13. Delancy
Delancy
I leave Noah to handle her overbearing father and hop back on my bike to return to our destroyed apartment building.
What the fuck happened?
Was it really a gas leak or is someone trying to kill us?
Or me.
Or her.
She talked about her mother’s murder and how her father hid her from the men responsible. Have they found her?
I pass a staging area for the media, and the reporters yell at me, microphones pointed my way to lure me over for an interview, but I ignore those leeches and walk under police tape. The officer stationed there nods, recognizing me because he’s a QBM soldier.
I spot my brother standing in the debris littered yard talking to a police sergeant.
“What are you doing here, Elly?” Astoria is neutral territory.
I must have been hallucinating when relief passes over his face the moment he sees me.
“Lance. What the fuck happened?”
“No fucking clue. But why are you here?”
He sighs and grabs me by the elbow to pull me aside. “I know where all your safe houses are, brother.”
Rage builds in my spine but instead of causing a scene by fighting with my brother, I rip my arm out of his grip.
He leads a mob organization. I’m his enforcer. Of course, he has eyes on me.
“Tell me what you know,” I say, and turn away from him to survey the damage.
“There are traces of gasoline in the unit next to yours.”
“But no traces in mine?” I ask when I walk back to where the sergeant stands.
My brother’s source, who always gets me out of trouble, frowns. “Most of the gasoline-soaked furniture and belongings appear to be a woman’s. Unless those burned up romance books are yours?”
He chuckles, and I consider punching him so hard, his nose caves in. Sexist asshole.
“Pull up your camera feed,” Elias says, not even asking if I have security cameras because he knows I’m a paranoid fuck. Since I don’t know shit about technology, my hacker/tech guy Jed had initially set everything up and showed me how to securely log in to view the videos.
I find the time of the explosion on my feed and a few minutes before, there are two masked men carrying gasoline containers letting themselves inside Noah’s apartment.
What the hell? Did they have a key? I didn’t install cameras inside her apartment, so I fast forward until they exit her place without the red plastic containers, obviously leaving them inside.
One man pauses just outside the unit and lights a cigarette. He takes a puff, then flicks it inside and closes the door.
A few minutes pass by before Noah and I are seen walking up to the building.
“I know they’re wearing masks, but do they look familiar?” Elias asks.
“No. I’ll show Noah and see if she recognizes them.”
“What have you gotten yourself into with that woman, Lance? What do you know about her?”
I shake my head.
Nothing, apparently.
“Any deaths? Injuries?” I ask, avoiding my brother’s question.
“An older woman in her seventies died.”
Mrs. Crowley. That’s a shame. She always smiled and waved at me. She didn’t seem to fear me. Not like the other residents who avoided eye contact with me anytime we passed by each other.
“About a dozen others were injured.”
I pull out a joint from my jacket pocket and light it, taking a huge drag and letting the pot soothe my frayed nerves. I manage to get one more puff in before Elias snatches it from me and stomps it into the ground.
“There was a gas explosion here, you idiot.”
I shrug and nod my chin at the apartment building. “Can I go in and salvage some stuff?”
“Check with the fire chief,” the sergeant says. “My guys are done in there.”
I don’t bother finding the fire chief because he’ll likely tell me no. I do, however, grab my fake badge from my jeans pocket in case someone tries to stop me.
At least two walls of my unit still stand. I grab an empty duffle bag and load it up with a few clothes and weapons. I rarely keep personal items in my safe houses. Any photos or knickknacks owned by my mother are in a storage unit out in Fresh Meadows.
In the bedside table drawer, I remove the book I stole from Noah, a few of her photos I snagged, and her bullet vibrator, and add them to the bag.
Noah’s apartment is nearly leveled, and the flooring is unstable, so I go back outside to sift through the debris on the ground.
I find a few of her clothes that aren’t burnt to shreds.
I also find almost all the framed photos she had on her bookcase.
I add them to my duffle and keep searching.
It takes nearly an hour before coming across her photo albums scattered underneath a piece of metal door.
“Hey,” Elias says after I stuff the albums in my bag, zip it up, and stand. “One of the firefighters found this.”
He holds up a necklace with a cross. I’d seen Noah wear it a couple times. It has the initials SL on the back.
“Seems important.”
I take the chain and pendant from Elias and nod.
“Did the police get video from neighbors? Ring footage, anything like that?”
“Not yet. I’ll send someone around and make sure everything with your ugly face on it is deleted.”
Was that… a joke? A tease? My brother being… funny?
I turn to leave, but Elias calls my name, stopping me. “I’m glad you’re okay, brother.”
If he sees the shock on my face, he doesn’t react.
What the hell is wrong with him? I know he’s still not over his latest breakup, but he’s been incredibly... emotional lately.
He’s almost acting like a real brother.
I obsess over that thought on the ride home and come to the conclusion that Elias huffed too much gasoline and smoke at the fire scene.
When I walk into the loft, Noah is asleep on the couch. Her mouth hangs open, and she’s snoring. She’s also drooling. I notice an empty bottle of wine on the table and the pain pills she stole from Cillian next to it.
Oh, okay. She's wasted as fuck.
I cover her up with a blanket and kiss her forehead. She stirs but stays asleep. I set out the clothes I salvaged, but store the book, vibrator, and photos in my safe. I have plans for those.
After showering and crawling into bed, I struggle to fall asleep.
I remember Noah’s hand on my cock while on my motorcycle and how badly I wanted to punish her for giving me blue balls.
I fist my cock, attempting to relieve this tension she’s caused—that she always causes—and within minutes, I'm coming all over my hand.
I wash off my release and finally feel rested enough to doze off. Tomorrow, I’ll meet with my tech guy and go over the surveillance video again. I’ll see if he can track these men on street cameras.
Why the fuck would someone want to kill Noah?
I have a suspicion this has something to do with her mother’s murder.
I still need to question her about why she was targeted.
But would revealing the truth change everything between us?
That’s what I’m scared of finding out.