Page 16

SIXTEEN

KEIRA

Fallout - UNSECRET, Neoni

T he guys spent the afternoon prepping for every contingency under the sun, while I hit the gym and took the longest shower known to man. We left Stacey at the house with Cinder and explicit instructions to leave if we weren’t back by morning—another house in James’s long list of options pre-programmed in the GPS for her.

The giant blacked-out SUV feels like a target board as we drive to our target. It doesn’t matter that the glass is bulletproof, or that the undercarriage is covered in Kevlar; the air inside is thick with tension. The guys in the front seats add to the issue with their stark silence.

The possibility that if shit goes south, I’ll be handed back over to Daddy Dearest has me running through the blueprints in my head one more time. We’re entering at the back of the building, coming in through the old classroom wing that should be abandoned. From there, we’ll be able to locate the entrance to the maintenance tunnels. But that’s where it gets dicey.

My hands drift across my body, slowly taking stock of the weapons Harkin loaded me up with. My standard side carry, a backup strapped around my ankle, not to mention a few trusted blades scattered about. He double-checked that both of our trackers were emitting our location, which Stacey now also has access to, so she can keep an eye on us.

“I’m parking a few blocks over. We’ll separate and meet at the entry point,” James instructs, speaking for the first time since we left.

“I’ll be fine,” I say when I notice Harkin’s shoulders tense at the word separate. “Remember, the city is my domain. You’re the interloper here,” I remind him with a little laugh to hopefully lighten his mood.

James pulls the SUV to a stop, turning to take us in. My skin prickles with nervous energy, but there’s also something else pulling deep in my gut. I think it might be excitement. But that’d be deranged, right?

“This is your last chance to stay here. I can get in and get out. You don’t need to come.”

I won’t dignify his statement with a response. Instead, I unbuckle without a word and hop out of the car. Shoving my hands in the hoodie’s pocket, I head across the street, not checking behind me to see if the guys are also on the move. I know where I’m going, and we should get off the street as soon as possible. When I step around the next street corner, the church comes into view. The old building looks misplaced among the high rises and storefronts with advertisement posters in their windows. Its large steeple glows, adding to the city’s light pollution. But it’s nice on nights like these when, even in the dead of night, you’re never truly in the dark.

The church butts up to what I thought would be an alleyway, but instead, it’s a garden oasis of shrubs and greenery lining the path I need to take to get to the side door. Pulling my hood down to block more of my face, I stalk forward, scanning between every bush and behind every tree. I don’t know what I think I’ll find, but if something’s hiding, I’ll be prepared.

Two dark figures join me at the door, and we don’t say a word or make a sound as James tries to open the door and finds it locked. He’s quick to pull something from his inside pocket. He pokes at the lock for a few seconds before it pushes open.

His finger rests against his lips, and then he’s motioning for us to follow behind. I draw my Glock, holding it at my side in case I need to stash it quickly, should we come across a parishioner. The halls are coated in inky shadows. The only thing guiding our path is the red safety exit signs at the end of each hall. I know from the blueprints we have three halls to get down before we enter a cafeteria that houses the entrance we’re looking for.

James halts outside its doors, peering through the thin vertical window. This is where his contact mentioned seeing someone. We discussed a plan if security was still here, but based on the relaxed set of James’s shoulders, we don’t need to worry. Our shoes squeak across the linoleum, and I notice the film of dust across the tables, still laid out as if the school never expected to be shut down.

Pausing at the maintenance tunnel entrance, James glances back one last time. Harkin and I both nod, ready to rush into a possible ambush. Descending into the tunnels is like stepping into a void where the dank smells of standing water and stale air choke my lungs. The place is undoubtedly crawling with all sorts of vermin and deadly mold.

The cement floors dampen our footsteps as we approach the first turn. We’re lucky the tunnels don’t fork and seem to only run directly under the church itself. I expected to have already run into one of Domenico’s men, but there’s nothing but the pitter-patter of tiny scurrying feet. The only door we’ve come across looms a few yards ahead. There’s no guard, no light peeking through underneath, no grunts or moans of pain. It’s silent. And silence kills.

James stops, fist held up to signal the same from us. They might have agreed to let me come along, but I’m under strict orders to be last and stay close. There may have also been some threats about my recklessness, but sometimes, it’s warranted when the situation calls for it.

There’s nothing here. The room is empty, apart from a metal chair and chains hanging from the ceiling in the middle. I look at Harkin as he takes in the space. I wonder if this is what the video showed. He refused to show it to me, saying nothing would be gained from me watching what happened.

The guys lap the room while I wait by the door, keeping an eye down the corridor in case we were followed.

“I’ve got something,” Harkin whisper-shouts, bringing whatever he found back over for me to look at.

“Yeah, I’ve got something too,” James adds, but he doesn’t sound as enthused about his finding.

I keep one booted foot propped against the door, keeping the hall in my line of sight. Harkin makes it to me first with an older cheap flip phone in his palm, the small front screen still displaying the time.

That wasn’t left here on accident.

“And you?” I ask James as he reaches us.

He holds out a closed-up bandana, slowly peeling back one of the edges.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s a finger.” The edge is crusted with dried blood. But the finger itself has lost all color. It’s been here a minute.

“How astute of you,” James answers, his tone drenched in sarcasm.

I throw him an annoyed look before asking, “Do you think it’s your father’s?”

“If I had to guess, probably. I don’t see why there’d be someone else’s finger lying in wait for us when they knew we’d eventually show up. But I still think we should have it printed. James, you got that?”

“Yeah, I’ll handle it. What about?—”

A phone chime going off echoes deafeningly in the quiet cement room. The guys stare at it, pondering what to do next. I take the lead, reaching out and snatching the cell from Harkin’s still outstretched hand before flipping it open to bring it up to my ear. We hold a collective breath. I don’t offer a greeting, but the person on the other line doesn’t need the opportunity.

“Hello, my beautiful daughter. Lovely to see you’re back from your little escape to the Rockies.”

I point to my eyes and twirl my index finger around the room, letting the guys know we’re being watched. James turns on his heels, scanning for the device.

“It is home, after all. I couldn’t stay away too long,” I answer.

Harkin taps his ear like he wants to listen, but it’s been years since I’ve used a flip phone. Do they even have a speaker function? I shrug and wait for Domenico to respond. The phone is ripped out of my hand, Harkin’s finger pushing unnecessarily hard against a button in a demonstration before the voice I’ve come to despise fills the space between us.

“I was disappointed by your actions last year, Keira. I expected you to stick around for your sister.”

“Sounds like your expectations were a tad delusional. I don’t owe Alina anything, and as for her daughter, I still plan on helping her, but that doesn’t have anything to do with you. So, why don’t you tell me what you really want from me, Domenico? We both know it’s not about a big family reunion. You wouldn’t have kidnapped me or sent your men after me a second time if that were the case.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, mio cuore,” he chastises.

“Drop the shit. You know where we are. What do you want?”

“A meeting. I have a proposition for you. Bring your keeper and bodyguard. It’ll be a friendly conversation.”

“Where?” Harkin cuts in.

“Oh look, there he is. Your father says hello, by the way. I was disappointed it took you so long to make a move.”

“He’s not my priority, Domenico. A wise man like yourself should have grasped that the first time we met. Now, when and where?”

“This Friday, eight o’clock at the Pendry. Don’t be late, or I’ll let my men take something a little more vital from Mr. Greyson. Maybe his head. At least, then he won’t have to face his charges.”

The phone clicks off before either of us can respond to his threats.

“Not exactly the trap we were expecting,” I say on an exhale.

“Let’s get out of here.” Harkin turns off the phone and pockets it.

I’m sure he’s interested in seeing if there’s any information he can pull from it, but Domenico’s too smart to leave something so obvious. The three of us leave the same way we came. James tells us to split up again and meet back up at the SUV, but Harkin doesn’t leave my side. I get it. He’s on edge after that last little bit. I would be, too, if I still had a parent to care about.

The ride back to the house takes twice as long as it should, with James taking every backward route he can think of. My eyes are heavy, drooping as sleep tries to steal me away while the tires on the pavement try to lull me into a zoned-out state. Everyone’s been quiet, processing, and no doubt wondering what this magical proposal from Domenico might be.

His meeting at a public bar is likely his idea of a show of good faith. However, I wouldn’t put it past him to rent the entire space and fill it with people who work for him just to give himself an edge if it doesn’t go his way.

My mind harps on all those possibilities. Everything from Harkin taking over for his father in whatever capacity to drug running or guns. Then again, maybe I’ve watched one too many mafia movies over the years, and things aren’t like that.

Resting my head against the back window, I finally give in and let my eyes fall closed. Unfortunately, I’m not met with the sweet oblivion sleep typically brings. No, my thoughts still race a mile a minute. Just as I heave a sigh of frustration and wretch my eyes back open, the house comes into view. Thank God . We can debrief, and I can take a scalding shower to wash away the day before collapsing into bed.