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Rafaelwasaffiliated with the mob.

But then things took another twist. As it turns out, Rafael wasn’t connected to the Belluccis, at least notintentionally. He had stake in some of the same companies and properties as the crime family, but as he pointed out, so do many businessmen.

That would be because the mob involves themselves in legal business to cover their illegal tracks.

He happened to be loosely tied with the Tucos as well, which was what seemed to piss Il Diavolo off. A tyrant like him demanded allegiance even from people who were not under his organization.

Rafael hadn’t been brought in because he was actively working with the mafia. He was brought in, because he wasn’t cooperative enough.

I had it all wrong.

Guilt pools inside me as I flag down the taxi I’ve called and step closer to the edge of the curb. The taxi came miraculously fast considering the neighborhood. Then I realize it seems to be the same taxi I had gotten in earlier. The license plate matches the car I had ridden over in.

I assumed the driver sped off, but he remained in the area the whole time.

I draw the rear passenger door open and slide inside.

“Oh… you’re someone else,” I say, startled.

The driver behind the wheel isn’t the bespectacled bald man I’d had on the ride over. A man with thick gray hair and a large nose has taken his place. He smiles at me in the rearview mirror.

“New shift,” he clarifies. “Where to?”

“5678 East Hallow Avenue, please,” I rattle off, buckling my seatbelt. “I didn’t realize my last driver was at the end of his shift. It explains why he sped off.”

The man merely chuckles but says nothing else as he pulls away from the curb and starts down the road. The warehouse slips into the background, followed by the rest of the meat-packing district.

I breathe in relief, a rush of endorphins hitting me.

I really took some dangerous chances tonight. Going to U4EA on my own was bad enough, but then I followed literal gangsters to a negotiation at a warehouse. Things could’ve gone so far left, I really could’ve been hurt… or worse, I could be dead right now.

But it was all for my story. In pursuit of the truth.

I won’t ever apologize for doing my job as an investigative reporter. Someone has to take these kinds of risks.

I decide I’ll revisit everything that’s gone down tomorrow. I’m overstimulated and exhausted as it is. My feet are aching in these heels and I’d love to strip my bra off to give my breasts some freedom. All I want to do is take a hot shower and go to bed.

Andcall Rafael.

I owe him a huge apology. I really blamed him for things that were outside his control.

My untrusting nature strikes again. I’m so wary of being hurt by a man that I always leap to the worst possible conclusion, then promptly push them away.

It’s time I move past this defense mechanism and do better. Rafael deserves a woman who will be as patient, loyal, and trusting with him as he has been with me.

My hand slips into my wristlet and I pull out my phone so I can text him. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow morning and talk about things.

We brake for a red light. I look up expecting to see familiar streets. We should be closing in on the Crosby neighborhood soon.

The street sign reads Church Street… which is on the opposite side of the city to Crosby. We’ve gone further out from where I live rather than toward it.

“Sir,” I say from the backseat, “this isn’t the right direction. You need to reroute the GPS.”

“This is a different route we’re taking.”

My brows knit. “That makes no sense. You’re driving further out from the Crosby neighborhood. You need to turn around right now.”

“That is not possible.”