Chapter Twenty-six
Luca
Shaking my head, I say, “That isn’t possible.” I look at Weeks, his face portraying the same thoughts I’m having.
“Not one match. I’ve ran it so many times, Luca.” He taps on the keyboard, searching.
I let my feet take me from one side of my office to the other, pacing back and forth.
With a loud smack, “Will you fucking stop that. You’re making me a nervous wreck.” Weeks looks up at me, annoyed, his hand splayed on my desk. Knowing it’s burning.
“Sorry.” I widen my eyes at him while holding my hands out.
“You’re a dick.”
“Thank you.” I continue my pacing just to piss him off.
Frustrated, Weeks slams my laptop, closing it.
“Hey, asshole, you break it, you are buying a new one.”
Stretching in the chair, popping his back. “I’ll see if Zion can send it to his guy at the FBI and have him run it for us. Maybe the system is fucked. I don’t know, man,” he says, defeated.
My mind spins, scenarios playing through it.
The thought of someone having been around with Rowan here has me feeling some sort of way.
I know she could protect herself if needed, but I don’t want her to have to.
I want her to feel safe, and if I tell her this, she isn’t going to.
The need to fix this feels heavy on my shoulders.
“Come on, let's have some drinks,” I tell Weeks, leaving the office to make my way downstairs knowing he’ll follow.
I go straight for the hard stuff, fuck a beer, I need liquor.
The music is blaring; I’m playing pretend harmonica to Whiskey Myers' Broken Window Serenade, barely staying on the barstool. It’s weird that my body is numb, but my legs feel heavy all at the same time.
“We’re fucked.” Weeks holds up the Borbon bottle, now empty.
I laugh because, yep; we are. “Shut up; this is my favorite part,” I tell Weeks as the harmonic solo sounds, and I get myself off the stool, acting like a damn fool, but it feels good to not worry about anything for a little while.
As the song ends, I’m rummaging through the refrigerator. “How the hell is someone going to come in here and steal my fucking steaks?”
“Hey assholes!” I spin around, and an enormous man is standing in my living room, Roxy wagging her tail, not making a sound.
“Oh, shit. You’re here. That was fast.” Weeks walks toward him but decides to sit on the step that leads to the living room area.
Fumbling for my cell, I turn off the music blasting through the surround sound speakers. “Hey.” I walk toward who I believe is Zion, trying to walk a straight line, reaching my hand out.
“Luca, this is Zion. Zion, Luca,” Weeks mumbles our introduction.
“Thank you for coming,” I manage to get out. “Sorry, shit's been crazy, and we decided a few shots would work, but now the bottle is gone,” I tell him honestly.
“I was out there for a while, knocking and ringing the doorbell. Your dog doesn’t do a very good job at protecting shit.” He pets Roxy. I’m amazed at how his hand is almost as big as her head. Motherfucker.
“Yeah, we have her just for the looks, apparently.” I motion for him to follow me to the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”
“So, I can be fucked like you two. No thanks. Here for a job.” He looks back at Weeks, who's now slumped over on the step. “Want to point me in the direction? Will already gave me the rundown of what went on. Let me see what I can do.” I like his no shit approach.
“Fair enough.” I lead him outside, showing him the camera, letting him do what he’s good at.
Once back inside, I make coffee, needing to sober up.
Weeks is no longer sitting on the step; he’s MIA probably throwing up. I cackle at the thought.
With my cup full of liquid, I make my way to the living room, paying special attention to the step and my coffee cup.
Passing Lauren’s picture, I can’t help but smile at her wide, beautiful grin. Going from having a sibling to having none is a true mind fuck. I was the protector, the one who was supposed to keep her safe, and now she’s not here and I couldn’t do that.
Breathing deeply, I shake my head to get rid of those thoughts. She’d try to beat my ass if she heard my thoughts. Key word: try. I laugh to myself, knowing she would give it a good run.
Leaning back on the couch, one arm outstretched on the back, I slowly sip my hot coffee, taking in my house, letting my mind run wild with images of kids playing, a full house of our friends, and Rowan.
Fuck, Rowan. Even with my impaired mind, it goes to her.
I want her, need her, and want to watch her at every stage of her life.
I imagine her from who she is now, to the woman carrying my child, to the woman chasing them around our home.
She’s the reason I want to step back from what I do.
Not because I have to, but because I want to.
I’m yanked out of my thoughts when Weeks comes stumbling out of the guest bathroom, looking disheveled and worse for wear.
“You good, Brother?” I laugh out loud. I’m met with a grimace and a bird before he falls next to me on the couch. The smell that wafts from him and to my nose is ungodly. “What the fuck?” Leaning up, not able to get away from him fast enough.
Head falling back, he says, “I’ll have to clean your bathroom tomorrow.”
I look at him like he’s grown a second head, not even wanting to know what that bathroom looks like just from the smell coming from him. I know it isn’t good. “Don’t let Rowan find out.” I chuckle.
He shoos me with his hand. “Will you shut the fuck up? My head is pounding.”
Leaving him be, I decide to see if Zion needs anything. Even in my drunk fog, I still know what is top priority… Rowan and her safety.
The evening air hits me, bringing the smell of pine trees and the cleanliness of the outdoors. I wish I could have everyone smell it. Coming from a city, people never realize how different the open, fresh, non-polluted air is. It’s a luxury, and I want everyone to have it.
Zion sits on the lounger, his enormous laptop open, and all you can hear is his keyboard keys tapping, his hands moving fast.
He looks up at me, hands not slowing, his second nature on the keyboard, panning back down. “I’m going to be real with you. I can’t find how someone could get into your camera system. I can’t even bypass the security you have on it. Whoever set it up knew what they were doing.”
There are only a handful of people who know the ins and outs of the system in my house. One of them isn’t answering his text messages; the others are his team, then me. I stand perplexed.
Zion stares at his screen, shaking his head.
“What you have now is top-notch. I can change them out for you and put my software on it, but I’ll even admit it’s nothing compared to the standards you have now.
Either you’re messing with someone who knows the ins and outs of all security software, or it’s someone in your own backyard.
” His dark brown eyes look at me. “It’s up to you. ”
It's not one of mine; they’d do nothing of the sort, and that I know for a fact. I’d bet my life on it.
“Keeping it, they’ll still be able to bypass the security and do it again. So, what other option do I have than to change it?”
“It’s up to you, but I’m just going to say that if someone got into this one, they’ll definitely be able to get into mine. This isn’t a fluke or someone who doesn’t know their way around hacking into systems.”
Rubbing my hands down my face in exasperation, “Just keep it, then.” I grunt out. Having him come out was a waste of fucking time. I’m pissed off, not at him but at myself.
Zion closes his laptop. “Can I tell you something?” Standing up, he looks at me with seriousness. “If I were you, I’d take her from here until you can figure out who did it. Because they will not stop.”
My coming up job and my not being around scare the shit out of me. I can’t leave her here, not even with Weeks. Whoever did this, they’re not stupid. They’re biding their time.
“No, you’re right.”
“Be vigilant. That’s the only thing I can give you. Don’t let your guard down.” He shrugs his shoulders, not having anything to say or do anymore.
Holding out my hand, we shake. “Sorry you wasted your time coming out here.”
“Ahh, don’t worry about it. I was paid well.”
Eyebrows raised, “Who paid you?”
“Ole drunk tank in there.” Damn Weeks.
Laughing, he hands me his card. “If you ever need anything, call me. I’ll see my way out.”
Forgoing the back door, he makes his way around the house, all the while my mind is running a million miles a minute.
This could be anyone. I’ve pissed so many people off in my lifetime that the possibilities are endless.
I’m not sure where to have her stay. I know she doesn’t care for the funeral home, and I can’t blame her. Damian and Soleil occupied the apartment above the gym. And then it hits me: the apartment at the coffee shop.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, my fingers flying to press Damian’s number, he answers within two rings.
“Hey.” His voice is laced with joy, and that makes my heart happy.
“Are you still renting the apartment above the coffee shop?” I don’t make pleasantries.
“No, I let that go a while back. Why?”
I groan. “Fuck, never mind.” He can tell the conversation is done by my tone.
“Don’t you dare hang up. What’s up? What’s going on?”
“Shit’s been going on around here, and I need a safe place for Rowan to stay until my last job is done. I leave out in a few days, and I can’t risk her being in danger.” I don’t talk loudly, just in case.
I can tell he stands up and walks out of whatever room he was in by the way it gets quiet on his side. “Luca.” The way he says my name is telling me to cut the shit. He thinks of Rowan as his family, too.
I give him the rundown on everything happening and what we learned today by Zion coming out, as well as the camouflaged hut we found.