Cale’s in bed by the time I get home just after ten. The apartment is dark and quiet, except for the faint sounds of the TV coming from his bedroom.
Dean’s sitting in the living room with the Tribune spread across his outstretched legs. The lamp in the corner is the only thing on.
“Don’t you need more light?” I ask.
He pulls in his legs and starts folding up the paper. “No, this is fine.”
Following me into my room, he leans against the doorway as I lay the garment bag for my suit on my bed and place the jacket and tie over it. Kicking off my shoes, I return them to the bag too.
“How’d your dinner go?” Dean asks quietly.
“Long.” I unbutton the dress shirt and toss it in my hamper, freeing my arms for the first time in a couple hours. “Did I ever tell you I got offered a job at Tranidek?”
“No! When did that happen?” His bright white teeth contrast with his olive skin.
“Last week. I met with the CEO of the company—the one who’s paying my bills.” I rummage through my dresser and pull out clothes for bed. “He wants me to help develop software for the solar roadways that’s better than Wyatt’s. They want to cut a deal with Wyatt and install at least some of the new roadways.”
“Oh damn. So you’d be jumping ship.”
I nod. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“How did you manage to meet the CEO?”
Shrugging, I say, “His assistant called me. Said Mr. Rizzoli wanted to speak with me personally.”
“Rizzoli?” Dean stiffens up. “What’s his first name?”
“Frank. Why, do you know him?”
“Frank Rizzoli?” His voice jumps.
I shoot him a look. “Yeah, why?”
“Oh, Ethan,” he says in a hushed voice.
“Does this have to do with Michael Bello? He was there tonight too.”
Fear spreads across his face. “This is not good.”
“I know.”
He shakes his head. “No, if you think Bello is dangerous, Rizzo doesn’t even compare.”
“Rizzo? What are you talking about?”
“Just trust me.”
I shake my head. “Enough. If you expect me to trust you—and to let you stay here—you need to tell me more than that.”
The floor suddenly fascinates him and he studies it. Just as I’m about to forget it and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, he speaks up.
“You’re right. But what I’m about to tell you is serious.”
Absently, I look at the scar on my right arm. “And mine isn’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So what are you saying?”
“A couple years ago I got into it with my father. He threw me out and I . . . I had nowhere to go. Broke, living on the streets. I was begging people for food, scaring them off because I hadn’t taken a shower in weeks.”
I divert my eyes, feeling like my life has been spoiled compared to his. Who am I kidding? My life was spoiled compared to his. That is, if he’s telling the truth. But for whatever reason, I let him talk. I can’t explain it, but I trust him.
“One man took me in,” he continues. “James Alexander. Brought me into his home. Let me shower, gave me a fresh set of clothes and a nice hot meal. I was so grateful that I wanted to repay him somehow.”
My mind races with the millions of things he could’ve done, but somehow I know.
“It started with small things. Wait for someone on the corner of Sherman and West Streets to get a package and bring it back home. Or pick up some guy from a random address. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, but I guess I was a good worker.”
I have so many questions: Who were some of these men? Didn’t he consider telling the police? What about trying to patch things up with his father? Is he still in touch with these men now? Are they the ones he’s hiding from? Are they going to come after me and Cale if they find him? Will Cale end up like Emma?
Instead, I seal my lips and let him continue. It takes a minute, but he does.
“Things escalated. One of the men I was picking up was gunned down as he was getting in the car. Blood splattered all over. Inside the car, all over me. I was scared, so I drove off. Jamie was pissed. Said I should’ve ditched the car somewhere and gotten the blood off me and my clothes.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
He shakes his head. “They called Frank, who told me to take care of it or it could be trouble for me.”
“Frank Rizzoli?”
He nods.
“How involved is he?” Maybe that’s why Mr. Rizzoli is interested in me switching to Tranidek. Does he know about my ability? Does he know that Emma and I are the ones who witnessed the drive-by? That we saw the driver? Was I completely surrounded this evening by the men who are responsible for Emma’s attack?
Finally, Dean meets my eyes. “I told you he was a dangerous man.”
“So . . . are you still . . . involved?” My heart races. Is Dean their spy? He didn’t need a place to stay until shortly after Emma was attacked.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” I ask without realizing it.
He shakes his head. “I’m not lying to you, Ethan.”
I take a deep breath to try to calm my nerves. “How’d you get out?”
He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again. A moment later he says, “Not right now, okay? One thing at a time. It wasn’t the best time in my life. I’d rather not be up all night thinking about it.”
“Oh okay. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I mean it. It’s not your problem.”
“Are we safe here?”
He nods. “Yeah. Nobody knows I’m here.”
“Are they at your apartment?”
He nods. “It has to do with them, yeah.”
“I thought you were scoping it out today?”
He nods. “I did. Still not safe there.”
Again, my mind creates so many scenarios of what the rest of the story entails. He must’ve ditched them somehow. But these men aren’t idiots. Dean didn’t move that far away. Despite what he said, the Martellis must know that he’s here.
The bigger question is, if Dean was out, why all of a sudden is it a problem that he’s still breathing?
I disappear to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face before bed. I’m hoping my evening routine will help me relax, but I’m still too wound up by the time I return.
Dean’s made up his bed on the couch. I feel bad that he doesn’t have a more comfortable place to sleep—especially since he told me he used to live on the streets, not to mention everything he’s probably been through with the Martellis—but short of him sharing my bed, we’re fresh out of options.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I say, lingering behind the couch, “but if you were sort of involved with everything—”
“Not everything. Very basic stuff. I never wanted to be in the business. It was just the cards I was dealt at the time.”
“Okay.” I glance over at Cale’s door. The sound of the TV is still present. “Did you work with Bello?”
He sits up and rests his muscular arms on the back of the couch. “Do you really want to know?”
I keep my eyes on Cale’s door. For all I know, Dean could’ve done the same thing to other girls. People do stupid things when they’re stuck in a bad spot.
“No,” he says with a sigh. “The family did. I knew him. Called him Uncle Mike for a while, out of respect, but I never had anything to do with his side of the business.”
I suck in my bottom lip and refuse to look him in the eyes. “I want to kill him.”
Dean shakes his head. “Even if we do, that’s not going to stop the next Emma from getting hurt, you know? The show will still go on, no matter who’s the capo of Hopman.”
“So how do we make sure there aren’t any more Emmas?”
“I think you’re fighting a losing battle, to be honest.” He lies back down.
“Maybe so, but I’m equipped with something they’re not expecting.”
I have to focus on what I can do. With the suit Wes made, I’m able to control the lightning impulses better. If nothing else, I can scare people. Isn’t that what the Martellis are doing? Scaring people with threats? The only difference is, I’ll be doing it to protect people, not make money.
“You’re going to get yourself shot if you don’t run faster.”
I finally look down at him. “That’s what my trainer is supposed to be working on.” I force a quick smile. “He might not have personally put her in the hospital, but it doesn’t make him any less responsible. Same goes for whoever’s above him.”
“Rizzo.”
I didn’t realize he was that high up in the crime family. “The whole thing needs to go.”
He sits up again. “Let me get this straight: You think that you can personally take down the mob?”
“Well, no. I’d need help. Which is where you come in.” My face flashes red again. I’m asking him to betray the people who took him in when he was at his worst. But as good as these people once were to him, they’re still bad people. They still beat and rape innocent women for witnessing something they know nothing about. He’s gotta see it that way too.
Dean sighs. “Not the whole mob. It’s not necessary. Not really. You take out parts—from a business standpoint. Killing their leaders doesn’t do much, even if you could get to them. You need to take away the way they make money without letting it be known that it was you. After that, just stand back and watch as the whole empire implodes.”
Wow. He’s thought about this before. “So Michael Bello, what’s his deal?”
He shrugs. “I’m not positive, but from what I’ve heard, it was mostly human trafficking.”
My eyes bulge. “Really?”
“Not like child labor, although sometimes, yes. I’m talking prostitution. Single mothers, broke college students. They start them off small, like they did me, and then . . . ”
Images of women and children being abused like Emma fill my mind. I need to think of something else if I’m going to get a good night’s sleep. Judging from the monster yawn he lets out, Dean clearly has had enough of this conversation too. It’s well after eleven by now.
I step toward my room, pausing in the doorway. I don’t know how I’m going to free my mind enough to let me slip into sleep tonight. If Dean trusts me with his secrets, I should be able to trust him with mine. Especially if he’s going to help me with the Martellis. Maybe even talk to Alex or Wes about what I’m capable of so we can come up with a better plan.
That is, if Alex has had a change of heart. Maybe once this capo thing is over she’ll relax. Still, it’d be a shame not to use my ability—and that awesome suit—for something useful.
I turn and face him again. “Hey, Dean?”
“Mmm?” he grumbles without sitting up.
“Do you have any plans tomorrow?”
“Just kicking your ass at the gym, why?”
“I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
Yeah, I definitely think this is the right choice. I’m actually looking forward to telling him more about what I’ve been doing. So few people know. It’ll be good to bring someone else into the mix.
If the clinic wasn’t in the worst part of the city, Dean would’ve made us run here. I guess I still need to strengthen my core and build up my speed and stamina. Even with the extensive stretches he had me do, talking and running at the gym this morning proved to be impossible. It’s going to be a long road. Still, it’s faster than I was a month ago.
Instead, we’re whizzing down Wilkinson Avenue on the back of Dean’s Ducati. It’s not made for two people. I thought I could ride on the back, but I discover quickly that without the anticipation of going after a rapist, I’m pretty terrified of motorcycles.
As Dean takes off from the parking garage, I nearly fall flat on my back on the pavement. Suddenly he becomes my new best friend, and I cling to him to stay on the bike. The helmet helps squash any embarrassment I have from riding bitch.
When we come to a stop behind the clinic building, I’m grateful to be standing still.
“So whatcha think?” Dean asks with a smirk. It was his idea to take the bike out. Apparently he’s not a fan of the often sardine-like experience of the subway. Then again, who is?
“Ask me again when my brain catches up.”
He laughs and I lead him inside.
Debbie, the receptionist, begins to tell me to take a seat and wait for the doctor, but Alex intercepts her.
“It’s all right,” she says. “They can come back.” She leads us behind the desk into her cramped office. Folders packed with files are stacked everywhere among coffee cups and various medical equipment. “I didn’t realize you two were so close.”
“He’s been working with me at the gym to get me in better shape.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Bigger muscles aren’t going to stop a bullet.”
Desperate to avoid a lecture, I ask, “Is Wes here?”
“Yeah, let me get him.” She casts a suspicious look at Dean. “Where do you want to meet him?”
“Uh, downstairs. That’s kind of why we’re here.”
She doesn’t say anything, but takes a deep breath to show her disapproval.
I lead Dean down to the basement, flipping on the lights at the bottom of the stairs, and cross the room to boot up the computer.
“This is what I’ve been using as a safe place for my abilities, so keep it quiet.” I pull the suit out of my backpack and fold it up on the table beside the computer.
He looks around and takes a seat in the computer chair beside me. “Wouldn’t it be safer at your place?”
“Maybe, but Alex and Wes have been studying my condition here for a while now. They know what is and isn’t normal for me.”
“So this is where you go when you do all your research?”
I nod. “I was looking up stuff about crime families here when I should’ve just been talking to you.”
Dean gives a half-hearted grin.
Wes’s voice grows louder as he approaches the top of the stairs, and Dean and I sit up straighter, anticipating his entry.
“Mr. Pierce, how are you?” he asks as he descends the stairs. “Dr. Fletcher said you brought a friend.”
“This is Dean.”
After they shake hands and exchange pleasantries, I turn our attention to the suit.
“I brought it back. Thought maybe it’d be better than starting from scratch.”
“Good. How are your shocks?”
“The suit is helping, but I need to use them.”
Dean looks between the two of us, confused. I make a mental note to fill him in later.
“Have you found a safe place to release them? Maybe the solar plant.”
I shake my head. “What if I overload the grid and black out the whole city?”
Wes picks up the suit and examines the electrodes inside. “I wouldn’t worry about that. The city creates enough energy to power the whole metro area. A lot of the energy is actually sent across the state.”
“Right. I’ll have to give it a try.” That is, if I ever stop using them to play hero. I wonder how long I can go without releasing the energy. Probably not long. Especially if I don’t want to shock every person I come in contact with.
“How soon do you think you can get the new suit ready?”
He glances up at me. “Are you in a rush to use it?”
“Actually, maybe.”
His brow furrows. “I’ll do it as quick as I can, but I’d rather work out as many kinks as possible before I give it back to you. Everything we’re doing here is unprecedented.”
“Right. Okay.”
Dean watches as Wes continues to eye me. “What are your intentions with this suit?”
“I…uh…nothing.”
“Smooth,” Dean mutters.
Wes looks at him and then back to me, still confused. “Mr. Pierce, what’s going on?”
“You know what happened the first time I wore the suit?” I don’t want to voice it again. Everybody knows. I don’t need the looks of pity.
He nods.
“It was the Martelli family. I can’t let it go.”
Wes sighs and leans against the edge of the table. “You have to be careful with them. Even if I didn’t think it was a smart idea last time, I understood why you had to go. But this? It seems like you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Where it doesn’t belong?” I shout. “They went after her because we saw one of their men shoot someone on the street! Both of us! They’ve already come after me. Remember that? Right outside. This time they got her. It’s only a matter of time before I’m the target again. I just need to beat them to the punch.”
Both of them are quiet. I wonder if Dean is ever going to speak up. He probably wouldn’t here. That’s not to say he doesn’t have his opinions.
And I can tell Wes is choosing his words carefully before he speaks. “Again, it’s your choice. I’m just voicing my hesitations.”
I’m breathing heavily, trying to calm myself down. These people care about me. That’s all Wes is saying. I need to at least hear him out.
“I appreciate your concern, but this is something I have to do. Will you help me?”
He’s quiet a moment longer. “Promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That once you fulfill your mission, you’ll be done.” His eyes bore into me. “Grief and guilt can make people do stupid things. There’s a fine line between justice and vengeance.”
My mission? Take down the Martelli family. For now, at least. I have a chance to make a difference. To make sure this doesn’t happen to any other girls. That’s a job bigger than one man can do. My mission might never be fulfilled.
“Yes, I promise.”