Page 93 of Vow

“Fact remains, I am sure the man knew she was pregnant.” Wally shrugged his beefy shoulders, and folded those thick arms over his chest. His perspiration on his forehead had picked up a bit. “You seem to be under some kind of impression that just because I am a private investigator, I will do anything. That is not the case. My safety is a priority, and these people,” he said, reaching over to tap a finger against the paper, “are not the kind of people I care to find out I am looking into their business. I hope you understand.”

Haven’s jaw ached from how firmly she clenched it. “You’re telling me that you won’t look for her at all?”

“Listen, girly …” Wally leaned forward, and lowered his tone as his eyes scanned the patrons in the business again. “This is a stupid road you’re trying to walk down, and I assure you that unless a private investigator has a whole army of guns behind him to take care of him, he is not going to take on this job. For reference, so you can save yourself the money and the hassle of trying to find someone else. It’s a wasted effort on your part, Haven.”

She didn’t think so.

How could she think that?

“She’s my friend,” Haven murmured.

Wally coughed, and glanced away. “Yeah, well, your friend got mixed up in some pretty bad people. So, unless you care to get yourself mixed up with them, too, I suggest you scurry along and don’t look back. That’s my advice. Be smart, and take it. You don’t have the kind of power or influence these people do. You are a regular woman in a very dangerous world. These people live a life that would give you nightmares. You don’t have even a fraction of what you need to get you through their front door.”

Well, fuck.

“Right now, you are not even on their radar,” the man added quieter. “If you begin looking at them, you will become a blip. The second they know you are there is the very second you become their problem. And do you want to know how they deal with problems like you?”

“How?”

“The easy way would be to kill you. The hard way would be to keep you. Now, you can keep that folder I gave you, but I suggest you burn it and pretend like you never saw it to begin with.” Wally stood from the table, and gathered his things. Sliding his shades back down to cover his eyes, he turned to Haven once more with a simple, “Have a good day, Miss Murphy. Don’t contact me again about this—I won’t answer. In fact, I blocked your number after I called you this morning. I hope you understand.”

That was that.

Haven was left sitting at the table alone, and staring blankly at the stupid information in front of her. She had wasted a lot of money for information Andino had given her simply because he wanted to, and she wasn’t any better for it.

If anything, she was just more concerned than before.

She sat at that table for entirely too long before Haven decided enough was enough. She was quick to gather her things, and then leave the small eatery with the folder still tucked under her arm. Despite what Wally suggested, she had absolutely no fucking intention of burning the information.

She wasn’t giving up on Val.

Not yet.

Since the eatery was only a few blocks away from Haven’s house, and she hadn’t been able to jog that morning, she had simply walked. She was halfway home before a prickling sensation covered the back of her neck. The kind of feeling that made all the fine hairs on her body stand up on end.

She peered over her shoulder, but nothing stood out. So, she kept walking. A few cars passed her by, but it was only when a familiar black sedan drove past her for the third time within two blocks that Haven finally noticed it.

The fourth time, the car drove slower.

She didn’t recognize the shadow of the man sitting behind the wheel, but it left her with an uneasy and angry ball growing in her gut. Cars like those were all too common, she found, when it came to the mafia.

How many of the men who worked for Andino had she seen driving cars exactly like that one?

Jesus Christ.

She’d told him, hadn’t she?

Wasn’t she fucking clear enough?

Haven was a few steps from her house when the car drove by going at least twenty under the goddamn speed limit yet again. Done with that nonsense, she pulled her phone from the bag slung over her shoulder, and dialed a familiar number. Despite the fact she had actually deleted his contact from her phone altogether, her stupid mind knew the number by heart.

Of course.

This was the one and only call she would make to him. And it was only to tell him to fuck way the hell off.

He’d done enough to her.

“Haven?”