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“I know this is an awful time for you, Summer. We’re doing everything we can to find the person who killed your father.” He hesitates for a moment, averting his eyes slightly before returning them to me. “Whatever is going on between yourself and Detective Grey cannot continue; there’s too much danger, and someone will end up hurt. I don’t want it to be either of you, do you understand?”
I swallow hard as the heat rushes to my cheeks. I can’t argue with him. He’s right. We’re putting each other in danger and the thought of anything happening to Bhodi sends an ache to my heart. I simply nod, the shame plastered all over my face.
“I am proud of you, though, for telling us what really happened with Harry. It’s never easy to talk about abuse.”
Detective Strode nods and turns on his heels before closing the door behind him, leaving me with my own thoughts. I stare at the door for a moment, the sincerity in his words making me think there’s another meaning behind it all.
Sitting in the living room hours later, I watch the sunset. Lost in the beauty of the pink and orange hues before the darkness of the night sky blankets the city. The same city that I once considered beautiful. My eyes travel to my phone on the coffee table as it buzzes, turning to the side I sit upright on the sofa, my bare feet firmly placed on the soft carpet, watching as the phone shuffles along the glass.
Eyeing the ‘unknown number’ that lights up the screen, I briefly hesitate before slamming my wine glass on the table and answering the persistent call. Holding the phone to my ear, I listen intently as that familiar shiver runs up my spine. Chewing my bottom lip slightly, I finally speak.
“What do you want?” My tone clip, listening for an answer.
“Well, I deserved that. I’ll let you off…for now.” His voice drips with velvet threat, sending the ache straight to my core. Slamming my thighs together, hoping the ache subsides.
“Well?” I ask impatiently, rising to my feet and beginning to pace the living room. Hoping it’ll take my mind off my sinful needs.
“As Harry gained access to the apartment, I’ve had the access code for the service door and the code for the apartment changed. I’ll text them to you now. They’ll be active immediately.”
My brow furrows, “But how did…”
Before I can finish the sentence, he abruptly hangs up. My eyes scan the entire apartment, anticipating his sudden appearance leaves me on edge. Yet after a couple of moments, there’s no sound, no movement, and no Two/Face anywhere in sight.
Sinking back into the sofa, allowing my head to fall back. I get lost in the moment, staring off into space before a thought crosses my mind, causing me to sit bolt-upright upright, scanning the room once again.
How did he know?....What if he can see me?...Oh god, did he kill my dad?
The entire thought sends bile to my throat. Sitting frozen on the sofa the entire apartment feels like a fucking vice. Clutching my phone in my hand, I bolt from the apartment, grabbing my coat, before slamming the door behind me and making my way down to the street below.
Gasping for air as the doors finally open. I lean against the railings as the cool night air consumes me. Glancing up and down the road, I feel my feet beginning to carry me off, and I don’t argue.
Chapter Thirteen
Two/face??
Stepping into the smoky room, all eyes turn to me.
“The fuck are you looking at?” I ask, eyeing Axe.
Pushing himself from his chair, he slowly approaches. I lift my chin slightly as the massive fucker has a couple of inches on me. His jaw ticks, and his eyes narrow before he speaks.
“It’s been almost a fucking week, and we’re still walking around with our thumbs up our fucking asses.”
Allowing my gaze to move to Jimmy, he sits by the log burner. A glass of whisky between his fingers as he gazes deep into the flames. Michael’s death hit us all hard in our own ways. Even though we were a team, we were also friends who relied on each other and worked towards the same common goal.
“We don’t even know if this was an attack on us Two!” Axe continues, turning away and dropping back into his chair. His head in his hands, shaking his head from the sheer frustration we all feel.
“Without proof, you know we’re not going after Harry; we don’t do that shit!” I relay the point once again. “If we do, we’re no better than the rest of the people we take off the streets.”
Lifting his head, the anger begins to radiate from his entire body. “
So, we just fucking wait? By the time he does slip up, he could be long gone.”
Keeping the rage at bay, I listen to Axe’s concerns. Whilst he’s correct, at any moment, Harry could leave and disappear if he chooses to, and we can’t allow that, but at the same time, we aren’t fucking mavericks. Everything we do is carefully analyzed, risks are weighed, and everyone knows what each mission result should be. Michael was in charge. He kept our egos in check, weighed up the risks, and planned for anything. We’re now missing an important cog in the machine, and it feels like any good thing we have ever done is now overshadowed by the want and need for revenge and the inability to think clearly.
I feel my eyes moving away from Axe’s intense gaze, not out of fear. But because I know he’s fucking right, and I hate it. Trying to keep everything together won’t work if we all have our own agendas. My gaze falls on Jimmy. He was always Michael’s right hand, the sensible one, the thinker and the one to set everything in motion to ensure we always reached our target. Right now, I see a man who’s lost and without a purpose.
“How’s the funeral coming along?” I ask, taking a seat by the log burner. Reaching for the whiskey and pouring a large shot. He momentarily pulls his eyes from the flames to look at me before turning back to answer.
