes gleaming with interest. Embarrassment makes my mouth dry, but this is a conversation we must have. I grimace as I cross my arms over my bust and rub the back of my hand over my mouth. Memories of the previous night float leisurely through my mind's eye.
Of the Italians.
The bodies at the other end of the scope mill around, tense but not too stiff. I can barely breathe. So, these are goons of the Italian Mafia, in the flesh, right in front of me. They look nothing like Robert De Niro or Al Pacino!
“What the fuck is that asshole doing here?” Jack suddenly growls next to me, and I tense. My heart leaps into my throat, and I shift my scope to the guys walking through the truck bay entrance. “Shit. Heather, don’t shoot the buyers. They’re bad fucking news.”
“Who’re they?” I whisper back, panic gnawing at my gut. So, there are even people out there that Jack’s wary of? He glances at me briefly when I look up, and I flex my hands around my rifle nervously. “Jack?”
“They’re definitely not Canadian, Boss,” Jimmy’s voice crackles through the earpiece, and I wince. “I recognize them from when I went to New York. It’s Southtown Boys.”
“On three,” Jack whispers shortly, and my heart pounds fervently. Blood drums in my ears. “Only shoot the Italians. Scatter those dirty fucking rats. Jimmy, you stay the fuck hidden in the car. Shit! Fucking— ready, Heather?”
“Heather?” Jack breaks me from my daze, and I look over at him as concern knits his brows. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Bodies are piling up around me, and I feel like I’m losing grip of myself,” I answer honestly, leaning against the dresser to hug myself tightly. Jack’s quiet, sitting on the edge of my bed to stare at me intently. “I feel like I’m an imposter in my own life, Jack. After the warehouse—shooting the Italians and you—you seemed really wary of those buyers. Why does it seem like I’m losing my past goals but aren’t making future ones? Where am I going to end up when all this is over? I can’t see my future anymore.”
“Goals, huh?” Jack echoes thoughtfully before holding out his arms for me mutely. I walk into his embrace, liking the way he snuggles into my breasts and grips my ass cheeks. But at this moment, I think of the future, and there is nothing there. Not even Jack. “So many people live a double life in some way. Whether quiet and reserved during the day to party animals at night, or a grade school teacher who occasionally assassinates people for the Irish Mafia... There are facets to everyone. No one’s two dimensional, Heather. You don’t have to completely abandon your old self for the person you’re becoming.”
“You know, for someone so damned confident, you really have no answers to any questions you fo—” A shrill ring from downstairs cuts me off, and I look up at my bedroom door. It’s so early, and I have to leave for school in ten minutes! Checking my watch, I scowl darkly when the doorbell rings insistently. “You get dressed. I have to be in my car in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Boss.” Jack drawls, and I roll my eyes as he gives my ass one last squeeze. Shoving my feet into a pair of sneakers, I grab my purse before leaving my bedroom. The doorbell rings again, and irritation flares in my nostrils. It’s not even 7:30 in the morning!
“Didn’t your mother teach you not to go knocking on people’s doors until after nine in the morning, damnit!” I say sharply in frustration as I swing open the door, and my breath hitches in shock. The blood drains from my face as I stare down a surprised FBI Agent Norman Long, and I scan him shrewdly. A cold sweat forms on my back as he leans against the door frame to conceal his injury, but I know it's there... because I shot him in the leg.
“Heather Lewis?” Long asks, and I nod dumbly as he shows off a badge. “I’m FBI Agent Long. If you’ve got some time, I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Well, I don’t have time, unfortunately,” I say, thanking God my voice doesn’t shake with nervousness. He pauses, obviously not expecting my answer. “You can come back another time.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes.” Long insists, and I grimace openly. Checking my watch, I fight to keep my breathing even. I jerk my head in a nod, stepping back to let Long into my home. He looks around curiously, and I gesture for him to follow me.
“You’ll only get a few minutes while I make some peanut butter banana on toast,” I state before we head down to the kitchen. Panic grips my stomach; the last thing I need is Jack to appear, and I want them both as physically distant as possible. Long silently follows me, and I duck into the fridge for the bread before looking at him over the door. “What’s the FBI doing here so early? You couldn’t be courteous with your time?”
I’m on the defensive. I’m talking too much. I’m accusatory.God, I hope Long just attributes it to the time of the morning.
“I’ve recently become aware of your father’s affiliation with the Irish Mafia,” Long declares smoothly, and I stiffen as his eyes narrow intently on me. Setting my bread on the counter, I cross my arms and scowl at him. “I take it you’re aware?”
"When my father died, it was revealed that he had a lot of debt, which is why I only have this house and nothing else," I gesture around with a wide arch of my arm, trying to say as little as possible while staying as close to the truth as possible. "Don't you think it'd be interesting if a man who has been dead almost three years can accumulate debt from beyond the grave?"
“According to the records of your father’s estate, he owed a lot more than was paid out on his passing,” Long reveals, and I suck in a sharp breath of surprise. Grabbing my bread, I buy myself time and put it in the toaster. Silently, I curse this man; he’s like a dog with a bone! “Have you been contacted by anyone about the state of those debts?”
“My dad’s been dead for years. If I was gonna get shaken down, it would’ve happened a long time ago, no?” I say, shuffling to the fridge to put my bread away and grab the peanut butter and a banana. Long is quiet, and in the silence, I can almost hear his brain working at speed. He’s gotta know enough to approach me, but what, exactly, does that mean for me? I struggle to keep my mouth shut.
