Page 42 of Full Throttle

It was late morning, and I’d been up since before dawn, needing to get some sort of workout in before she awoke. I’d rolled off that shitty—not to mention short—couch and stretched for thirty minutes, followed by some body weight exercises just to get my blood pumping.

By the time I was done, the sun had been rising, and I called my brother to check in. He was on Stevens' island in the middle of the lake. Apparently, he and two other men had small apartments in the Mafia King’s mansion. As usual, his sentences were short and vague. He had nothing to report and said Collin’s men in Chicago hadn’t seen or heard of any Bratva since before Christmas. Kavi was underground again. None of our contacts in Denver had seen him either. After his sighting, we put eyes on the hotel he’d been staying at. He never came out and after a few days, he seemed to disappear.

After my phone call with my brother, I went outside and put salt on the stairs, thankful I didn’t bust my own ass. Then, around nine, Dominique finally emerged with her crutches, with bags under her eyes and wild hair. She greeted me, void of emotion while she made herself some coffee. After her cup was drowned, she disappeared to the bathroom for an hour.

Now, we were here, and I wanted to shoot myself in the damn foot.

My phone ringing jolted her, and suddenly, I could see her face. The pain in her green eyes made me jerk.

“You going to get that?” she asked, her voice tired as she looked away from me, going back to writing.

I didn’t give her an answer, only rising from my seat. I snatched the phone and saw Leon’s name on the screen.

“Yeah?” I answered, grabbing my hoodie and pulling it over my head.

“Need you to step outside,” Lee ordered.

“Right,” I muttered, already heading towards the door. With my hand on the doorknob, I looked over my shoulder, my heart stilling. She was already looking up at me, and in the sunlight, I could see evidence that she’d been crying.

Fuck, had she been crying this whole time?

The ache in my chest intensified.

“I’ll be right outside,” I told her, my voice gentle.

Her brows pinched like I’d been picturing them at my soft tone. “Who is it?”

“Lee,” I told her, hearing a banging noise on the other end of the line.

She nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“Were you hoping for someone else?” I found myself asking, not able to look away from her. Her neck was red, splotchy. The last time I’d seen it like that was the night at The Pit. The sight felt like a kick to the gut.

She looked away from me, her eyes going to the city outside. “No. Can you—uh—can you ask for Amara’s number?”

“Cain, you there?” Lee asked.

I turned my head away from her, pulling the door open. “I need Amara’s number.” Once I was outside, the freezing temps slapped me in the face as the salt cracked underneath my shoes. “Fuck,” I hissed. “Too fucking cold for this shit.”

“Why do you need Amara’s number?” he asked, suspicion lacing his question.

Moving to the railing, I looked down to my snow-covered car, the craving for a cigarette heavier than before. “Dominique was asking for it.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, the girls had a little bonding session the day Nikki got out of the hospital.”

I ignored the nickname for her, running my finger over the layer of ice covering the railing of the small deck. I didn’t have anything to say to that, other than I didn’t like the jealousy lighting inside of me. It was a small green flame, but eventually, if it continued, it would grow into an ugly beast. I needed to meditate. My emotions were all over the fucking place, and it was slowly killing me from the inside out.

“Heard anything about that car I told Sullie about?” I asked, moving on.

“That’s why I called you,” he began. “The car belongs to a big Chicago investment banker, Thad Bunker. Three days ago, he went missing, his house trashed. The Chicago PD have an investigation open.”

“Did Casey send over the information?” I turned and leaned my ass against the railing, no longer giving a fuck about the frigid temps or the ice.

“Yeah. Right now, the STL PD can’t handle that. It’d be better if the Bureau stepped in.”

I nodded to myself, understanding the shit show that the detective must be dealing with. “How are the streets?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been camped out at Amara’s place for the last two days.”

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