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He can’t see me because I’m hidden over here under the cover of darkness and the array of trucks around me.
Are you in trouble, Evan?
If he was I’d be the last person to risk my neck to save him. This doesn’t look like a fight, though. Still, it looks shady as fuck.
He's standing with three big Marine-looking guys and one sitting in a black sedan.
The streetlight is my only source of light so I can’t see them properly, and I can't make out what he's saying from where we are, but I recognize the tattoos they have as Russian.
They have Russian markings all over their arms, necks, and hands. All signs that those men are the kind you should have nothing to do with.
This is New York. The land of the dark and deadly, and those with blood money.
Hunter moves closer to me. “Well, damn. What could Evan be up to?” he mutters in a malicious sing-song voice. “That does not look good at all.”
“No, it really doesn’t.”
The man in the sedan, who looks like he's in charge, hands Evan a pouch and snaps at him in what sounds like Russian.
I focus on the pouch, trying to take in the outline and size. It’s not big, but big enough for my first thought to bedrugs. Fucking drugs.
Thinking on my feet, I grab my phone, find the camera and get a few quick snaps of Evan and the men.
The men get in the car and leave moments later. Evan walks away and a plan is already forming in my mind.
“What are you going to do?” Hunter asks. “Whatever's in that package can't be anything good.”
“I’m going to ask Jericho to check this out. That looked like drugs, or money. If Evan is dealing drugs or mixed up in bad shit I want to know.”
Ineedto know. Not just because that fucker tried to get me kicked off the team, but also because I don’t want him anywhere near Autumn.
This just might be my way to take Evan out of the game and out of my way.
Chapter 27
Autumn
Goosebumps cover my arms as I scroll through my article on my computer screen.
I’m at the office. It’s nearly lunchtime but as I’ve finished up all my work for the morning I thought I'd spend some time going over the first draft. I want to send it to Harvey by the end of the week. I'm ten thousand words in and so proud of every single word.
I've sectioned everything off into topics I thought would be interesting toTheChroniclereaders.
Dare I say it, my article sounds like Jennifer wrote it. Maybe that's because her teachings are coming out in me.
And I think I've healed. The other day marked the anniversary of her death. I grieved, just like I thought I would, but something inside of me felt stronger, as if a seal had formed over the pain and gave me the strength to move forward.
I always wondered if I'd ever get to that stage. I think I've reached it, and I'm taking the steps that come after.
That's probably why I'm able to write with this different sort of emotional strength. Jennifer always talked about writing with emotion. I feel like I did that in this article.
I lift my head when someone approaches the office door. When I see it's Luc I have to stop myself from running into his arms.
I wasn't expecting to see him today. He has training in a few hours.
"Hi." I beam as he walks in.
"Hey, you okay?"
