Page 80 of The Beat of My Heart
“I-I heard you on the phone, is he okay?” she asks.
Swallowing thickly, I tell her the truth, “I don’t know. He’s gone dark, which means he is undercover. When I met you in Boston, that was the start of his assignment. You met him once, at the baseball game. He introduced himself as Lance. Anyway, we were there knowing they would watch me and attempt contact. How much do you know about the Black family?” I ask and watch as her beautiful mind goes into overdrive to make the connection.
“The Black family? You mean, like the Black family in Boston? The one rumored to have ties with the mob?” she finally asks.
“Not rumored, Angel, and not ties. They are the mob—the newest, most dangerous crime family since Whitey Bulger,” I tell her and watch as her little body goes rigid.
“Y-you’re part of the mob?” she asks, trying to release my hand, but I won’t let her go.
Not this time.
“No!” I yell, startling her. “No,” I say more softly, “I am not, and have never worked for them or my father. I decided long ago that I would die before I let that happen.”
“Trevor, we have a son. A little boy. I-I can’t be part of this, he is my entire life,” she tells me. It cuts deeply, but I have to make her understand.
“Angel…”
“Don’t. Don’t call me that,” she snaps. “What the fuck? I need to think, Trevor. I need to think, and I can’t breathe in this car. Please tell him to pull over,” she begs almost hysterically.
“Ang-Julia, we can’t do that. We have to keep moving, I’m sorry, but please let me finish,” I tell her. Julia’s breathing is becoming erratic and she’s looking like a caged animal. I hate that she is trying to get away from me, but I understand her fear.
“Mr. Knight?” The driver interrupts, “I think she may need this,” he says, handing me a paper bag.
Fuck, he’s right. She’s seconds away from hyperventilating.
“Angel, take this,” I say, bunching up the top of the bag for her to breathe into. “Place your head between your legs and just try to take deep breaths,” I say, pleased when she does as I ask.
Because I’m a selfish bastard, I use the opportunity to run my hand up and down her back. Under the guise of comforting her, I let my hand run rhythmically, using the contact to also calm myself.
I lose all sense of time as we sit, but the silence is deafening. Eventually, Julia sits up. Squaring her shoulders like she is going into battle, she asks, “What does this mean, Trevor? Do they know about Charlie? Is he… are we in danger?”
“Ma’am,” the officer in the passenger seat interrupts. “As of now, we have no reason to believe that they know about you or Charlie, but considering the damage done to Mr. Knight’s home this evening, we have to assume it’s only a matter of time. The fact that Mr. Knight didn’t know about his son until this afternoon will buy us some time, but everything will need to move very fast from now on. The best thing you can do is let us do our job by following instructions as best you can. Loki Kane is the best man we have, and if he trusts Mr. Knight, I’m comfortable saying I’d trust him with my life too.”
He gives me a curt nod, then faces forward again. I never thought I’d be so thankful for a stranger sticking his nose into my business, but right now, I could kiss the fucking guy.
Julia is quiet for a while trying to process things, so I don’t push. When she is ready to talk again, the questions come rapidly.
“What does this mean then? What am I supposed to do?”
“Loki is in the field right now,”I hope, “he told me this morning things were going down, that’s when he told me about you,” I cringe, “and Lanie.”
“What about Lanie?” she demands.
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think Loki had a hand in getting Lanie to North Carolina.”
“That’s impossible,” she scoffs. “I very clearly remember the day she decided to come here and interview with Dex. We were sitting on her bed when I suggested nannying,” she pauses and frowns for a second. “Motherfucker. Is he the reason my computer was suddenly bombarded with nanny ads for Charlotte?”
Shrugging, I say, “I honestly don’t know. I had no idea Loki fucked around in our lives like this.”
“Hmmm. Then what? What is he doing now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he okay?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say again, but my throat feels like sandpaper.
Tapping the man in the passenger seat, she asks, “Is Loki okay?”
