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I opened the box’s lid. Sure enough, my mom’s old records were in there. Jerome was saying something, but I didn’t hear him, smiling to myself as I flicked through the titles.
There was a knock at the door. If a knock could sound both angry and irritated, this one did. Adrenaline spiked through my system. Nobody should have known I was at the apartment, but when I looked through the peephole and saw who it was, my mood flattened.
“Sorry, Jerome,” I cut him off. “I’ve got to go.”
I opened the door to greet my husband.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice sharper than intended.
Connor's jaw tightened, eyes blazing as they bored into me. "I could ask you the same thing."
I folded my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling defensive. "I was looking for something. A closet got missed when Tommy ransacked the apartment." Ransacked was the appropriate term. Chairs were flipped over, the carpet peeled back, cupboard doors barely hanging on—I’d be lucky to get my deposit back.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
I scoffed. “Why would I? I haven’t seen you in days.”
His lips formed a hard line, and I could practically feel the tension radiating off him. "You should have stayed at the penthouse. It's not safe for you to be here alone."
A surge of frustration coursed through me. "Don't you think I've had enough of being cooped up in that penthouse? I need some semblance of normalcy, Connor. I can't just hide away forever."
He took a step closer, his voice low and tinged with exasperation. "Cassidy, it's not about hiding. It's about keeping you safe. There's a threat – a real one."
My eyes narrowed. " What are you talking about?"
Connor's reluctance was palpable, his gaze avoiding mine for a fleeting moment before he finally met my eyes. "Somebody broke into your apartment while we were in Maine. We're still trying to piece together who was behind it, but we’re assuming it was Moretti’s guys. We can’t take any chances."
My breath caught in my throat, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over me. Fear, anger, confusion – they all mingled together, leaving me feeling utterly overwhelmed. "Why didn't you tell me? Why keep me in the dark?"
"Because I knew you'd react exactly like this," he said. “You don’tthinkCassidy, you just act. And that’s exactly the kind of attitude that’s going to get you killed.”
“Yeah, heaven forbid you get my blood on your hands.”
When Connor didn’t say anything, I looked up at him. For a moment, I could’ve sworn I saw a shadow of regret pass over his face. Something like fear. But it couldn’t have been. Not from him.
The shadow was gone the next moment, quick enough to make me doubt whether it had been there at all. He nudged the open box on the floor with his toe. “Did you find what you needed?”
“Yes.” Connor frowned at the box’s contents as he bent to pick it up. “They’re my mom’s old records. I know you think it’s silly…I just wanted them.”
“I don’t think it’s silly, Cass,” he said quietly. An olive branch, maybe. Or, maybe, Connor was just tired of me. He moved past me with the box in his arms, and I followed him down the stairs to the street.
“How did you know I was here, anyway?”
“Remember the surveillance Tommy mentioned the day we got to the penthouse?” I couldn’t be sure, but there might have been the shadow of a smirk on his face. “It goes both ways, love.”
“Shit.”
That got a chuckle out of him. I was just about to tease him about it, but before I could, a deafening noise shattered the air. Glass shattered behind us, and a gunshot rang out.
Instinctively, Connor's arms wrapped around me, his body slamming into mine and propelling us both to the ground. Pebbles ground into my back. Tires squealed on the asphalt, and I craned my head just in time to see taillights disappear around a curve.
“Stay down.” Connor pushed my head back down, shielding me with his own body. His arms were still tightly wound around me, and his hands steady and his breathing even, but I could feel how fast his heart was thumping against my chest.
Slowly, the shock began to ebb. "Are you alright?" His voice was strained, his eyes searching my face for any sign of injury.
I nodded, unable to form words just yet. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis, and all that remained were the two of us, pressed together on a filthy Boston sidewalk.
Connor's grip on me loosened, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, still hovering protectively over me. His gaze bore into mine, a mixture of relief and something deeper – something I couldn't quite decipher. Ice grey eyes flicked down to my lips, darkening. Connor’s breath hitched. “Cass—”
