Inferno (A Harmony Love Story)

by Angela Graham

  He pressed a short kiss to the top of my head. “I love you, girly.”

  “And as far as Mom goes,” I added quickly, “that’s your business, not mine. I’m sorry about my temper tantrum downstairs. I’ll respect what you decide.”

  His eyes widened. “Well damn, looks like I raised my baby girl into an understanding woman after all.”

  A stray tear fell, but I wiped it away quickly. “Yeah, yeah. I have my moments.”

  We sat a while longer, reminiscing and laughing about all the silly stuff I did growing up, and when I left that night, I felt as though my soul had calmed. I never brought up Caleb, or pestered my dad for the details he’d heard about the previous night. None of that mattered.

  Life was cruel at times, but I also believed that everything happened for a reason.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Monday morning was spent with my students in a far better mood then myself, but I was grateful for the cheery-yet-sometimes-challenging distraction. I spent lunch in my classroom, catching up on next month’s lesson plan with my phone tucked in my desk drawer, desperately trying not to check it. I hadn’t heard from Caleb despite sending him a text when I woke: a simple “Hi” that had gone unanswered.

  I wasn’t sure what I expected or why I’d even sent it. All I knew for sure was that I missed him. And as much as I wanted to reach out and shake him a few times to find out what the hell his problem really was, I knew I couldn’t—or, more so, that I shouldn’t. He was in the wrong. I didn’t deserve the tongue lashing I’d received, which was why I continued typing up math plans, my headphones blaring the Rolling Stones.

  I left school shortly after four, eager to head over to the apartment complex I’d applied to since I hadn’t heard back. I called Rafe on the way over, resigned to the fact that I couldn’t accept the money and needed to return it as soon as possible.

  “You’ve reached Rafe Hardwick. I’m not in right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon.”

  I turned down Main Street, rolling my eyes at his cheesy voicemail tone, way too friendly to be genuine.

  “Hey, it’s Hilary. Thanks for the offer, but I really can’t accept,” I said. “How should I return the thing you left on my counter? Text me to let me know.”

  I hung up and was turning down a small alley to take a shortcut to the apartment complex when I noticed a black SUV. It had been traveling behind me since I’d left school. I’d also seen it the previous night when I was home, parked not far from my spot. It wasn’t trailing close, but it obviously stood out, seeing as it was much nicer than what most people in town drove.

  I took a sharp left when I reached the first cross section, then another, with the SUV following every step of the way. Did Rafe sic some scumbag on me to track his cash, afraid I wouldn’t return it?

  I slowed to a stop at the next light, one block from the apartment complex, and was staring out my rearview mirror when the SUV turned leisurely into the hardware-store lot not far behind me. Rows of trees and parked cars blocked my view of the driver; I couldn’t even tell if they’d stepped out.

  The shrill blare of a horn startled me, lurching my body upward. I nearly banged my head on the car ceiling.

  “Damn it!” I rubbed my temple, catching my breath. The light was green and my hands were trembling, nerves off the chart. I was a mess, paranoid and stupid. I waved my hand up apologetically to the impatient jerk behind me, then sped up.

  I made it to the complex, my next possible home, feeling renewed as I strode up the walkway. There was a moving truck in the lot with a woman about my age carrying in boxes. That could be me—fresh start, I told myself.

  But I was leaving less than 10 minutes later, on the brink of tears. They’d explained how I didn’t qualify without a cosigner on the lease or double the deposit. When the hell would I catch a break?

  I was left with only two options: stay in Rafe’s apartment complex (which wasn’t about to happen) or ask my dad to cosign, which hurt even more considering his house situation. Or…

  I dialed a number from my past and was grateful when my call was answered on the second ring.

  “Oh my God, Hilary, that you?” Kayla’s cheery voice lifted my spirits.

  I smiled, climbing into my car. “Yeah, hey. How’ve you been?”

  “Good, just busy. Congratulations—I heard you graduated! You really a teacher now?”

  “Sure am. So, um…” I took a deep breath, unsure how to broach a subject that made me feel nothing but shame. “What about you—what are you up to these days? Still working the underground games?”

  Kayla had been a waitress with me at the exclusive and illegal poker games they held all around the city, about an hour outside of Harmony. It was easy money, but it took excessive flirting and a constant adherence to the golden house rule: the skimpier the outfits, the bigger the tips.

  “Nah, I wish. Game was raided about a month ago. Heard it was a setup by some goons who didn’t like our boss.”

  “Really?” I sounded as surprised as I felt. Those games were ancient.

  Kayla grunted in affirmation. “Who knows? There’s no such thing as job security when it’s against the law. Why, you looking for work?”

  I lowered my head. “Yeah. Just part time, like weekends only, for some extra cash. Know anything open?”

  “Sorry, sweetie, but I’ll keep an eye out. There’s rumors of another game going on. I just have yet to connect with the right person to get me in. As soon as I do, I’ll call you.”

  “Thanks,” I told her, promising to keep in contact before hanging up the phone. Returning to that life was a risk, but a few weeks of tips would help raise the extra money I needed for the deposit.

  With no ideas left and in need of at least $800 more to secure the apartment, I began wondering just how bad it would be if I accepted Rafe’s offer. It was like a dangling treat.

  “No!” I banged my fist on the steering wheel and pulled out of the lot, heading for the second apartment complex in town. The place—the one Caleb and I had spoken of—was out of my budget as well, but maybe they had a move-in special or something. I couldn’t just go sulk at home. I needed to keep trying.

  And that trying led nowhere. After three minutes with the office manager, going over rates, I knew it would be a waste of time even filling out the application.

  I shoved open the office door in a huff, rushing down the corridor and wanting nothing more than to rewind the past week.

  I heard Luke before spotting him. “Hilary? You all right?”

  My emotions were on the brink, so I hurried my steps, desperate to reach my car before he could stop and see the mess I was.

  “Hey, slow down!” Luke snared my shoulders, halting me, and swung me around to face him. “What, you pissed at me or something?”

  My shoulders fell. “No, sorry, just having a bad day.”

  “Fair enough. Want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  He took in my appearance slowly, my expression cast down at the pavement.

  “All right, how about a drink then?”

  “No, I—”

  He was already dragging me down the corridor and up a flight of stairs. “Come on, I insist. Plus you can see my new place.” Luke opened his door with palpable pride, holding out his arm for me to enter. “You’ll be my first official guest that hasn’t stopped by out of obligation.”

  I offered a weak but thankful smile for his kindness. The place was nice, new construction with high ceilings and large windows. The only furniture was a sleek black futon in the living room, across from the television.

  “You might want to start a shopping list to make it a little more comfortable,” I said with a small chuckle.

  “Ah.” He waved off the comment. “Men don’t care as much about all that crap. As long as I have a couch, bed, and TV, I’m good.”

  “Right,” I said. “I can’t imagine Caleb living this simply.”

  I
smacked my lips shut the moment the last syllable passed, grumbling a second later, “Never mind.”

  Luke’s mouth twisted into a sympathetic frown. “He has different taste, sure, but he also has more money.”

  I nodded, pointing at the poster of the Beatles on his wall. “At least you have art,” I said, taking a seat on the futon.

  Luke sat on the opposite end. “You talk to Caleb lately?”

  I shook my head, unsure what all he knew.

  “He’s been a little pissy this week. I’m sure you noticed.”

  With a simple shrug, I gnawed on my bottom lip.

  “I asked him about you. He said I was right. Even apologized for messing around with you.”

  My entire body stung, my heart breaking as I fought for control of my facial muscles. I wouldn’t lose my shit on Luke’s new futon.

  “You know I only wanted him to steer clear of you because we’ve been friends for so long. Didn’t want him to play you and then you hate me.”

  “Guess you were right,” I croaked, barely holding on.

  His expression soured. “No, I wasn’t. You were good for him. Over the last few weeks, I’ve witnessed my brother genuinely happy. Hilary, I know he has a temper and I know something happened between you two because he refuses to discuss you anymore, but whatever it is, you need to talk to him.”

  “I’ve tried,” I confessed.

  “Try harder then. He needs you.”

  Insulted and hurt, I reared back, brows puckered. “Well I needed him, and he shit all over that. And for your information, I’ve tried reaching out. He’s obviously done, so don’t tell me that I need to fix this.”

  With a frustrated sigh, Luke ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s just…last Saturday, he was down at the station and—”

  “I heard they ran his name and found a record. Not sure why it happened, but I had nothing to do with that.”

  His brows drew together. “Why would I think you did? That was all my father. He went down to the station when he found out Caleb was there—he assumed he was in trouble. One of his deputy buddies ran it, and Felicia found out. She told Caleb she knew what was in it but destroyed the printout. Still, it was too late.”

  “Why would your father go down there? I thought Caleb just went down to give a statement about Kurt.”

  “He did, but a deputy got the wrong idea and called my dad.”

  “And Caleb told you all this?” That was hard to believe.

  Luke stood, walking to the fridge and retrieving a beer and bottled water. “No. I was with my dad, working late, when he got the call.”

  “So what happened? Did they get into it?” That would explain some of his anger Saturday night—not that I was okay being his or anyone else’s punching bag for any reason.

  Luke handed me the bottled water and I shot him a look. I could definitely use the beer, but adding alcohol to my day and then driving home probably wasn’t the best idea.

  “Felicia all but kicked them out of the station, so they went out back, and I might have followed.” He made a face that said his eavesdropping wasn’t something he was proud of. “My brother’s made some bad decisions, but he still showed the old man some respect. Caleb took all the shit he threw at him: the accusations, threats, everything. Caleb just stood there, never once disagreeing with a few things I was hoping he would.”

  “Like what?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Like what my dad saw in the report.”

  I sat up, ears perked as he continued.

  “Mostly misdemeanor arrests—no jail time served, or my dad would’ve called that out. Gun possession was one that really pissed my father off, and Caleb was apparently a person of interest in a few cases. Plus—”

  “Plus!?”

  “My dad was yelling about the Irish cartel. Apparently, somewhere in his record, it indicated Caleb was linked with them. I’m not sure how,” he added quickly, “but my dad went crazy about it, calling Caleb reckless and, as he put it, a ‘dumbass heading for an early grave.’”

  “Cartel?” I gasped. “As in a gang? But wait…” My hands worked animatedly. “Caleb said he never dealt with drugs. Isn’t that what cartels are usually into?”

  “No fuckin’ clue.” He threw up a hand and took a big swig of beer.

  “Oh my God. Have you seen him with any…gang-looking guys?”

  Luke laughed so hard he nearly spit out his beer, coughing until he choked it down. “’Gang-looking guys’?” His shoulders shook with laughter. “That the description you’re sticking with? Want me to ask around?”

  “Shut up.” I punched his arm. “I mean guys that look shady, or…mafia-like.”

  Luke finished off the bottle and stood. “Look, you know as much as I do now. But Caleb said one thing to my father before he walked away that I think you should know.”

  “What?”

  “He told him he was done with that life, for good.”

  Was that his way of confessing? Holy shit, Caleb was involved with a cartel? Besides the movies, I didn’t know anything about them. Were they like the Sopranos? Because deep down—way deep, past all his murdering and cheating ways—Tony had seemed like he had a gentle soul and loved his family.

  What am I doing? Caleb maybe being linked to a gang was far different from “might be a gang leader.” I needed to slow down.

  “I have to go,” I said, standing abruptly.

  Luke grabbed a second beer. “Hey, don’t mention this to Caleb, all right? I finally have my brother back. Whatever he did before, I don’t care.”

  “Sure,” I replied, opening the door.

  “And as far as you and him, just cut him a little slack, will ya?”

  With nothing but sincerity, I replied, “I’ll cut him as much as he cuts me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The rest of the week was nothing but a depressing blur. I’d spent hours googling every bit of information I could find on the Irish cartel, and as it turns out, it wasn’t all about drugs. They also ran guns, laundered money, and had no problem making people disappear—pretty much everything you’d see in a clichéd action flick. Except this was real life, and the bad guys on my computer screen were a whole lot scarier looking.

  Asking Caleb about this new information didn’t seem smart, especially since we weren’t on speaking terms, so it probably wasn’t the best ice breaker for us. And I knew Felicia would give me an earful about staying away from Caleb if she thought he was dangerous. So I did everything I could to put it out of my mind, including packing the rest of my apartment.

  I wasn’t sure what to believe, and refused to put Caleb in the category of thug or gangster. He was a good man—I’d seen it many times—but he also had something dark in his past that he obviously didn’t like to discuss, not to mention that he’d mysteriously made a lot of money over a few short years. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but the longer he stayed clear of me, the harder that was to do.

  The only good news I heard that week was from Cassandra. Caleb had invited her to lunch at Haven to apologize about the Kurt incident, and apparently they’d had a great time. She explained how she didn’t blame him, and went on about how she’d forgotten how funny Caleb could be.

  The longer I listened, the deeper my heart sank. They were all good and she made it seem like he was normal Caleb, so why hadn’t he been considerate enough to at least reply to my text?

  My jealousy was off the charts. I couldn’t tell her how Caleb had chewed me out and ignored me since, and luckily she didn’t ask. Instead, I posed the questions, eager to find out how she and Logan were navigating the new boundaries of friendship. Cassandra seemed happy, which would usually make me so as well, but my mind was too preoccupied to really listen.

  The SUV continued to appear, mostly in the evenings. Only once did I get a glimpse inside. It wasn’t up close, but I could tell there was a man driving—a bulky one at that, dressed in dark colors.

  On Friday night, drunk, alone,
and holed up in my place, I had a regretful moment of weakness.

  Me, 10:48 p.m.: Wish I could understand what happened. I miss you.

  My finger hovered over the send button for a few seconds as I debated whether to hit it. Delete, delete, I chanted in my head. Make him come to you. Instead, I closed my eyes and pressed the button, instantly hating myself.

  The weekend passed without me stepping outside; my new best friends were takeout, alcohol, and binge-watching Netflix. It also passed without a single response from Caleb.

  By the time I drove home Monday after school, pulling into my parking lot, I noticed it: the black SUV turning off onto a street right before my place. Coincidence or extreme paranoia?

  “Relax,” I told myself as my phone pinged.

  Hope filled my thoughts. It wasn’t Caleb’s name, however, but one that deepened my frown.

  Rafe, 4:16 p.m.: Friday night, we fly out. Please reconsider.

  I scrolled back to the unanswered text I’d sent Caleb, and a surge of anger grabbed hold. It was obvious he’d moved on, but the fact that he was ignoring me shoved me over the edge. Fuck him and everyone else. I needed to take care of myself, and as much as I knew it wasn’t right, I also knew it would be the last time.

  “One last job,” I said aloud as I texted the words to Rafe.

  Rafe, 4:18 p.m.: Great. I’ll let Max know and email you the flight details tonight. I’m going down there early, so I’ll have a car waiting when you arrive. Thanks again, Hilary.

  What the fuck was I doing? I dropped the phone onto my lap. One last weekend and I’d come back and pay the increased deposit, move into my new apartment, and focus on teaching and spending time with my father. That was all that mattered—or so I thought.

  Thursday after school, I drove past Haven, which was something I’d been doing the last couple of days. Caleb’s Jeep was always parked in the same spot. I craved him something fierce, and hoped to get the chance to see him every time I passed. But today was not the image I’d been hoping for.