Page 10

Quinn

It’s been days since I’ve heard from Silver.

I’m going mad wondering the fate of my dad, and swooning over Silver’s unexpected visit a few nights ago. Secretly, I’ve hoped for another one—where he’ll tell me Dad would be released the next morning, and then we make out while the rookie idiot waits in his car outside.

Everything’s going to work out…

I tell myself that, and yet every time I do, my heart sinks a little deeper into my belly.

Whatever. I’ve been doing busy accountant work at home for the past few days. My managers have been surprisingly accommodating since the situation, which is nice, but trying to review journal entries and tax accounts while living in this state of mind made me realize how much I dislike the work.

This was never my calling…

Spare time sends my mind wondering about my support system, or lack thereof. This whole ordeal is making me realize I want a partner in crime, or something. God, that’s corny. But is it? I need someone I can trust, dammit.

Thinking back a few years… to my second adult relationship with Jason Sawyer in college. Look, he had the best head of hair and the whitest teeth, but he missed my birthday, twice , for starters. Trying to get him to get off his ass and find a job was like pushing a rock up hill.

Lazy. He’d rather play Xbox than hang. And taking three classes a semester hardly counted for part-time anything.

The only thing he had was a set of balls to ask me out.

Some initial attraction counted for something, I guess.

But rest assured, just like everyone else, he’d fold when the tough questions were asked.

“What kind of career do you expect to have?” Dad’s voice plays in my head. “If you’re going to provide, best start now.”

Jason would say the right things back, but then go back to playing with his friends while I busted my ass for money so we can go on a nice date here and there. I mean, c’mon, if you’re going to suck, at least make a girl feel special once in a while.

As I tap away on my laptop, the bell rings.

My body goes numb for a millisecond as if it shut down and rebooted.

Silver?

No way. He’d never ring the bell.

But… he is my neighbor. So maybe he would.

I glance in the mirror to make sure my hair is decent, and do a quick scan of my face just in case, then I bolt down the stairs. Seeing my phone on the kitchen island, I’m about to check my Ring camera alert, until I see lights flashing through the glass.

Sirens again. Shit .

I swing the door open to Bill, my dad’s other closest friend.

“Quinn-bee.” He smiles sadly at me with his arms open.

He’s tougher than Uncle F by a longshot, but not with me. “Hey, Big Bill.” I accept his hug, then eye the two rookies at his heels. “What’s with the welcoming committee? Here to take me away to Ferraro’s? You know you’d have to fight me first.”

I break the embrace and put my fists up.

“I don’t have a death wish last time I checked.” He cackles lightly. “Nah. We were in the area and wanted to check up on you. Ferraro’s force doing well by you?”

Can’t help but roll my eyes. “I guess.”

About a minute into the conversation, I realize I haven’t desperately asked about my father—which must come off as bizarre. What’s even more bizarre? I know a man who might actually have him, and I’m not even thinking about saying a word.

“Can I ask you something honestly?” I grab him gently by the wrist and pull him inside, then eye the rookies with a glare that could kill, stopping them before they could take a step.

“Of course, Bee. Anything.”

I shut the door. “What kind of lead do they have on him? It’s been so long… I’m scared…”

Lying to him is painful. The truth is, I’m not scared. I’m anxious. Because deep down, I know in my gut Silver isn’t lying to me. Dad’s safe. And this is a test.

He could be watching or listening right now for all I know.

Bill places his hands softly on my shoulders and looks me dead in the eyes. “We’re doing everything we can to find your pops, Bee. He’s like a brother to me.”

My lips push to one side. “So the trail ran cold, then?”

“We have some leads,” he speaks vaguely, and I know my answer.

“Suspects?” I’m careful not to talk about the Russians or cartel anymore. Anything that could lead back to Silver or cast doubt on the abductors, won’t help my case.

“One,” he lowers his voice, “Julio Escarez. He’s a runner for some of the big boy slingers in Jersey. One of Ferraro’s guys is on the way to question him today.”

I turn away, thinking of Silver.

Here it comes again. That tidal wave of doubt. How could the entire police department be so off trail? Or is this old-time mobster puppeteering me like some sick plaything?

Screw this.

I need evidence… now .

“Show me,” I say, motioning toward Bill’s phone. “Show me something. You have digital files of the case on there, don’t you?”

“Quinn—”

“Don’t give me that tone like I’m a little kid. It’s my father! ” My frown deepens, eyes holding his.

The bags under his eyes are deep and pained. He’s been going through his own sort of hell.

Don’t be so tough on him.

His eyes become glassy, like he’s the one letting me down or something. It’s not even his case.

“The main trail went cold after the first night,” he says solemnly. “We had the wrong suspects. Now this runner is our next stop. And trust me… we won’t be going easy on ’em.”

“I know, Big.” I give him another hug. “I know.”

Inside, I’m boiling. All of a sudden, Batman Silver seems like a dick. All this commotion he’s causing because he can’t “ trust me. ” The cops don’t take me seriously either, though. This whole damn thing is a mess.

“Don’t let me keep you.” I break the embrace. “Thanks for the visit. It means a lot.”

“Course, Bee.” His frown is static.

Age really shows on him in a time of crisis. Coffee-stained teeth and wrinkles around his cheeks make it seem like the big bear has been up for weeks. Poor guy.

“Big.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go too hard on yourself.”

“I’ll rest when he’s back.” Bill goes for the door. “Sit tight, sweetheart.”

My teeth clench as the door shuts.

I’m triggered now. I’ve never been known for my patience, if I’m being honest, and Silver just tested it past my limits.

Rushing around like a madwoman, I grab my winter jacket hanging over the couch, drape a scarf around my neck, and bend for my boots by the door. Pausing for a second, I look at the lemur fuzzy socks, thinking of what Silver would say if he saw me in them.

A half-smile forms for a second, until I remember my anger.

Screw this .

After stuffing my boots on, I exit the house, making a funny face at the oblivious rookie in his car. He doesn’t even see me. That, or he’s pretending not to because he’s sick of this horrible babysitting job. The feeling’s mutual, guy.

This one is newer. I’ve seen him before, though I don’t think it was on duty here at the house. Then again, I am quite delusional these past few days on a few hours’ sleep.

Against my stubborn mood, I walk over to the window and knock on it. Better to let him know I’m leaving than have a manhunt after me when he finds out I’m not in the house.

The window rolls down.

“Yes, Ms. Dall?”

“Going for a walk. I’ll be local,” I say.

“Would you like an escort?” he replies in an almost sarcastic way.

My look back at him tells the story.

“Uh huh.” He rolls the window back up.

Maybe it’s because I’m frustrated with the whole situation, but I knock on the window again.

“Yes, Ms. Dall?”

“What’s with the ’tude, officer?”

Why I’m picking a fight when it’s a literal blessing to have someone nonchalant watching over me is beyond rationality. But here I am.

“I mean no disrespect. I’m here to protect and serve,” he speaks monotone.

I just linger there.

After a cold moment, I break the tension. “The fuck?”

His expression breaks into an annoyed frown. “I’m sorry about your father, Ms. Dall.”

“Then why the scowl? Spit it out, rookie.”

“Just didn’t expect to have to patrol an entitled brat for the next week, is all.”

My eyes widen. That’s right… now I remember where I’ve seen him before. He was that rookie, Eric’s friend, at the party. They met up right after I rejected Eric.

“What’s your name, officer?”

He sighs. “Going to report me to the lieutenant?”

I just linger there, waiting for the answer to my question. At least this prick isn’t scared of me because of my dad. It’s kind of… refreshing.

“Officer Rodney. Badge number 18823,” he says, and the regret starts to paint over his face.

So much for no fear.

“Sorry I wasn’t into your friend, Rodney. Tell him, no hard feelings.” I walk away.

I’m taking out my frustration on these cops. I should stop and direct it where it belongs – the Russians who took my dad, and the supposed rescuer who’s keeping me in the dark.

Snow scrunches under my boots as I round the corner. Once I’m halfway down the block, I make sure Rodney didn’t exit his car to tail me or something.

Nope. Just snow and slush as far as the eye can see on this block. I rush across the street and go to unlatch the gate of Silver’s odd mansion.

Krch. Krch.

I jangle the handle, but it’s locked.

Not sure why, but a river of fire activates in my core. Is he hiding my dad in plain fucking sight? Is he in there?

I walk casually away so not to raise suspicions from a neighbor looking from their window. A quick look over my shoulder shows the coast is still clear.

Maybe I can hop the gate.

It’s a little awkward since the bars are slippery and the top is curved, but I have the arm strength, I think.

Do it for Dad.

Think of him all tied up in Silver’s basement, not knowing when he’ll be released, if ever.

With gritted teeth, I grab the tip of the gate—making sure it’s not sharp—before pulling myself awkwardly over the seven-foot top. I’d be all bruised if not for the winter jacket.

Spoke too soon.

My leg just clanged into one of the bars on the way up.

Shit , that stings.

And when I toss myself over, I realize what a psycho I’m being right now. What the hell is my plan? As if someone as careful as Silver would just leave my father to be found.

Still, I have to try.

I rush toward the front door and slam on it with anger. It’s not a good sign that my footprints are the only ones in a very light snowfall. He hasn’t been here… and no one’s coming to open up this door.

Cursing under my misty breath, I spin toward the shed. It’s big and modern with its own generator. It’s not on, though. I’d hear the drone if it was.

He wouldn’t leave Dad in there… would he?

I sneak over with narrowed eyes, trying to hear any commotion from in there—muffled screaming or something. Pressing my ear against the door makes me double-down on self-awareness. I’m nuts right now.

If Rodney saw me, he’d report me to my uncle and then I’d be in deep shit.

Doesn’t matter… that jerk didn’t listen about the Russian symbol, and now I’m in this position because of him.

I click the handle, and gasp when the latch opens.

No lock on a shed? That’s effing suspicious.

Against my better judgement, I slip inside to a wooden work-table clean of any shavings. Tools are all gloved for safety. Oh, I see what’s going on here. If any of the set-designers needed to make some last-minute adjustments, they probably come here. Duh.

Well… no sign of Dad. No sign of anyone…

Boof!

The light sucks out of the room, as does all the air from my lungs when the door slams shut behind me.

Just a gust of wind.

I turn around to open the door.

“ Huu! ” I gasp again when a hand claps over my mouth.