Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
A week and a half passed before Laila was given clearance to remove her sling long enough to drive to and from work. Now, she paced around the cabin’s kitchen adjusting her sling and packing her lunch for her first shift back, her duties at the store limited to serving at the cigarette counter.
Willing her parents to arrive to watch Whitney, where they would take her for a sleepover at their safehouse for a small break from the confines of this safehouse, she glanced out the living room window. Ramos sat in her peripheral vision, cross-legged on the floor, helping Whit put together a forty-eight-piece puzzle.
He, too, had a work thing to leave for. As usual, something secretive, though in this case, her lack of knowledge was partly her fault. Every time his stare caught hers, she’d look away. An unfair habit she’d formed since learning about Mike’s secret family. One she struggled to break.
The wind had been knocked right out of her ability to fully engage with others, especially Ramos, since he was the closest thing to Mike. Again, an unfair comparison, but then grief and trauma weren’t always all that logical.
So, now she was trapped in a loop of constantly trying to open up to Ramos, while battling a renewed need to keep every heartbroken or inconvenient emotion to herself.
“Mommy’s too sad lately.”
Whitney’s small voice jolted Laila from her thoughts, though the child had likely read whatever far-off expression Laila currently held. Her heart strained and she snapped her attention to her daughter, Whit’s lower lip pouted in a frown.
Though she moved to comfort her daughter, Ramos got there first. “Everyone gets sad sometimes. Mommies too. Sometimes we all just need a little time to figure out our feelings.”
Ramos turned his gaze to her, the steadfast look in his eyes speaking volumes. As much as he didn’t deserve her shutting him out, he somewhat understood her reasons why.
She tilted her head to one side and offered an appreciative nod.
“Adrian’s right.” She crouched down beside Whitney and cupped her child’s face. “And even if I am a little sad, sad feelings don’t make me love you any less. In fact, when I am sad, guess who makes me happiest of all?”
Whitney’s eyes lit up, as did her smile, those gappy teeth of hers working their magic on Laila’s mood. “Me?”
“Yah betcha.” Laila leaned in and gave Whit some kisses on her cheeks, nose, and forehead. “Every single time, Baby Girl.”
Whitney flopped forward and embraced her mother, her little head coming to rest on her chest. Meanwhile, Laila lifted her focus to Ramos, reaching out to press her hand to his cheek. Her first bit of physical contact with him in over a week. “We’ll have a talk when we’re both done with work, okay?”
He gave her an understanding nod. She gave Whitney one last kiss. The shuddering metallic sound of the garage opening announced her parents’ arrival, and she joined Ramos in standing.
Maybe she didn’t know a great deal about him or his work, but she did know he was nothing like Mike. Ramos showed up for her time and time again, and in ways Mike never had. That alone deserved some of her trust. Or at least a second chance.
Her parents knocked at the front door, and she moved to let them in, only for Adrian to catch her hand and spin her toward him. While she remained startled, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, melting away days of tension.
“I should be back before you return. I’m looking forward to that talk.”
Around midnight, Adrian pulled his car over in front of a small cabin across state lines in North Dakota. His heart beat rapidly as he positioned the vehicle to remain concealed along the edge of some woods.
The outside world carried no signs of human life, just the incessant chirp of night insects. Keeping his movements as silent as possible, he cracked his door open and snuck closer to the property’s perimeter, searching for a decent vantage point and somewhere to hide.
This was an unauthorized visit, a risk he took based on an unreliable tip-off. His skin prickled at the expanse of land between the cabin and the road. Plenty of open space for him to get caught, but with a small ornamental garden located yards from the front porch and a leafy lattice wall that could work as a barrier between him and whoever might be inside.
His protectiveness over Laila and Whitney had kept him from this investigation long enough, while another part of him feared he might succeed at cracking this small piece of the syndicate puzzle. If the syndicate fell, so did his reasons for being in town. With the shaky ground he already stood on with Laila, there seemed nowhere the relationship would go after that.
But he needed to put his personal reasons aside for the good of everyone. So here he was, huddled against a floral archway and focused on his job, searching for any signs that might put this whole awful ordeal to rest.
A set of cream curtains sat open in the front-window, the cabin’s interior holding an expected sense of country-comfort. The egg-shell blue walls held many landscape paintings, those walls also lined with a couple of dark wood shelves stacked with books and decorative ceramics. Though his far-off position kept him from seeing much, if he were lucky, someone would walk past, and he would get confirmation his journey today hadn’t been wasted.
That said, if confirmation took too long, he would have to risk venturing even closer. While he waited, he chanced a look at the driveway and double-checked there were no cars. Not that that meant much. The place had a double garage, but the lights on inside were a good indication he would get what he’d come for, despite the discomfort of cold nipping at his face. He would wait. Hours if he had to.
But just as that possibility crossed his mind, a man with a close-shaven head stepped into view inside. Someone who looked familiar. But not his target. This man stopped to peer through the window, his dark gaze sweeping over the world outside. Currently Adrian’s world. Ramos held still, his hand instinctively dropping to his unclipped gun on his hip holster.
The man inside lifted his hands, grabbing the curtain’s inner edges as though set to tug them closed, his focus still set on the yard. Just then, his stare locked onto Ramos. His hands paused. As did the rest of him. Though Ramos’s pulse thudded loud in his ears, this man seemed to take a moment, as if weighing what to do.
Adrian didn’t want to be the first to start a gunfight. Not when he was yet to spot his target. But the man before him was at least good enough at his job to have been looking for, and spotted, Ramos. So, maybe there would be no choice on that matter.
More seconds passed and the man kept his hands high and in plain view. A good sign that got even better as he tilted his chin upward in an admission that Ramos’s intel had been correct.
Mark’s men were tired of being pulled into his blood wars.
They sought to make a sacrifice.
The man inside dropped his hands and turned, leaving the curtains agape in an open invitation for Ramos to keep on looking. Within minutes another figure strode past the window. A man with thick, brown wavy hair and distinctive blue eyes. The man Adrian had come in search of.
Mark Farro.