Mr. Harlan plucks it from his laptop but doesn’t hand it over. “You’re upset. I think if you take a moment to think about this, you’ll understand. This confession should go to the police.”
“I’ll make sure it does when the time comes,” I promise.
“Sofia,” Mr. Harlan begins, doing his best to seem sympathetic while hanging on to the evidence.
“Please,” I say, putting all my heartache into the word. “I only want to see my brother’s killer brought to justice.”
Harlan sighs, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. He’s acting like a teenager who’s just been handed the answers to his final exam. He doesn’t want to relinquish control, and he’s worried that he won’t get it back. He thinks that video is the answer to all his prayers, and a way to provide even more value for the scum he’s working for. But I’m not leaving without the drive.
I stretch my hand out again, and this time he passes it over. I can see he’s unhappy about it, but I don’t care. Now my thoughts shift to getting out of the office as quickly as possible. I rise to my feet, forcing myself to concentrate so I don’t seem too eager.
“I appreciate you looking at this,” I say, sliding the drive into my pocket. “It means a lot that you’re here to support both me and Danny.”
“Anything I can do to help,” the slimy serpent says.
I hate him with every fiber of my being now. The fact that he can sit there and say such a thing to me, knowing that he’s involved in my brother’s death, is a blow to the gut. I inhale deeply to find my calm. I can’t accuse him of anything right now. I need to get out of here and back to the car.
“I’ll let you know whether I can come back to work,” I promise.
“Don’t think too long,” he warns me.
“I’ll give you my answer in the morning,” I say.
I take the opportunity to leave, hoping that he won’t follow me. I set my shoulders, walking through the bullpen at a normal clip even though I wish I could run. I make it back to the elevator without anyone chasing me. I ride down in silence, knowing there are cameras watching my every move.
I wave to the guard on my way out, hoping this is the last time. I walk across the streets, my legs feeling like jelly. I climb back into the car before letting out my frustration in a stream of curses.
Frankie and Gio sit there listening to me go off. After a moment, Gio laughs and Frankie tries hard not to. I dig into my pocket and pull out the flash drive. Handing it back to Gio, I buckle my seatbelt.
“Let’s go,” I snap.
“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie teases.
He pulls away from the curb and speeds off into the city, leaving the office of that sinister culprit far behind. The more space we put between us and the newspaper, the better I feel.
“So,” Frankie says after a few minutes, “what happened?”
“He didn’t believe that you would confess to me that you work for your father,” I report. Gio looks over at Frankie, and I can see some kind of secret exchange taking place. I decide to nip that in the bud. “I told him that I tricked you and that you still have feelings for me.”
That shuts Frankie up. He scowls at the road and doesn’t say anything else until we arrive at my apartment.
Gio gets out of the car and leans back in to talk to Frankie. “I have to tell your father what we’ve been up to.”
“I can do that,” Frankie offers.
Gio looks at me and then back at Frankie, “We’ll talk later,” he says simply. “Sofia. Glad you’re on our side.”
My heart warms to hear something so sweet, though I don’t really consider myself on his side. But he’s trying to tell me I did an excellent job and that I would make a formidable opponent. I take that as a compliment and nod my thanks.
Gio walks around Frankie’s car to another vehicle parked a few cars away. He gets in and drives off, leaving Frankie and me alone. I put my head back against the headrest and just sit there for a moment. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, like puzzle pieces inside a box. I don’t know where to go from here, or what the implications are for what I’ve done.
Frankie gets out and holds my door open. I’m reminded of the early days of our relationship where he never let me open my own door. I feel nostalgic for those times, and wonder if we’re ever going to be able to repair our fleeting romance.
I climb out and fall right into his arms. He’s not expecting it, but that’s okay. He releases the door and puts his hands on my shoulders. Holding me tight, he makes me feel safe. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to be held. All this time I’ve been on my own, running from enemies both imaginary and real. It’s nice to know that I’m not alone, but I’m not ready to be a part of a couple yet.
“Let me walk you to your door,” Frankie says, tugging me far enough away from the car so he can close the back door safely.
I don’t argue, letting him steer me up the stairs and down the hall. He waits as I put the key in the lock and then insists on going inside first to make sure it’s safe.
