Chapter Two #3
And, well, I maybe took a little shortcut, shaving off five minutes Padfoot and I would usually take, stopping off at the local coffee shop for something to keep me going before heading home.
I tried convincing myself that it was because I didn't want to waste Nixon's time, that I wanted to get ahead of this thing before it spiraled out of control.
Tried, being the operative word.
When the door swung back open, I found Savea standing in the kitchen, the front of my tee tucked into her pants, giving her a bit more shape, her hair a little neater. Well, as neat as it could be with as much of it as she had.
Nixon had his back to me, leaning over the counter, a mug cradled between his hands.
"That was quick," Savea said with a small smile as I unhooked Padfoot.
"Were you a good boy?" she asked, leaning down to cradle the dog's head.
"Yes, I bet you were. Don't tell Daddy, but I'm giving you a liver treat.
I found them stashed in a drawer in the bedroom," she added, not looking the least bit guilty about snooping.
"Come on, buddy. Yes, good boy," she called as she disappeared.
Nixon turned, brow quirked up, lips curled into a smirk. Like he knew something.
But there was nothing to know.
"What?" I asked, moving into the kitchen.
"Nothing. Nothing at all. I just come in and Savvy is in your clothes, walking around your kitchen making me coffee, knowing where the liver treats are kept..."
"She showed up here after running around the streets in the rain, so she needed dry clothes. I made her coffee after she got changed. She watched. And the liver snacks, well, she snoops," I said with a small smile.
"Yeah, mhmm," he agreed, nodding.
"I'm not screwing around with a close family friend."
"Why not?"
"What do you mean 'why not?' It's a bad idea."
"Come on," he said as Savea demanded Padfoot do a series of tricks in the other room for his treat.
"Come on what?"
"Like you don't know how she looks at you at Sunday dinners."
"What the hell are you talking about? She doesn't look at me like anything."
"Oh, fuck off with that. She used to look at us all the same way. Back when she first met us. Those big puppy dog, high school girl crush eyes. But over the years, it stopped being about my grumpy ass or Atlas or Rush's playboy asses. And she suddenly only had puppy-dog eyes for you."
"You don't know what you're talking about," I said, shaking my head.
Even if I could let myself believe it, believe in the possibilities of it, it wasn't something that could happen. Girls like Savea, they didn't end up with men like me.
She was a good kid, raised by a good family, had a nice, fitting job, never stepped a toe out of line except when friends like Peyton forcefully dragged her over them.
Girls like her didn't end up with guys like me. Ex-criminals who just barely skirted on the right side of the law even now, guys who thrived on adrenaline rushes, who spent most of his life out of the line.
"You know, you can't be a monk forever. It's not fucking healthy," he added with a brow raise as he moved to stand when we heard Savvy coming back out.
"I can feed him if you tell me where the food is."
"In the fridge," I invited. "I am trying out one of those by-the-mail cooked meal things for him in the morning."
"But still the raw stuff at night, right?" she asked, looking stricken at the idea that I had possibly changed the diet she told me was best for him.
"Yeah, he's still on that. He just likes variety," I explained, all too aware of Nixon's eagle eyes on this whole conversation.
Of all my brothers, Nixon was the one most likely to get on my case about shit. The second oldest next to me, he was the hardest of all of us, the one who had a rougher time adjusting to coming out of the criminal family business, going straight, the one who didn't sugarcoat anything.
Whereas Atlas and Rush were too busy being younger, chasing skirts, having too much fun to butt their noses into my life, Nixon didn't have much going on outside of work, so he and I hung around with each other the most. And as anyone with siblings knew, the closer you were with them, the more likely they were to poke at you.
"Savvs was filling me in on what happened last night," Nixon said, cutting into the silence of the room—save for the sounds of Savea unpacking Padfoot's meal. "What is the plan for today?"
"I was thinking about checking out the store's security cameras," I supplied. "If they're working," I added, watching as Savea turned, finished.
"They work," she confirmed with a nod. "They're about forty years old and everyone is grainy, but they work."
"Maybe we will catch some voices, names... no?" I asked as her head shook.
"They don't have sound. I know," she added when Nixon and I shared a look.
"Believe me, I know. I even tried to talk Harry into buying one of the cheap systems you can get at Costco to upgrade everything.
But he claims there is no money for frivolous things like that since there has never been any kind of crime at the store since it opened before I was even born. "
"Alright, well, maybe we will catch a plate or something that we can have run," I said, shrugging.
"Or find your no-good boss and get information out of him," Nixon added.
"I'm coming, right?" she asked, looking down at her outfit with a grimace.
"I don't..." I started.
"I have to check on the animals!" she nearly shrieked, making both Nixon and I straighten.
"Babe, you were just there a few hours ago," Nixon reminded her. "They're fine."
"They need cage changes and water and food refills."
"Okay, okay. Look, we will all go. You will stay in the car with Nixon. If all is fine when I go in, then you can come in and take care of the animals. But you can't just... go back to work, sweetheart. They know you were there. It's not safe."
"What if you don't find them? What if this goes on? The store can't just stay closed indefinitely."
"No," I agreed. "But if this goes on longer than I planned, we can work something out.
One of my brothers or I will be there with you.
Or maybe even one of the Mallicks," I said, meaning my brothers-in-law, the loan sharks and enforcers.
"Someone will be there to protect you until we unravel this.
But I am hoping it gets cleared up quickly. "
"You can't go home either, obviously," Nixon supplied. "We can maybe pick some of your stuff up, move it in here temporarily."
My stern look only got a smirk from the bastard.
"Oh, I can't... I can't put King out like that," she said, shaking her head. "I could, I don't know, crash with Jamie or Peyton..."
"They work," Nixon went on. "I don't think Kingston—or any of us—would be comfortable with you hanging out in their empty apartments by yourself. You'd be safest here."
She would be just as safe at any of the Mallicks' houses. And I should have spoken up, said that. But my lips couldn't seem to find the words.
"I'm already asking so much..."
"You haven't asked for anything. And I'm offering," I supplied, pretending to ignore Nixon's victorious smile.
He wasn't normally a matchmaker, a life meddler. I didn't know what was going on with him, but we were going to have some words when there weren't ears around.
But, from the sound of things, ears were going to be around for a while.
And I maybe liked the idea of that a little too much.
"I will, ah, make myself useful," she insisted. "Take care of Padfoot. Cook. Clean. Oh, I can maybe help you in the office. Everyone is always saying how much work you have to do. I can help. I can..."
"You don't have to earn your keep, Savvy," I cut her off. I'm... we're happy to help you. Your clothes are in the dryer in the hall closet if you want to get changed before we go."
Twenty minutes later, we were all situated inside Howie's, Nixon and I reviewing tapes, looking for any evidence out back while Savea darted around with a sort of calm, yet hurried, efficiency.
Cleaning cages, filling water, supplying food, cleaning filters, letting the cats and birds that were boarding out for a little exercise.
"If they killed him," Nixon started, voice low. He might have been a bit of a callous ass at times, but he had a soft spot for the girls in the extended sort of family circle. "It wasn't here. There's not enough blood."
"Yeah." There were dried spots in the back near the door and one small puddle, one that looked a lot like someone who had lost a tooth and spat out the blood. If we looked, I bet we would find an off-white bit of molar with the shriveled, bloody roots still attached hidden under a shelf.
But if he hadn't been killed, the question was... where was he?
"There," Nixon said, stabbing the screen as the back doors opened, revealing the three dark figures and the man they were pushing around.
"Savea hadn't been exaggerating." The footage was the worst I had ever seen. And I had seen video from fifteen-dollar cameras bought online and hooked up. You could barely tell one body from another, let alone make out any features.
"Nope. But they left him alive," Nixon added after fast-forwarding the video to when the men returned after having scared the crap out of Savvy, going at Harry for another few minutes before one leaned threateningly over him, likely issuing a stiff warning, then all of them heading out to the back lot, parked just far enough back that you couldn't see makes let alone plates.
Alone, Harry rolled to his side, spitting onto the floor, pushing up on all fours, hand pressing into his ribs as he slowly got to his feet. He gathered his pride, managed to unpin the back doors, and disappeared outside into his car.
Where he went was anyone's guess.
Home, I hoped.
Where I could access him, figure out what he had gotten into, find a way to get Savea off these guys' radar.
"You have to get her settled first," Nixon said, reading my mind.