Quiver: Watched by Shadows (Quivering Shadows Book 2) (5 page)

“Actually, there’s something in there for you. Take a look.” I was grateful that he’d had the foresight to bring it with him when he’d carried me unconscious from the office to the snooker hall.

He shrugged and sat down on the seats besides me. To my disappointment, he was back to being fully dressed. I planned to rectify that as soon as possible.

Resting the bag upon his thighs, he seemed reluctant to check inside, as if it were a trap.

He reached in and fished around. He grew still when his flesh came in contact with the cold, hard, distinctive shape of the gun.

He took it out and asked, “Where… Max’s office?”

I nodded. “Yeah, in a hidden drawer. There was also a ledger or diary in there with it, too.”

“Wait, how do you know Max?” I asked, puzzled.

Ignoring me, he checked his back pocket and withdrew a bar-rag. He wrapped the gun safely within its cotton folds.

“What’s in the ledger? Did you look?” he asked, now searching the depths of the leather bag eagerly.

“I don’t know… I didn’t have a chance to look, what with the hiding and being scared out of my mind,” I replied, keeping my face dead-pan.

Finding his prize, he bent his head over the open pages of the ledger, squinting at the small, hand-printed script. The sound of crisp pages being flipped echoed around the room. He stopped and scanned a page, reading a line over and over again. “Gotcha.” He grinned, causing his eyes to sparkle like the ripples of a lake when a sunrise hits. I could bathe all day in those sea-blue eyes.

Eric suddenly leaned over and kissed me fully on the mouth, too quickly; I didn’t have the chance to enjoy it. Careful not to the let the book fall, he caressed my cheek with his free hand. I tilted my head towards his stroking fingers. I savoured every pass, knowing it wouldn’t last.

“You have to go to the police,” he said, spoiling the moment.

“Wait, why? I’ll just quit. I don’t need to go back there.”

“If you quit, they’ll know it was you who took the gun and the book, and they’ll come after you.”

“If I go to the police, they’ll definitely know it was me,” I countered.

“The police would protect you, at least.”

“I don’t know anything,” I protested, shaking my head. “Obviously, the whole business is shady, but…”

“You stole from them. You don’t understand,” he said, pacing. “These are dangerous people. You don’t mess with the Quadrello family.”

“C’mon, this ain’t Chicago. They’re not the mafia!” Briefly forgetting my time spent hiding for my life in a cupboard. “And anyway, if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be involved! This is all your fault!” I shouted. “What I am supposed to do now?” I was close to tears.

“I’ve told you, you need to go to the police and take these with you,” he said, trying to reason with me, handing me the gun and heavy-bound notebook.

“Just tell them what you know.”

“I know nothing,” I repeated, “You haven’t had the decency to tell me! Why don’t you go? You obviously know more than I do.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? I can’t…” he trailed off.

“Well, neither can I.” I let my arms go limp. The book and gun, held tight in either hand, fell to my sides. “I couldn’t do that to Max, anyway.”

“Ha! Sod Max, you don’t owe him anything!” Eric raged.

“The hell I don’t! It’s OK, I’ll talk to him,” I said, trying hard to calm down. “He’ll understand. I’ll give these back to him, and—”

“You doom us both if you go to him.”

His eyes blazed with hatred. The bruises on his face became darker as blood rushed to his fuming head. I couldn’t understand how he could hate a man I knew to be sweet and sensitive, a regular good guy. I’d known Max for over two years, and he’d never let me down before. I wanted to ask if we were talking about the same man, but I knew from Eric’s stern expression that I wouldn’t have any joy getting that information out of him.

“Make your decision, Kate. If you choose to go to him, know that I won’t come to your rescue again.”

“I didn’t need rescuing,” I muttered.

How could he make me choose? Did he not care for me at all? I knew I should choose Max’s friendship over lust, but my body and soul longed to be near Eric, to touch him, to be a part of him. And yet, it was clear he would never let me in. He was a wall I could never climb; he’d never let me pass the barriers that he clung to. There were too many unanswered questions that he was reluctant to discuss.

We hadn’t formed a relationship. I’d just been used; for what exact purpose, I still didn’t know. It infuriated me that he couldn’t just talk to me and tell me what this was all about. Would I always be doomed to play 20 questions with him, which ultimately, would lead to more questions and arguments?

I studied the floor; a tacky residue stuck to my shoe.

“I’m sorry, Eric. I have to give him a chance to explain.” I looked up at him, hoping to see a change of heart, but his stubborn face was set; rigid like chiselled stone.

“You’re on your own then,” he said. My heart sank as he turned his back and walked towards the bar.

Silent tears streamed down my cheeks, and I told myself to pull it together. Not to let him see me like this. Fine! Fuck him, I thought. I shoved the wrapped gun and the ledger back into my bag and looked for the exit. I had no idea where I was, and hoped I’d be able to recognise a landmark once I got outside.

The snooker hall was like a dingy maze, and I struggled to find the exit. Turning on the spot, I wanted to crumple and give up. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eric watching me, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking him for help. But oh, how I wanted to go to him. I wanted to forget the gun, Max, and the trouble I’d gotten myself into and crawl back into Eric’s protective arms. We’d go to bed and let the covers shield us from the world as our tangled bodies made sweet love.

“Kate?” I heard Eric calling me.

Hopeful, I turned to look at him.

“The exit is that way,” he pointed.

I ran for the door. I was in danger of falling to the ground if I didn’t move my legs. My heart had been ripped out and served up in a cocktail glass – a bloody Mary with extra salt for the wound.

Chapter Eight

D
ialling Max’s number, I prayed he’d answer. He would reassure me. He’d fix it, make everything go back to normal.

He had to.

My only other option would be to… I couldn’t think. There was no one else I could turn to. If I went to the police, I’d be deflecting the problem straight onto Max. I had no idea how long you got locked up for possessing a firearm. But then again, I tried to walk through my foggy thoughts: The gun was in my bag, not in his hands.

It took a couple of rings before he picked up.

“Hello, Kate, is that you?” he said with a yawning, thick, groggy voice.

I paused, trying to decide. Was there any reason not to go to the police?

“Kate? Are you there? Are you OK?” His voice was filled with worry. I couldn’t not talk to him.

“Not really. I fucked up, Max. I don’t know what to do,” I blurted, choking on my words.

“Breathe, Kate. Where are you?”

“I’m not sure. Chinatown, I think,” I said, looking around, taking in the distinctive red archway for the first time.

“You’re not far from the office then. Can you make it there? I can pick you up or meet you there.”

I didn’t deserve a friend like Max, especially not after what I put him through earlier.

“I can get to the office. I’ll be there soon. Thanks Max,” I sniffled.

***

I
turned into a familiar street and was able to get my bearings. Dawn was approaching and rosy streaks, the consistency of watercolours, blotted the misty blue-grey sky that I spied over dirty rooftops.

It wasn’t long before I could see the office door in the distance. My pulse had calmed, and I’d managed to stop the torrent of tears.

The door was unlocked, and the alarm stayed quiet as I walked past.

“Max?” I called up the stairs, hearing no movement above.

I took the stairs two at a time, wanting to get this over and done with as soon as possible. I’d tell him everything: Meeting Eric and what he ultimately made me do. Max would forgive me. I’d give the gun back, hand over the ledger, and it would all be over.

I would go back to being a simple, boring filing-clerk, and alive. Working a 9-to-5 job, happy with an uncomplicated life. No more craziness, no more dangerous encounters with strange men, I promised myself. Simple and normal. Maybe I’d even try again with Max, if he’d have me…

Out of courtesy, I knocked on Max’s office door and pushed it open.

I smiled at my friend. Max sat in his tall-backed leather executive’s chair, but I knew something was wrong the moment I saw his cold eyes. They were avoiding me; there was no longer a warm, flickering flame. His face was like a mask, without emotion. My smile evaporated as I took in the rest of the room. It was as if a bucket of ice had been poured over me and then, just for good measure, I’d been chucked head-first into the river Tyne.

The air had been swiftly sucked from the room, and I struggled to breathe.

On either side of Max, flanking him, stood two men in the shadows. They walked in tandem, as if they’d rehearsed their steps. A bulky silhouette came out concealment and placed a hand possessively upon Max’s left shoulder. Terry.

To Max’s right stood a statue of another man. His outline was skinnier than his bookend on the other side. I stared in horror; I realised I’d seen those wire-rimmed glasses before. I recognised his large, ogling, dull eyes magnified through the panes of his spectacles. It was only a few hours before that he’d skimmed my body with those eyes.

“I hear you like to be watched, Kate.” Terry sneered, breaking the thick silence. A disgusting grin pinned his smile high up on his face, baring his crooked teeth, partially capped in gold, displaying them like trophies.

“Max?” I croaked, pleading him to spring into to action, to say something - that it was all a mistake, a misunderstanding.

But all I saw was betrayal. I was helpless and spent. There would be little point to running. I knew my legs wouldn’t get me far. I fell to the floor, crumpled in a pitiful heap, and gave up fighting.

Max wouldn’t meet my gaze. He only stared at the spare gun lying on the desk in front of him.

To be continued…

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About the author

Livia Rook is a full-time writer, originally hailing from England, living in the South of Ireland with her husband and a house full of cats. Surrounded by peaceful emerald fields she always has a pen and notebook to hand ready for when the next saucy idea strikes. Livia is also an avid comic-book reader and wildlife advocate.

Copyright © 2014 by Livia Rook

Published by Elwynn Cottage

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