Page 11 of Mafia Tales

“Wait …” Rowan begins, her eyes widening.

James nods in agreement, his eyes hard. “Let’s finish up here then,” he says, his voice low. “We have places to be. Is there anything you aren’t telling us, Rowan?” James pinpoints her with a stare and I can see that she wants to avoid the questions, but she squares her shoulders.

“Look.” Her lips tighten perceptively. “What the fuck is your problem?” She makes a little half-step as if she forgets that I’m right there since her attention is on James. She is so close to me now that I can almost count the freckles that are scattered across her cheeks. Her pulse flutters in her throat, her eyes bouncing from me to James and back again, as if trying to work out some kind of puzzle. “That’s all I know. Not much.” She grinds out.

James grins at her, his scar stretching across his cheek as he does. “Sounds about right. Youdon’tknow much. Can’thelpmuch.Perfect.” He waves his hand dismissively and goes back to pulling random things from the shelves, looking for anything helpful. I can feel Rowan’s eyes on me, watching my every move. Being back near her reminds me how captivating I found her. Now, five years older, she is even more beautiful. There’s always been something about her that pulls at me. She fists her hands at her side as if she’d like to slap James.

“You’re a dick.” She says to James, obviously unhappy with him.

James just smirks, apparently happy that he’s needled her. It’s not her exactly that he’s mad at. They used to be friendly, but it’s her that is the trigger behind everything else. That’s going to be a James problem to handle though. I can’t do that for him.

“Riven,” she says pointedly, “is it Marco then? Is he out? That’s who you think it was?” All I can do is give a nod and watch as her spine stiffens. Apparently, she knew he was in prison. Maybe Lillian kept apprised of his whereabouts. I’m still suspicious of the photo though.

As we continue to search, my eyes catch something on a shelf that doesn’t quite belong. It’s a small, leather-bound notebook, tucked away on the top shelf, almost hidden from view.

I walk over and pull it down, my heart racing with anticipation. James has always heckled me about my potential as a thief. When we were young, I’d always had a knack for finding that last hidden item. Turning the cover gingerly, I see that it’s filled with pages of Lillian’s handwriting. It’s not precisely a personal diary, although it contains some jotted down thoughts here and there, someone primarily filled it with lines of what look like orders or …. My eyes scan the pages, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. “It’s a ledger.” I finally say out loud.

“A what?” Rowan says.

“Are those shipments?” James asks as he peers over my shoulder, looking at a particular page. I nod. My thoughts are along the same lines and as I flip through the book, my heart sinks. It’s obvious that Lillian had continued to be deeply involved with dangerous things. All the entries look to be going back years. This wasn’t a small operation. Lillian wasn’t so content to let the reins of the Syndicate go afterall.

“I know what these are.” Rowan points to a column that has symbols I was just struggling to decipher. Her finger traces the edge of the line, and then she pulls the book from my hands. Disconcerted, I allow it. She flips through pages, her movements rushed, tracing additional columns and then turns to me.

“Well?” The scent of strawberries and vanilla rises beyond the smell of cleaning materials, and I have difficulty tearing my eyes away from the column of creamy skin right at the hollow of her neck. Soft and lush. I want to bite her there at the pulse point - the thought so vivid saliva pools in my mouth. Her face pivots towards me, blue eyes wide and startled as if she discerns the direction of my thoughts. I can sense that she does, and my cock hardens as her eyes dilate.

Clearing her throat she says, “These here Riven.” She points. “These are location markers in the kingdom that my grandmother used. This one.” She points to one that is shaped like a small fish. “It is for the shoals out by Drury Island. And this.” She points to another that is an ash leaf. It is right on the trail past Albani Ridge. Rowan continues to list the symbols. Leaves, flowers, a fish, a bird–but all markers for locations within the Kingdom of Bathos.

I can see her thinking it over as she looks through the book. “These are all smuggling shipments then?” She asks, her brow furrowed.

“Yes. It looks that way.” I rub my chin, thinking it over. “It looks like she was running a small side operation for a while. Or working in tandem with Marco. Maybe she got a little too greedy.” Perhaps her death had nothing to do with me at all and was solely because of her own enterprises.

“What about this here?” she asks, pulling my attention back to the matter at hand. Pointing to a column that only has a set of letters.

“Well, this here,” James says. He jabs a finger at a line. “M.T. that’s Marco Toma, isn’t it? The L.G there.” Another finger jab.

Rowan’s breaths in a hiss and then says, “Lillian.”

“Yes,” James said. “This column here then are people’s initials. If that’s locations.”

“Okay. I just don’t understand how this helps you find Marco.” Rowan’s voice is thoughtful, considering. “Unless you already know where he is.”

“Well,” I reply patiently. “These are useful, these contacts she had. We have plans of our own; however, we can add these to our list. Perhaps some of these contacts of hers had grudges, but we are pretty sure that the culprit behind things is Marco. We have intelligence that he’s behind attacks on the Syndicate. It makes sense that Lillian’s murder is part of that.” She is rough and quick to thrust the book towards me, her eyes filling again with tears.

“So,” Her voice is rough as she scrubs her palms down the sides of her jeans. “She got involved again. That’s what you think? That it’s Marco? It’s not about those rogue shifters in the forest? Are you sure?” She sniffles as she dashes her tears from her eyes.

Normally I find a woman’s tears manufactured or an annoyance, but I find Rowan provokes none of those reactions in me. Instead, I reach for her and pull her forward into my arms and tuck her against my chest.

“Rogue shifters?” I murmur. “What would rogue shifters be doing attacking Lillian?” I can feel her tears dampen the cloth of my shirt; her cheek turned against my chest. She makes a small huff of annoyance. “She would have killed a rogue that attacked her.”

“One of them attacked me the other night,” she mumbles. My reaction is instantaneous and irrational white-hot rage. I struggle to keep my own wolf down.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What are you talking about?” I set her away slightly so I can look at her face. “Attacked you? Here in the forest?” My voice is raised, and I take a steadying breath in order to calm myself. James glides forward.

“Really? That’s interesting,” he says, peering at her seemingly not concerned with my unnecessary outburst. I remind myself to punch him in the face later. Instead, I focus on the small wisps of sunset colored hair that curl around Rowan’s ears.

“Yes. On my way here to Lillian’s. The night she was murdered. I was getting gas in Holden. Right before I was going to get into my car.” She shivers and I pull her back close to me, savoring her softness. I try to swallow the anger, the bile that has risen. The thought that a rogue is out there hunting and could have set their sights on Rowan is unacceptable. My feelings are completely and totally irrational.

Rowan pulls from my arms and takes a step away, taking a breath, as if trying to piece herself backtogether. My fists clench to keep myself from yanking her back to me. Somehow, I resist and the more that she tells of the story, the more that I grow concerned. James paces. This is not a normal situation and I fear that this “rogue” shifter is not so “rogue” after all. This was specific. He could have gotten into that car if he wanted.

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