Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance(178)

But I can’t take the chance that he’ll be released and I won’t be here.

I feel responsible, like I’m the one who dragged him into this. After all, it was my father’s journal which led us to that field in the first place. I could have just left Leon out of it, investigated the case on my own. Or at least, I could have tried. But I know, deep down, he would have found his way into it, anyway. There’s no chance he would have been able to keep out of it. He knew my father. He knows more about this whole mysterious, shady situation than I could ever know. I need his help. I need him.

So I wait, dutifully. Luckily I’m dressed in pretty comfortable clothes: a flowy gray blouse, dark jeans, and my most comfortable shoes, which are still kitten heels. That’s definitely going to have to change pretty soon. I need to update my wardrobe to reflect the lifestyle I’ve fallen into back here in Bayonne. I’m not strutting Park Avenue anymore. I’m sneaking around warehouses, tromping through a field of unmarked graves, and riding on the back of a dangerous man’s motorcycle.

It’s probably high time for me to invest in a good pair of sneakers.

Good thing I’m always over-prepared. It’s a trait of mine that my New York friends used to tease me for — the fact that my purse was always packed with anything I could possibly need in a pinch. Band-aids, breath mints, small pair of scissors, tape, mini sewing kit, always an extra toothbrush and travel-size toothpaste, face wipes, over-the-counter pain medication, an extra phone charger, and more. It’s something I picked up during my long commutes back when I lived on Staten Island when I first moved out and couldn’t afford to live in the city yet. When it takes you literally hours to get back home during an emergency, you start to realize how important it is to be mobile, to be prepared no matter how far you are from home.

So as I’m sitting in the police station, I’ve got my phone hooked up and charging so I can entertain myself and do some lowkey research. It’s been an oddly productive activity, and I can’t wait to share what I’ve learned with Leon. An hour ago I made a trek to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face before returning to my little stakeout in the lobby. I’m prepared to live in this police station until they finally release Leon and the others. Secretarial shifts have changed multiple times, and each one of them has given me the same incredulous, somewhat-annoyed look. But now the girl who was working the desk when I first got here has returned again and she outright laughs when she walks in and sees me still here.

“We’re gonna have to start charging you rent,” she jokes as she swishes by to take her spot at the front desk. She’s young and pretty, a brunette with round granny glasses and a pencil skirt. She looks more like a librarian than a cop jockey.

“Got more amenities than most of the apartments I could afford back in New York,” I reply, shrugging. The secretary smiles.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “Have you eaten anything since you first showed up?”

“Well, it depends on whether you consider vending machine snacks ‘food’ or not,” I answer with a laugh, sitting up straight and setting my phone down to stretch my legs out.

She grimaces, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, ew. No, that won’t do. I’ll order us some sandwiches or something. At this point, you’ve been here more than I have in the past day or so, and at least I’m getting paid for it.”

It’s nice to see that my quiet persistence has won her over. Because even though I’ve been here forever, I haven’t made a scene or caused any trouble — which is more than can be said for most of the people who probably come in here. So the secretary, who introduces herself as Janet, orders us both turkey subs from across the street. I scarf mine down in record time, realizing just how starved I am. We sit and joke back and forth with each other, passing the time until finally, at long last, an officer emerges with Leon in tow.

My heart leaps for joy in my chest and I can feel my whole body light up at the sight of him. When he sees me, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and that adorable half-smile appears on his face. He looks so exhausted and burned out from hours and hours of interrogation, but I figure if they’re bringing him out now, they must not have gotten what they were looking for. They are letting him go! He’s free! For now, at least.

But something in his eyes tells me this isn’t over yet, not by a long shot. Leon looks like he’s seen and heard some terrible things in the past twenty-four hours or so. I want nothing more than to rush over to him and throw my arms around him. I want to kiss the sadness out of his face and take him back out into the sunshine. Except, I realize with a glance at the clock on the wall, the sun is already going down by now. Both of us have spent all our daylight hours cooped up in this station, though I expect his stay was considerably less comfy than mine.