Chapter 12
THE PICTURES SHOWED a different side of my father, one I had been completely unaware of. Seeing it firsthand was something I could have gone my whole life without viewing. But why? Why would he kill him? More importantly at the moment, why had someone wanted me to see this now? The trial had been over for years. He had been found not guilty.
All those months ago, I had been sitting in the plush chair at my desk after just getting off the phone with Jag. A smile so big it made my cheeks hurt had been plastered on my face. My stupid heart had done that sputter thing you only hear about in the movies, and I had felt foolish for it.
Our phone conversations had become intriguing, and I had learned more about him each time. From the mundane like his favorite color—black—to the time he went fishing with his father. It had been so strange not having sex involved and simply talking, getting to know one another. Seeing the person inside. It had been like cutting that part out had forced us to get to know each other. Honestly, I had thoroughly enjoyed it.
His promises of coming back soon had still been ever present. I hadn’t been sure if he was trying to reassure me or himself at that point, but they had started to lose their luster, chipping away at my heart. I had still hoped, though. Lord knew, I’d had enough work to keep me busy and keep my brain off him, at least for short periods of time.
Looking at my desk, I sighed at the mountains of paperwork cluttering the top. Files, papers, charts, and graphs were all mixed together, not making any sense. Normally, I kept a very organized desk, but lately, it seemed to get away from me, and everything had gotten tossed around.
I picked up paper after paper and file after file, placing everything in its appropriate spot, seeing a slight improvement.
A nine by eleven manila envelope sat buried under some matching colored folders, and I picked it up then turned it around in my hand. No writing or description was on the outside. Wondering what file to place it in, I opened it, quickly flipping up the flap and reaching in. The papers inside were thicker than normal paper, though slick to the touch. I gripped them tightly and pulled them out of the envelope with one strong tug.
The images before me stole my breath. In my hands, I held decades old black and white photos of my father slitting the throat of Geovini Maratelli. I gasped, jumping up from my chair. I threw the pictures down on the desk as if they were poison, about to suck the life out of me. In a way, they were. As much as I didn’t want to look at them, I couldn’t help taking in the features of both men.
I knew it was Geovini instantly. I had seen plenty of pictures of him growing up, and his dark hair and dark eyes were unmistakable. In the pictures, his eyes were pained, as if he was feeling betrayed. My father’s face was filled with anger and menace, but behind that was sadness and grief. Why would he have done this?
Dad had been on trial for Geo’s murder and was set free. Why would someone want me to see these after all that time?
I quickly picked up the envelope and reached in, feeling around for some type of note or something, panic enveloping me. I needed something, anything to tell me who had sent these and what they wanted.
I peeked in the envelope, hoping I really felt something. I pulled out a small piece of paper, my eyes drifting repeatedly over the words.
Your father murdered Geovini. Stay away from Jag, or this all comes out, and your family dies. Tell anyone of this, and the death will be painful. What would Jag think?
My heart clenched, and I couldn’t breathe. It was like a python had crawled up my body, wrapped itself around me, and squeezed the ever-loving shit out of me.
That night, I hadn’t slept, couldn’t think. Every thought had revolved around the effects those pictures would have if they got out. The words written on the paper gutted me in a way I didn’t know anything could, as did the thought of how they would affect my dad, mom, brothers, Uncle Vino, Kiera … Most of all, Jag.
I felt considerable guilt over Jag. What would he think? My father had killed his. How could I ever get past that and talk to Jag without guilt? If he ever came back, how could I look him in the eyes? How could I smile up at him and know the pain my father had caused him? And, if he found out, how would he ever get past it?
Why threaten my family through me and tell me not to say a word? It didn’t make sense.
Idiot that I was, I had kept the secret inside for the past three months, and it was draining me.
Every damn time I had gotten the resolve to say something to one of them, a new note would come. A new warning. Each written in the same writing as before, each one terrifying me into submission. It was as if whoever was behind them was watching me, waiting for me to tell so he could wipe out everyone I loved, and I couldn’t let that happen.
That was where all of my anger came from—the feeling of helplessness. I had googled everything I could think of that dealt with the murder of Geo. True, he had died from a knife to his throat. True, dad’s trial had ended up being a mistrial, and nothing more had been said. True, the crime scene had been compromised. That was all documented. Regardless, what I wanted to see was the undocumented.
I searched for the officers who had been on duty that night and the ones who had investigated. Nothing came up with their names. It was like they had disappeared from the planet without a ‘good-bye’ or even a ‘kiss my ass’. The only options I could think of were they were in witness protection or dead.
The prosecutor in the case had ended up in jail from drug charges. Being so cutthroat had made him a lot of enemies. Before the cops could get him some inside protection, he had been murdered by inmates. Everything I had found was public record, available to all. If it were true or not, I would never know.
I couldn’t find any answers, and the only one I wanted was who had sent this to me and why?
I hired a private investigator, Rusty. He only worked for me and didn’t answer to any of my family. I kept him under radar, only taking his calls on a track phone I had bought on a Target run since I didn’t know if whoever was watching me had tapped my phone.
Rusty had a couple of leads, but they had fallen flat. He was still looking, but I wasn’t holding out much hope at that point.
I had even tapped into our security system at home and searched the grounds, looking for anyone suspicious, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. I was quickly running out of options.
An even more colossal dilemma was believing the pictures. Had my dad really done that? He had told me that he hadn’t all those years back during his trial, and I had believed him. I had trusted him to tell me the truth. Trust was all we really had. If that was broken, I wasn’t sure how I could handle it.
I was at an impasse and didn’t know what to do, but there had to be something. The weight of this was too much to bear. I needed to tell my family, but fear gripped me that they would all pay for that decision. I couldn’t risk it, but God, I wanted some help. This burden was eating me alive. Beating myself up at work, killing myself at the gym, slamming and breaking innocent cabinets—something had to give.
I gathered up the pictures and notes, sliding them into the file that was in nowhere near the pristine condition I had gotten it in. By that point, it had creases from my grip tightening on it and pen marks from loose pens rolling around in the drawer. The flap on the outside was crumbled and worn. It didn’t matter what the outside looked like, only that the inside could destroy everything.
Slipping the envelope into the drawer, I locked it and pocketed the key.
Tomorrow was my birthday, and as much as I didn’t want it, I knew my family would all be stopping by at some point to tell me happy birthday, but I wasn’t happy. I didn’t think at that point I would ever be happy again.
***
“Happy Birthday!” Kiera screamed for the thousandth time that day as she came up behind me in the kitchen, making me gasp and jump.
Tension already laced my body from the amount of well wishes and hugs I had gotten from family and co-workers. Even my dad had come by the office, and he had immediately questioned the tension in my body when he had hugged me. He had been really good when around other family by not asking, but he had today.
I had smoothed it over by saying it was work. I really didn’t think he had bought it, but he had let it go. Inside, I had wanted to scream at him, ask him if he’d done such a terrible thing and why. Ask him why someone was sending this to me, targeting me. However, I had done nothing of the sort. I had kept my mouth shut, and each time I did, I kicked myself in the ass later. I was smarter than that. Why was the fear so gripping that I couldn’t tell? Because I didn’t know who it was, and I had no idea if they would follow through.
“Shit, woman, you scared me.” I turned around to a perfectly made up Kiera, and her deep brown eyes laughed back at me like she was happy with herself for catching me off guard.
“That was the point. Is that what you’re wearing?” She eyed me up and down, her brown eyes gauging me.
I looked down at my body, noting the jeans and long-sleeved purple shirt with frills on it. I didn’t think I looked bad. “What’s wrong with it?”
“No way. Let’s go.” She grabbed my arm and led me to my bedroom, not that I protested since I really didn’t care.
She pushed me onto the small bench that sat in the closet. I looked around at all the designer clothes and the top-of-the-line business suits. None of it mattered. It was all stuff. My family was what mattered, keeping them all safe.
I hung my head for a second then quickly pulled it back up, not wanting Kiera to notice.
Kiera rambled on about my closet and how I needed to organize it by color, not paying any attention to my inner conflict. I ignored her words, waiting for her to pick out something so we could get this night over with.
“This!” she said way too happily. The smile on her face was so big it had to hurt her damn cheeks.
I smiled back, but mine was nowhere near her caliber.
“Stop it. It’s your birthday, and you are having fun. Snap out of this mood now!” She waved a black skirt that was probably way too short for my curves and a sapphire top that would wrap around my boobs, holding them up nicely.
I didn’t argue, only grabbed the clothes and changed right in front of her. I couldn’t hide my grumpiness. It was like a black veil draping over me, sucking every bit of life out of me. I couldn’t escape it, and I didn’t like this lack of control creeping up inside of me.
Pulling the skirt up, I groaned as it left nothing to the imagination. If I were on the prowl for some dick it would have been perfect, but I wasn’t. I had too much on my plate to worry about stupid orgasms.
I threw on the shirt, slipping my arms in the slots then tying it around my body. I used to love this shirt because Jag said it brought out the blue in my eyes. I even wore it a few times when we Skyped back and forth. Now, it was only a sad reminder of him and what could have been.
A low whistle came from my side. “Looking hot!” Kiera exclaimed, clapping her hands and jumping up and down like a school kid. This was going to be a long night.
***
After the car pulled up to some club, Scraper held the door open, nodding to us as we exited. Kiera latched her arm around mine and strutted to the front doors. She must not have seen the line that was stretched around the building, or if she did, she didn’t care.
The bouncer immediately recognized Kiera, flashing her a dazzling smile then waving us past the throng of irritated people waiting in line. Scraper and Dune followed close behind, their eyes watchful of everything around us.
Music blared through the building, making my eardrums rattle. My eyes had difficulty focusing because the strobe lights were in full effect, flashing anywhere and everywhere. Everyone around us looked as if they were going in slow motion with every move they made. Also, the laser lights were zipping past us fast, like we were in one of those spy movies or something. Every time one came near me, I wanted to duck for cover.
Kiera led us up to the bar where a man stood about six-foot tall with shaggy, blond hair that fell into his deep navy eyes. He watched as Kiera approached, a smile gracing his heart-shaped lips. She bent over, and he turned his head, giving his ear to her. He nodded, pulled away, and pointed to the side of the bar. Kiera hopped on her heels and said something else that I tried to decipher yet couldn’t.
She grabbed my arm again and looked at Dune, who came close.
“Over there,” she yelled, and he nodded, clearing a path for us to walk through the crowd. Most people got out of the way, but there was one in every bunch.
A man wanted to show his balls were bigger than Scraper’s and Dune’s. He was only about five-six, if that, but he was clearly intoxicated since he could barely stand straight, and his walking wasn’t much better. He tried grabbing my ass, but Scraper dealt with him so fast it was over before I got a full view of what went down. I shrugged and kept going.
Dune led us to a table in front of a large stage that was currently black as night. The black, rickety chairs were filthy, and I would be surprised if they held us up the entire night. Kiera and I sat next to each other while the guys sat behind us, guarding.
I stared into the blackness, silently wishing for this to just be over with. A waitress with blonde hair and pink streaks came to the table. She bent down, giving us a nice show of her boobs that were practically hanging out of her uniform, if you could call it that. It was barely two scraps of black fabric, but whatever.
Kiera ordered a pitcher of Jamaican Cowboys, my favorite. I’d had it at a restaurant once and fallen in love. It was coconut rum, peach schnapps, triple sec, and orange and pineapple juice. It sounded tame, but it gave a hard punch after the first couple drinks. The sweetness of the fruit combined with the kick of the rum exploded on my lips.
Good for Kiera. I was in the mood to drink, to forget.
The waitress came by, and I was not at a loss for drinks as Kiera kept my glass continuously full. When the lights dimmed, four decent looking guys stepped on stage, wearing the same black pants, bow ties, and black vests. The first was young, maybe twenty, with light skin and taut muscles. They weren’t defined, though still nice. The second was built and stacked with ab after ab, definitely spent time in the gym. His eyes sparkled green with mischief. The third guy was the damn bartender we had seen when we had first come in. His eyes darted to our table, locking with Kiera’s. Oh, shit. He smiled then turned to the crowd. The last guy had tattoos on one of his arms; his brown hair was cut short to his scalp; and he carried an aura of power. It was like he owned the stage, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. What was the harm in looking?
I downed more Cowboys, my body relaxing. For the first time in months, I felt everything begin to fade away, leaving me slightly calm. My head was a bit fuzzy, but I was still in the now.
The music turned to some upbeat tempo, and the men in front of us began dancing. Women around us screamed like banshees ready for their next meal. Me, I was enjoying the silence in my head.
I continued to down the drinks, watching the hot bartender gyrate his hips back and forth seductively, all the while smirking at Kiera.
Mr. Powerful Aura made eye contact with me, grabbing my hands and raking them down his chest after he hopped down from the stage. Kiera gave me money to put in their pants, but it didn’t get me all hot and bothered. When Kiera laughed, though, it made me smile. I’d missed her, missed the fun we used to have.
The waitress filled a fresh glass for me, and I picked it up, gulping the contents. As I set the glass down, I noticed the words scrawled on the napkin in that same writing.
‘What would Jag think?’
Shit.
I gripped the napkin, my eyes darting back and forth through the crowd, but it was so packed and dark I couldn’t see a damn thing. He was there. The man trying to hurt my family was there, and I was too drunk to do a damn thing about it.
I moved quickly over to Kiera, my eyes never leaving the crowd behind me. My head started to spin, but I had to get her out of there, away from this person. Even with guards, I didn’t trust whoever it was. He had gotten way too close to me one too many times.
I leaned into her ear, my voice a bit shaky. I needed to clear it a couple of times before I could speak. “I’m feeling like shit. Let’s go.”
She took one look at me and nodded without a word. I wasn’t sure what my face portrayed, but if the fear slicing through my heart was any indication, I didn’t want to know the questions she had for me.
It had been three weeks since the last note. Too bad I wanted to think they were over with. Wishful thinking sucked ass.