Page 3

Quinn

It was impossible to get anything out of that silver-haired, green-eyed fox of a neighbor. I followed him for blocks until he eventually got into a black-on-black SUV with taxi plates. No trail to follow. No nothing. All I have is my gut—it’s not the cartel who came after my father.

“ The cops… their trail is cold, ” Silver’s voice plagues my mind as I look up to the strange mark on the side of my house. It’s been hours of scouring the web and coming back out here to get another look.

If Silver hadn’t stared at it, I would never have noticed. At first glance, it looks like a scratch from a nail, but since I’ve been staring for about thirty minutes, I realize it’s purposefully shaded.

With a frustrated sigh, I pull out my phone and scroll to Uncle F.

He would think I’m losing my mind if I dialed him for this. I mean, look at this house… there are marks like it all over the siding. It’s old for God’s sake.

He’ll placate me and convince me to stay with him and Mara again. I can hear the tone of his voice already. Like I’m a child. Some tucked away accountant in need of protection.

The thump of my father being thrown out of his room plagues my head. I wince, wishing it away. But the reality is here. He’s gone. Maybe dead.

God, don’t think like that, Quinn.

I’m drawn to the mansion behind me. Silver has answers. He’s too well dressed to be an ex-cop, and too loose to be ex-military. Maybe he’s a bigshot with Hollywood friends. Or… maybe he’s a gangster. Why else would he be in an abandoned, immaculate movie studio house?

Looking at my phone again, I scoff and shove it into my pocket.

Tingles run up and down my legs as they carry me across the street. These tiny steps of courage send shockwaves throughout my body. Of course I froze up last night. I was trying to run before I could walk.

My boots scrunch over the snow as I bypass the street slush and make way to the heated sidewalk of my neighbor’s house.

In no way should I be doing this right now. The rookie cop on duty—Jacob, or whatever—could be texting my uncle right now. Whatever… I don’t even turn to worry about it. The allure of Silver keeps me biting my lip, while the courage to find my dad keeps me walking.

He knows something, I repeat to myself.

I get to the gate blocking another walkway up to his gorgeous white marble front door. It’s like somebody helicoptered the nicest mansion in Italy to dirty Jersey. When I wrap my mittens around the gate top, my breath hitches and I nearly fall as it swings.

It’s open? What the—

Swallowing past a lump in my throat, I carefully place the gate an inch from shutting behind me, and continue toward the haunted mansion of my mysterious neighbor.

Hair stands on the back of my neck from acting like a criminal.

Instances like this—being somewhere I shouldn’t—is paralyzing after making a thousand promises to Dad never to break the law.

What am I going to do, sit home and shiver until I’m old and ragged?

Dad needs me.

I’m finally at the front door.

I could’ve sworn a cab stopped briefly out front when I was in the kitchen earlier. If I would’ve ran to go see, Jacob would’ve been suspicious, so I just fought my twitchy nerves and decided it was true that Silver came back home.

Dnk! Dnk!

I clap the golden knocker on his door and take a step back.

Why am I fixing myself? Even as I ask the question, I bite off my mitten and run my fingers through my hair. Anything to avoid the butterflies tickling my belly.

After twenty seconds of waiting like an idiot, I convince myself that the cab that stopped earlier wasn’t for him. I haven’t heard even a flicker of noise from inside, and the glass is all fogged. I think there’s a light on in the kitchen though.

Biting my lip again, I poke the doorbell.

The slow ding dong of church bells makes me want to sprint in the other direction.

I’m overstepping. He asked me ten times to leave him alone. This isn’t like me—

I hold my breath when I think I see a flicker, but still… no noise.

“Do I need to get a restraining order?”

“ Ahh! ” I scream and hold my chest when I turn to see the enormous man behind me. “ Shit .” I’m mad at myself for being such a fool.

As I’m relearning how to breathe, I scan him up and down. There’s a shadow of a smirk on his face, but it drops immediately.

“Get the fuck off my property. This is your last warning, kid.”

I shake my head. “This house is owned by an LLC, which is owned by another LLC, which is owned by three Hollywood producers—”

“Who all owe me their lives,” he growls. “Now get the fuck out .”

“What the hell were you even doing out here?” I raise my voice to match his. Not sure what’s come over me, but I won’t cower again. Call it another overcorrection.

He points to the shed and guest house down the way, and then to the gate for me to exit. His green eyes may as well be uncut emeralds. They’re haunting, and captivating, and—

“Do I have to call the rookie myself?” he growls.

“What’s that symbol? Is it a gang? It’s just two points. I’ve been scouring Google all day,” I ignore him.

He hasn’t blinked since I’ve defied him. There’s a stone-cold stare that speaks of both intrigue and murder. A ghoul wrapped in perfect skin is about to slay me, causing my heart to beat like a thousand-pound stone as I do my best to hold his gaze.

Despite thinking I’m tough, I buckle first.

He’s terrifying.

But he wouldn’t do anything to me… I’m the captain’s daught—

He grabs my arm tight and lifts it, my shoulder scratching my cheek as he turns the knob of his front door and pushes me inside.

My teeth bare in a mix of anger and shock. “The hell—”

“ Shut it. ” He slams the door behind his back. “I don’t need your caretaker phoning in anything to his boss. He’s already seen me once because of your incessant nagging. He sees me again? I’m a suspect in your fucking case.”

“Well then, tell me something I can use so I can leave you alone.” I push him again. My first theory about him is correct – he’s a statue of muscle under that coat. He doesn’t even budge.

“I did give you something. Ruling out one of the biggest fucking crime organizations is a pretty damn good hint.”

“Yeah, well. I’m still empty.” I frown, holding his eyes.

The way his nose turns white at the tip instead of pink, and how his cheeks somehow stay tan despite the cold… he really is like one of those movie vampires. A hot Italian one, though.

He’s like twenty years older than you, Quinn. Cut it out.

“Tick tock, Silver. Any minute and my knight in blue cloth armor is going to be knocking.” I raise my eyebrows.

“Are you threatening me in my own house?” He takes a step closer and pinches my chin.

I smack him away, teeth bared. I must look like a Yorkie to him. But the anxiety in me jumbles my thoughts. I’m desperate. I have no answers and a belly full of boiling anger… at myself.

I could’ve killed those two burglars.

Dad…

“Nothing else is goddamn working.” I let my arms fall to their sides.

“I told you once, kid. I’m not getting involved.”

“Then for all I know you’re in on it,” I raise my voice.

“Yes. I’m circling the house of a police captain hours after I abduct him. Great theory. What else you got?”

My phone buzzes, so I go to lift it out of my pocket. I can’t help but feel triumphant, holding a bratty smile as I wave the phone in his face. “If I don’t pick up… someone’s going to track me down.”

What the hell am I doing?

I really am acting like a kid.

“Go ahead. You’re trespassing,” he says evenly and stomps into the kitchen.

I scoff and pick up the phone.

“Uncle F. Please say something good.” I bite my clear-coated nails.

His silence is deafening.

“Uncle F?”

“ Quinn. We have a lead. It’s nothing to start jumping up and down about yet, but one of the mechanics on Barrett Street has footage of two masked suspects changing cars from a black Suburban to a black pick-up. ”

“Did they have someone else with them?” I’m scared to death of the response.

“ Unclear. They transferred a lot of cargo on the wrong side of the camera, ” Ferraro says. “ But don’t you worry, hun. Our top guys are on it. ”

“Anything I can do?” I move onto the next nail.

“ Just stay safe. They’re still at large, and we don’t know what they want. ”

“Okay.”

“ We’ll find him, ” he repeats before the phone cuts out.

I don’t know what it is. Pure exhaustion, the hesitation in F’s voice, or the visual of my dad being carried out as cargo in a body bag, but I drop my phone and collapse to my knees, sobbing into my hands.