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“I’m heading to New York in the morning. I need to sort out my dad’s affairs.”
“Summer, we have lawyers for that. Don’t worry yourself with that right now.” Eric interjects.
I smile at his kindness, but I know this is what I need to do.
“That’s kind of you, but I owe it to my dad. He doesn’t have any other family.”
I force a weak smile, turning my attention back to Harry. I see a flicker of anger as his eyes dart to Eric, then back to me. I swallow hard as I watch him slowly nod his head.
“You’re right.” Turning his attention to Eric, he wraps his arm around me, his fingers digging into my bruises as more tears prick my eyes. “I’ll make sure she gets on the flight tomorrow morning.”
“Very well, if you need anything whilst you’re away, you know where I am.”
I smile politely as Eric takes his leave.
As the door clicks shut behind him, Harry turns to me, gently tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. Leaning in, his lips trace the shell of my ear. In a sinister tone, he finally speaks. Feeling his hot whiskey-laced breath skate across my skin, I fight the urge to vomit all over the floor.
“Tomorrow morning, you’ll change your fucking mind, you aren’t running off to New York. You’re mine, don’t forget that.”
I stand frozen, trapped, as those words repeat in my head. Distraught over the loss of my dad and all those unanswered questions, yet Harry playing his own sick part in this scares me far more. He plays the part all too well. On the surface, he’s successful, caring, kind, attentive, but something almost demonic lurks beneath.
Chapter Two
Bhodi?
Nodding to the patrolman, I ensure my NYPD shield is on full display as I slip under the crime scene tape. With my leather jacket pulled up close around my ears, I clutch onto the shit gas station coffee I managed to pick up on my way here. Passing one to my partner, Detective Strode, he looks at the cup, and his face contorts into disgust. His handlebar mustache droops, making him look like an unimpressed Hulk Hogan. The crisp night air rushing through me whilst we both stand in the street amongst the chaos.
“Couldn’t have found a classier establishment, Grey?” He chuckles, taking a large gulp, followed by a scrunched-up face.
“Well, when they pay better over time, I may be able to afford a nicer coffee. But until then, that’s the best you’re getting.” Taking a swig from the paper cup, I glance around at the on-lookers on the other side of the tape and the Crime Scene Team as they pass by. “What have we got? Another mafia shooting?” I chuckle as Strode slowly shakes his head.
“It’s a blood bath in their kid, it looks as though the target was Michael Harper.”
I freeze as the cup is part of the way to my lips. Lowering it, I look away for a moment.
“Are you sure?” I ask, curiously eyeing the on-lookers in the crowd.
Strode nods, placing the coffee cup down on the ground; he gestures for me to follow him into the club. Pulling out overshoes and latex gloves, we put them on and head into the dimly lit area. As the main area opens, the bar and dance area’s lights are all on. CSU work in small groups across the area.
“Why is it all nightclubs look decent until the lights all come on? It’s like the morning after a shit one-night stand. You never know what you’re going to be faced with.”
I politely smile and nod along with Strode. He’s only fifty years old but currently working on his third divorce. Real charmer, as you can imagine.
As the coroners move past us with a body in a black zipper bag, I quickly stop them. Taking a deep breath, I pull back the zipper. As it slides down, revealing Michael’s face with a large gunshot wound on his forehead. I just merely shake my head and allow the coroner to go on their way.
“You ok over their Grey?” Strode quietly asks with some concern in his voice.
Shaking myself from the trance I’m in, I nod. “Yeah, just seems Michael Harper was probably the least shady club owner in the city. An execution-style killing seems extreme.”
“If there’s one thing this city has taught me. One, never be surprised, and two, someone always has shit to hide.” Strode comments half-heartedly before moving further into the club.
I shrug again, following him through to the office space. Analysing the blood-spattered over the wall behind the desk. It looks as though he had no idea the shot was coming. I chew on my lip, looking over the crime scene before me. The office is neat and tidy, with little paperwork or signs of a struggle. The safe on the far side of the room appears untouched. At the moment, we can rule out robbery as the motive.
“Woah, who’s this beauty?” I turn as Strode thrusts a picture in my face. I feel my heart skip a beat as I admire the beautiful sight before me. Almost white, blonde hair framing an angelic face. Big sapphire blue eyes against sun-kissed skin. Those plump pink lips curved into a smile as she shields the sun from her eyes. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at the photo before it's whipped away again. I feel my jaw tick slightly as my partner studies it.
“Girlfriend?” I ask innocently, trying to show little interest.
Strode scoffs. “Bit young, don’t you think?”
