by Soraya Naomi
However, she lied as well; her boss, Alex, blackmailed her into obtaining incriminating information on me, yet she never told me. I discovered that she knew for two weeks that I was part of the Syndicate, another thing she hid from me, and she never confided in me that she was in trouble. Fortunately, she didn’t help Alex because she never got the chance. Alex conveniently died of a heroin overdose because no one interferes with my life.
Ultimately, one fateful night wrecked our already splintered love, and now the pieces of two broken people remain. Well, I am broken; I can only guess how she’s doing because she’s been ignoring me since I took her home last Thursday.
Adriano and I went to the garage this afternoon to make sure Damian’s and my car were fixed properly – no trace of the damage Camilla and Fallon caused when they tried to escape the house last Wednesday – and then we drove my car and Damian’s convertible back to our headquarters. After Damian picked up his car, I retrieved a few items from my private room.
“What are you doing tonight?” Adriano probes when I open the front door and greet the guard with a discreet chin lift before walking to my black Italian car in the driveway.
“I’m going home, and I was hoping you could cover for me if any urgent business comes up. I’m forwarding my calls to you.”
“Fine. Get some rest—”
A loud blast from behind jolts us forward. Heat spreads across my back, and I’m propelled through the air and land harshly as my shoulders connect with the gravel driveway and the back of my head bangs against the ground. For a moment, everything shuts down – my vision goes black and it’s silent, until I feel masses of debris dropping on top of me, prompting me to quickly roll over and cover my head with my arms.
“Adriano?!” I shout while smoke surrounds me, making me cough, and a few more pieces of wreckage fall on my legs.
He doesn’t answer, and I don’t see him as the smoke begins to fade. That worries me since he was right behind me when something inside that house detonated. As I sit up, my eyes widen when I see that the right side of the house has been blown up, and the living room is missing an entire outer wall. I look toward the perimeter for any unusual movement, and as I turn my head, I spot Adriano lying face down in the gravel near my car.
Fuck! He was thrown much farther than I was.
I leap up, which isn’t easy with every muscle in my body hurting like hell, and run to him. Flipping him over, I bring my ear close to his nose to make sure he’s breathing. Thankfully, he is! But he’s knocked out cold, and a nasty cut on his head is bleeding profusely. And my blood is also dripping on him. The stitches in my ear – from Thursday’s shooting in the Parish of the Blessed – must have ripped. Looks like we both need medical attention.
Fishing out my phone from my pocket, I call my boss, James. “We’re compromised. I need you and the doctor at the house. Now.”
“Capito.” Understood. “On my way,” James confirms.
The doctor, Marc Calderone, who’s James’s brother, arrives within twenty minutes, and we haul Adriano inside the house. He stirs and wakes up just as I brush debris off the couch, and we lay him down.
Adriano blinks and grimaces when he tries to sit up straight. “The fuck happened?”
“Lie down.” The doctor guides him back down on the couch. “Let me check your head injury.”
Adriano’s gaze shoots to mine. “Are you okay?”
I nod and walk over to where the hole has been blasted in the wall. The enormous gape in the dirty ground right by the hedge looks to be where the bomb was planted. Assessing the damage, I’m saddened to find the body of one of our organization’s prospects. I jump through the open space and stride to his remains. His body is twisted in an awkward position, and his eyes are still hauntingly open, so I crouch before him and close his eyelids before returning inside the house.
“He probably has a mild concussion, and I need to stitch his cut. Yours too.” Doc signals to my ear.
“We need to get out of this house first because I don’t know if any more devices have been planted or what part of the foundation might be damaged. Adriano, can you walk?”
Adriano stands and sways slightly, but the doctor and I steady him on each side, and we move to my car as quickly as possible.
“Get in the front, Adriano. We leave immediately.” I help him into his seat and then tell Marc, “Follow me, Doc.”
***
That evening my boss, James, and Consigliere Salvatore, the Syndicate’s counselor and lawyer, meet Adriano and me at my penthouse where the doctor has stitched us up and provided us with some pain medicine.
As we stand around my black granite-top kitchen island, I look at their weary faces.
“Any ideas who did this?” James inquires.
While twisting his gold lighter between his fingers, Adriano answers, “Leggia could’ve set this up before James killed him in the parish last Thursday? We should check with Biagio, the New York Syndicate’s new boss.”
“I’ll set up a meet with Biagio,” Consigliere Salvatore offers while sliding onto the bar stool.
James looks me in the eye. “I don’t like this. This is the first time our headquarters has been targeted. It could’ve been Leggia’s doing, but I have my doubts.”
“So do I,” I agree.
“I want you two to get some rest for a couple of days,” James orders and points to Adriano and me. “And we don’t meet in public for a couple of weeks.”
We nod in agreement and part ways. Everyone back to his own life. James will be welcomed by his wife, Alessa. Salvatore’s Julia waits for him. Adriano will be happy with a random hook-up. And I’m alone. Without her.
As much as I want to, I can’t resist reaching out, so I text and call her a few times during the weekend, but not one word from Fallon.
CHAPTER 2
Fallon
It’s funny how in an entire lifetime, there are a few moments that define your way of thinking. And how just one week can alter the entire course of a life is astonishingly sad. Those six days of constantly worrying about what would happen to me had a profound impact on my reasoning skills. Those few days changed my way of thinking because every second of the day, I was occupied with keeping the fear at bay and my mind clear. It changed my life, and it changed the course of my life with it.
All I’ve done is try to sleep, and it works for several hours, but as soon as I wake, I’m back to being confronted with my reality. And my reality is that – even though I hate to admit it – I miss Luca. I miss his arms comforting me, holding me. So many times over the weekend, I’ve almost succumbed to calling Luca back, but I couldn’t. The hurt over how for months he lied about his mafia life, which eventually led to me being held captive at the Syndicate’s headquarters for six days, is something I can’t forget.
Monday morning, I’m standing before my door, absolutely not ready to face the world, but I must go to work. Inhaling an encouraging breath, I push down the lever.
When I get outside, a rush of warm summer wind blows through my skirt. I’m wearing a floor-length summer dress with a linen jacket to help cover the cuts and bruises that are still healing on my arms and knees, and while the bruises on my face have faded and the slight discoloration that remains has been covered with foundation, I take my aviator sunglasses from my purse and put them on because I feel more confident hiding behind them. During the hurried fifteen-minute walk to work, I have the distinct feeling that someone is following me. I look around, expecting to be met with Luca’s green eyes, but everyone walks past me on the crowded sidewalk, and I don’t see anything unusual.
When I reach my building, I go through the revolving doors toward the elevators and smile at a few acquaintances.
As the elevator doors open on the floor to my office, I’m met with my colleagues and a lot of people I don’t recognize gathered in the middle of the space. I immediately make my way to Jason – who’s leaning against his desk on the right – while taking my bag off my shoulde
r and holding it in my grasp, just to have something in my hands.
“Morning, feeling better?” he asks as I stand beside him.
Jason believes I was sick at home last week. I haven’t told anyone about the kidnapping. “A little. What’s going on?” I motion to the crowd in the middle of the room just as a man in a tailored charcoal suit steps in front of us.
“I think they’re going to explain what will happen now, after Alex’s death,” he whispers, right before we move our attention to the man who’s about to speak.
“Good morning, everyone. I’m Alex’s stepbrother, Ashton Banks. Thank you all for coming to work. It’s been a shock for our family to learn about Alex’s death, and before I continue, I’d like to remind all the employees about your non-disclosure agreement in your contract which prohibits you from speaking or leaking any company information to the media,” he states in a businesslike tone.
I fleetingly scan the room and see that everyone is riveted to find out where he’s going with this. Jason grimaces slightly at me, thinking more bad news is to follow.
Ashton continues, “Unfortunately, Alex’s death means the end of Charity Events.” People start to murmur instantly, but Ashton raises his voice. “Severance packages have been set up according to your contracts. We will also offer you outplacement assistance to help you find a new job. My human resource manager, Chantal Greene, will assist you and has made appointments with each of you this morning. You can direct all of your questions to her. Furthermore, Detective Richard Wade would like to talk to several of you. Thank you for your cooperation, and please let Chantal know if you plan to attend the funeral on Wednesday as she can provide the address.” Then he steps aside to receive condolences.
I notice several police officers standing outside the door of Alex’s office, including the detective who I was supposed to call for an appointment at the precinct today. Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze for an uncomfortable moment. Detective Wade came to my house last Saturday with the news that Alex had left a note in his safe with a message about me scribbled on it. My first thought was the Syndicate. I’m positive Luca killed Alex after I revealed Alex’s blackmail scheme to him, but did Alex write that note or did Luca? I wanted to call Luca, but maybe Luca left that note to tie me to him or the case somehow?
I’m so confused.
“We’re unemployed.” Jason interrupts my stare-off with Wade.
Turning toward him, I place my bag on the desk. “This sucks. I’m not getting anything worthwhile; I haven’t even worked here for a year. How long have you worked here?”
“Year and a half. I’m not getting much more than you.” He folds his arms across his chest. “That was a cold speech.”
“It seems like he just wants to get this over with.” From the corner of my eye, I spot Detective Wade heading toward me. Since I don’t want Jason to hear our conversation, I move away from him quickly. “I’m going to check my appointments and e-mail.” And I step toward one of the private offices, pretending not to notice Wade.
“Miss Michaels.” Wade’s impatient voice rings in my ears.
Swiveling around, I greet him with a small smile. “Good morning.”
This guy’s dirty blond hair makes him look young, but I think he’s around thirty.
He holds out his hand. “Detective Richard Wade.” His colleague, a long-legged brunette, joins him. “This is Detective Kelli Ann Collopy.”
“Hi.”
“I was expecting your call, Miss Michaels.” He tilts his head to the side.
“I was going to call you this morning from work,” I explain and stop there because I don’t want to risk saying too much. I still have no idea what I’m supposed to say about the note Alex left behind stating to contact Fallon Michaels if anything happens to him.
“We can talk now.” The woman strolls into the private office and holds the door open for us to enter.
She closes it as Wade leans against the window, facing me and gestures for me to sit. “Can I call you Fallon?”
“Sure.”
“Fallon, Alex’s autopsy revealed he died of a heroin overdose. However, after finding the note he left, we must look further into this case. What exactly was your relationship with Alex?”
Heroin overdose? How did the Syndicate set that up? “Apart from the employer-employee relationship, we didn’t have one.”
“The note implies very differently,” Collopy comments from behind me.
“Maybe, but I never spoke to Alex outside of work.”
Wade’s eyes narrow, and he motions for his colleague to clear out of the room. “Fallon, what are you not telling me?” he asks after Collopy has left.
I don’t back down under his gaze, and I try to control my emotions and mask them the way I’ve seen Luca do so many times. Although obviously I’m unsuccessful since Wade asks what I’m hiding after one answer. Still, I remain quiet. I’m not being interrogated, and I won’t speak until I’m forced to.
Wade steps forward and releases a soft sigh. “Listen—” He stops abruptly, and his eyes whip from my feet back up. “Are you hurt?” His face softens because he’s seen my bruises and scratches.
I pull my skirt over my feet to hide them. “No, just some scratches.”
“How did you get them?”
“Happened when I was at the lake,” I retort.
“Okay...” He clearly doesn’t believe me but lets it go. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary about Alex the last couple of weeks?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea why he would have written that note?”
Who says he wrote that note? “No.”
“Did you have anything to do with Alex Gentry’s death, Miss Michaels?”
Back to Miss Michaels now. “No. Am I a suspect?”
“No,” he replies and paces to the door. “But you are to stay available for further questioning. And, Fallon, when you’re ready to talk, call me.” He hands me another one of his cards and locks eyes with mine as he lowers his voice. “Call me; no one else. Don’t forget.”
I frown at his conspiratorial tone and take the card. I make my way over to one of the desks where I overhear Ashton speaking to Chantal in the kitchen. “Wrap it up quickly.”
I look around to find Jason as I power on my laptop, yet I don’t see him. Then I read Chantal’s e-mail which states that if an employee doesn’t have any questions, they can choose to sign the documents immediately to terminate their contract and finalize the severance package. I print the documents and sign them before handing the papers over to Chantal. The amount of money I’m receiving will only keep me afloat for a couple of months, so I’ll need a new job as soon as possible or else I’m screwed.
After taking all my belongings, which aren’t much, I leave the office to head home.
At home, I’m back to sitting on the couch and staring at my ceiling, struggling to let everything sink in, when Danny pops into my mind. He’s my ex-boyfriend who turned out to be a hacker for the Syndicate and the catalyst for Luca arranging to meet me in that club at the beginning of this year. I can’t refrain from checking his social media profile on my phone, and my eyes instantly water at reading all the goodbye messages from his friends and family. Danny betrayed the Syndicate and paid with his life. I see that his father has posted an update about his funeral which is, apparently, taking place tomorrow. I make the snap decision to attend the service.
CHAPTER 3
Luca
On Monday, I follow Fallon to work because I crave to see her – she’s cutting me out of her life, and I hate it – and because I don’t trust her. I make sure I’m not too far behind since I want her to sense my presence, and I think she does because as she walks, she suddenly stops and glances around warily. I smile to myself as I notice that she’s finally more aware of her surroundings.
She’s stunning in her long yellow summer dress, and from this distance, I don’t see any bruising on her face. It’s as if that upsetting week nev
er happened, but I know how her confusing mind works. The moment she feels afraid again, she’ll make irresponsible decisions, and that’s why I need to keep my eye on her. At least that’s what I tell myself, however, the simple truth is that I miss her every second of the day. How can she not miss me when I feel so empty without her? Does she hate me that much?
I tail her to work and am surprised to find her walking back out through the revolving doors after not even an hour inside. Something happened at work; I can see the anxiety in her small frame. While I keep a reasonable distance, I follow her home and watch until she’s safely inside.
Then I call Damian as I get into my car. “Damian, I need you to find out what’s going on at Charity Events. And call me back as soon as you know.”
“Will do,” he confirms and hangs up as I insert the key into the ignition.
When I arrive home, I strip my clothes and pour myself a glass of whiskey to take into the bathroom. Tossing the drink back, I look at the tub I was going to fill, but it’s less appealing now as the memories of Fallon and me in that tub flow through my thoughts.
Returning to my bedroom, I sit on the bed, knowing it’s not smart for me to start drinking at ten a.m.
Fuck this. I’m tired of always thinking about her while she just ignores me.
I go to the kitchen, snatch the bottle from the counter, and stride to my terrace where I proceed to get shit-faced at ten in the morning just to get her out of my mind.
I’m done – starting tomorrow, I’m not tailing her anymore.
***
The next morning rolls around, and I wake up with a slight headache. And of course, my drunken resolve to stop following Fallon has vanished. So what do I do? I drive to her apartment just in time to see her exiting but not in the direction of her workplace.
After trailing her to the train station, I jump out of my car and race to the entrance, frantically searching for Fallon after she disappears inside. She’s buying a ticket at the counter to my right, so I wait until she moves to the platform to catch her train.
