Page 4
Story: Wrapped in Silver
I’m the daughter of Captain Dall. No fear,I amp myself.Have to find Dad.
Annoyed that I can feel the rookie’s eyes on me from the kitchen window, I walk down the shoveled pathway to the steps on the side of my dad’s house, shaking my head at the soundless sirens spinning to alert all the neighbors my dad was taken.
The cold air rushes up my nose, giving me instant brain freeze. My fingers tingle through the gloves. Yet… there’s an angry heat flushing through my chest and abdomen, making me unzip my coat and fan myself.
Am I having a panic attack?
I find the side stoop and settle there in hopes the anxiety passes. The cops are a few steps away, so I’ll be safe here.
Sitting outside for twenty minutes does nothing to calm my nerves.
Scrnch. Scrnch. Scrnch.
Faint footsteps resound from down the way, and the rustling of a paper bag.
My head turns to a man I’ve only glimpsed once before.
Clack. Clack.
His loafers hit the heated sidewalk alongside the gate in front of his mansion across the way.Loafers? In this weather?
My eyes scan his tailored slacks leading up to the bulge.
Bulge… in this weather?
His dress shirt under his suit jacket somehow stays perfectly tucked into his pants as he struts toward his home with groceries at 6:15 in the morning.
What kind of idiot shops at this hour?
His beard is a mix of silver and black, just enough to give my thighs a quick caress of heat, and his piercing green eyes make my heart flutter.
He’s looking at me. No… he’s looking past me.
I turn my head to the boring grey shingles of my house.
Shit. Now he knows I was looking at him.
When my head whips back, he’s lingering, slowing his footsteps like an old lion on the prowl. Now my heart skips two beats. Here comes that heart attack again.
Before I know it, he picks up his pace and starts onto the pathway of his mansion.
Dad made it a point to know all the surrounding neighbors. It’s the detective in him, I guess. And If I recall correctly—that mansion is owned by a company used for movie sets. But it’s been empty for as long as I can remember… until now.
Chapter 2
Arosso
“The old captain finally has his day,” I mutter to myself while unlocking the door to my house.
Once I’m inside, I put down my groceries and carefully remove my loafers on the center of the welcome mat so the frost doesn’t melt and swell the perfect wood floors. I have to keep this damn place pristine if I’m to stay once in a while. Fucking Hollywood and their movie sets. I’m like a nomad in a tailored suit at this point.
Ah. I’m just pissed.
I grab the grocery bag and head into the lavish wide-open kitchen with a swirling black-grey granite island. I’m on autopilot, putting food away for the week while my mind wanders about all I just saw.
Silent sirens, cops in the Dall household—can only mean one thing. Captain Patrick Dall’s reputation finally caught up to him. And I swear I saw their mark on the side of the house. Two sides of the eight-pointed Russian star. The cops would never notice—but I would.
My brow furrows as I stare at the peach in my hand, mind wandering. The young woman with an unzipped coat in the dead of winter. The captain’s daughter. Her eyes were dark from across the street, nothing that should’ve caught my attention, but there was fire in them. My mind wanders to her full lips a shade of light pink from the cold. So young…
Annoyed that I can feel the rookie’s eyes on me from the kitchen window, I walk down the shoveled pathway to the steps on the side of my dad’s house, shaking my head at the soundless sirens spinning to alert all the neighbors my dad was taken.
The cold air rushes up my nose, giving me instant brain freeze. My fingers tingle through the gloves. Yet… there’s an angry heat flushing through my chest and abdomen, making me unzip my coat and fan myself.
Am I having a panic attack?
I find the side stoop and settle there in hopes the anxiety passes. The cops are a few steps away, so I’ll be safe here.
Sitting outside for twenty minutes does nothing to calm my nerves.
Scrnch. Scrnch. Scrnch.
Faint footsteps resound from down the way, and the rustling of a paper bag.
My head turns to a man I’ve only glimpsed once before.
Clack. Clack.
His loafers hit the heated sidewalk alongside the gate in front of his mansion across the way.Loafers? In this weather?
My eyes scan his tailored slacks leading up to the bulge.
Bulge… in this weather?
His dress shirt under his suit jacket somehow stays perfectly tucked into his pants as he struts toward his home with groceries at 6:15 in the morning.
What kind of idiot shops at this hour?
His beard is a mix of silver and black, just enough to give my thighs a quick caress of heat, and his piercing green eyes make my heart flutter.
He’s looking at me. No… he’s looking past me.
I turn my head to the boring grey shingles of my house.
Shit. Now he knows I was looking at him.
When my head whips back, he’s lingering, slowing his footsteps like an old lion on the prowl. Now my heart skips two beats. Here comes that heart attack again.
Before I know it, he picks up his pace and starts onto the pathway of his mansion.
Dad made it a point to know all the surrounding neighbors. It’s the detective in him, I guess. And If I recall correctly—that mansion is owned by a company used for movie sets. But it’s been empty for as long as I can remember… until now.
Chapter 2
Arosso
“The old captain finally has his day,” I mutter to myself while unlocking the door to my house.
Once I’m inside, I put down my groceries and carefully remove my loafers on the center of the welcome mat so the frost doesn’t melt and swell the perfect wood floors. I have to keep this damn place pristine if I’m to stay once in a while. Fucking Hollywood and their movie sets. I’m like a nomad in a tailored suit at this point.
Ah. I’m just pissed.
I grab the grocery bag and head into the lavish wide-open kitchen with a swirling black-grey granite island. I’m on autopilot, putting food away for the week while my mind wanders about all I just saw.
Silent sirens, cops in the Dall household—can only mean one thing. Captain Patrick Dall’s reputation finally caught up to him. And I swear I saw their mark on the side of the house. Two sides of the eight-pointed Russian star. The cops would never notice—but I would.
My brow furrows as I stare at the peach in my hand, mind wandering. The young woman with an unzipped coat in the dead of winter. The captain’s daughter. Her eyes were dark from across the street, nothing that should’ve caught my attention, but there was fire in them. My mind wanders to her full lips a shade of light pink from the cold. So young…
Table of Contents
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