Page 2 of Wrapped in Silver

Run for his gun in his room across the way. The combination is my birthday. They won’t be able to catch you in time.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, imagining the two burglars rushing up the stairs grabbing my ankle. They claw up my body and reach for my neck, squeezing the life out of me. Then we’d both be gone.

Dad. My teeth grit.

In a flash, the two burglars are out of the house. Cold winter air pushes in snow flurries over the welcome mat, and the house feels infinitely colder.

When I finally unfreeze, I clamor for my phone and call the police, then text all of my dad’s closest friends to expedite the process.

Please. Please.

I wait for a response, and as if I wished it, a call comes in.

“Bill.” I choke on my own breath. “I don’t know what happened. Two bangs, shadows—”

“Breathe, Quinn,” Bill’s smoker’s voice rattles through the phone. “I’m already on my way. Stay on. Tell me exactly what you saw.”

“Two people. Had to be men. Green ski masks. Black leather jackets. One was really tall—like six-two—and the other was about my height… I think.”

“Did they see you?”

“I—I don’t think so.” I swallow past a hard lump forming in my throat.

Dad’s gone.It sinks in.He might be dead. God no.

My face scrunches as the sobs come.

“Don’t you worry. Your dad is the toughest son of a bitch I know. He’ll endure, and wewillfind them.”Bill does his best to comfort me, but I’m already far gone.

Flashes of my dad taking me to police banquets plague my mind. Bill and Ferraro were always at either of his sides having beers together. They laughed when a cute rookie cop came up to me just to say hello, and when he heard my last name—Dall—his face went ghost-white.

I remember it so clearly—stomping my foot and glaring at Dad like I’d kill him. I was the only one who could make him go red in the face. Now… he might be gone.

The phone slips from my hands as I slide down my bed to the floor, covering my face in hopes this is a bad dream. I wish my mom and sister were here. I only talk to them once in a blue moon since they moved to Cali years ago, butGodcould I use their support. No point to call them now anyway. The cops are on it, and they’d descend into a panic. Not what I need at the moment.

It’s not like I can lean on my friends from work or college, either. That’s the price of being sort of a loner, I guess. Even though they all know me as the loud one, I never really got past the surface with them. I usually spend my free nights with Dad watching true crime documentaries or my soaps, if I could convince him to fork over the remote. God it hurts to think of it now.

Sirens flash through my window, forcing my head up.

They’re here.

Thunderous footsteps of the SWAT team give me goosebumps. My name echoes through the house, making me wonder if I’m dreaming, or rather… if I’m going to pass out.

Thump! Thump!

Ferraro shows up in my room first. Shoe polish black hair slicked back makes him look more mobster than cop. Grey trench coat, red button down beneath… he was already on duty in the middle of the night before he got here.

“Came as soon as I could, Quinn.” He crouches to his knees, brow furrowed. “My men are already on it.”

I sob into my hands.

“Hey.Hey.Listen to me. We’re going to get your father back.” He balls a tight fist, making his black glove scrunch. “And after he’s home safe, I’ll break whoever dared cross us.”

His ferocity transfers to me. All of the tremoring in my joints heats into anger.

“You better, Uncle F.” I take a deep breath.

“Bet your ass.” He stands, holding his hand out for me to grab. “You stay with me and Mara while we sort this out, alright?”

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