Page 32 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation
“Just a thought. Do you think he could know some of the people who planted the bombs at the wedding?”
My brother narrows his eyes at Hatfield. “That’s a sloppy way to get rid of us.”
“Yeah, it is.” It wasn’t what I was thinking. It’s more my mind’s trying to find the connection to Ava’s hatred of us. To her being here at the MMA fights. Then again, maybe she likes to bet on fights… “Maybe he’s got more diverse interests than we thought, and it wasn’t us who were the targets.”
“A possibility. A thin one, but…” Cal nods at me. “Why don’t we go say hello, pull him in for a chat, and then take out the trash?”
“Sounds good to me.”
I glance back to where I saw Ava, but of course, she’s gone.
Again.
EIGHT
ava
“What the fuck…?”
I stand in my apartment, jaw dropping as I look around. My heart slams hard, my hand slipping into my bag where I have Murphy’s gun. I wrap my clammy fingers tight around the handle.
The place is a mess.
As in it’s been completely ransacked.
Deliberately.
I make myself move through the debris. I ignore the bedroom and the kitchen and go into the bathroom. It smells like a soap store exploded in here.
There’s a smashed bottle of perfume that makes my insides contract, the sweet floral scent sickeningly strong in the air.
It stings my eyes and I blink hard as they blur, my throat suddenly scratchy.
I never wear it. But I like, in moments when I’m a little vulnerable or sad, to smell it when I lift the stopper.
My mother’s perfume. Gone.
I press my lips together and swallow hard.
I can buy another bottle.
Tiny shards of glass glitter on the floor, my bath salts and oils forming swirls on the tile. My makeup bag is emptied and all of the contents smashed to hell. I kneel down and reach around under the sink, knowing what I’ll find, and when I do, my heart still drops.
Nothing. There’s nothing taped to the underside of the vanity.
How…?
Does it even matter how? My money, my jewels. Everything is gone.
The few things I call mine. Gone.
I get up on shaky limbs, slowly moving into the bedroom.
That’s worse, in a way, because someone’s been through my underwear. Doesn’t look like any were taken, but still. I feel so violated. My pillows are slashed. And my clothes…
I’m sure I can cobble together a few outfits, but most of my dresses, coats, evening wear, and even my jeans are in pieces.
I grab on to the wall, my knees buckling. All I wanted was to get home, change, and take a long hot shower before my appointment with Dad’s lawyer. It’s been a handful of days since… since I left Seamus in that building, and Claudetta hasn’t returned my calls.
