Page 96 of Until You

And yet I’m still terrified he will.

Paranoia has taken over my life in the three weeks since I received that phone call. And it increases with each and every phone call I receive on the burner cell phone that is currently stored inside one of my many designer handbags. Handbags that are amassed in my own private closet with my designer shoes and dresses.

I know he’ll never find it, but that doesn’t mean that every time Kaleo looks at me too long, every time he asks who I’m texting on my personal cell phone, or where I’m going when I leave the house with his driver, I worry that he knows. I fear that he suspects.

I worry that I’ll be next.

“Fuck,” he bellows, followed by the slam of something on the marble counter just as I walk into the kitchen. I bite back a yelp as his cell goes flying into the wall beside me.

But Kaleo is so lost in his rage that he doesn’t notice me standing there as he paces across our spacious kitchen. The views of San Francisco Bay and its turbulent water beyond the window feel like they serve as a warning. I meet Rangi’s eyes from where he stands opposite of me. The muscle pulses in his jaw, but his acknowledgement of me is a subtle, cautious shake of his head.

“Something’s going on, Rangi. How do they fucking know our every move? Who are they getting their goddamn information from?” Kaleo keeps moving, his hands gesticulating as he rants but his mind clearly focused. “First the raid on the San Francisco warehouse. Now a bust at the port. What’s it going to be next? Huh?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I thought we took care of the fucking informants.”

“Maybe they were telling the truth. Maybe they weren’t agents,” Rangi says softly, afraid to poke the bear more than he already has been.

“Then who is it?” Kaleo shouts as he approaches his second-in-command. “Is it you?” In a heartbeat, Kaleo has Rangi pinned against the wall, his forearm pressing violently against his throat. “You know everything there is to know. Huh? Is. It. You?” He grates the question out.

Rangi’s eyes widen, and his face begins to turn red. But he doesn’t react or argue when we all know he could take on Kaleo one-on-one and win handily.

Instead, he just stares at his boss as he tries to strangle the life out of him.

Seconds feel like an eternity while I stand helpless and Kaleo continues to add pressure to his best friend’s windpipe. And then just as quickly as the switch had flipped on, it’s flicked back off, and Kaleo releases Rangi.

His laughter mixed with Rangi’s ragged breathing fills the kitchen. Kaleo slaps a hand against his friend’s chest like he didn’t just try to kill him. “Not you, Bra. Never you.” He cuffs the side of his head and meets his forehead to his top lieutenant’s for a moment before stepping back.

It’s only then that I swear Kaleo actually sees me.

His eyes lock onto mine, searching them almost as if wondering the same thing about me.

You’re being paranoid again, Tess.

But I hold his stare, and it takes everything I have not to flinch despite the chills running through me when he speaks.

“But if I ever find out who is, there will be no place they can hide. Not even the ends of the earth will protect them from the things I will do to them. From the ways I will make them pay.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Crew

The railing has been scraped, sanded, and painted.

The gutters have been cleaned and de-leaved.

The baseboards in the den have been replaced and repainted.

The decaying boards on the outbuilding have been replaced, and the inside is cleaned as best as possibly can be until I get the consent to do more with it from Uncle Ian. It’s his, after all, regardless of how much I feel like it’s become ours.

The list of things to finish is getting pared down and checked off. And maybe it’s easier to focus on it and possibly running into town to the hardware store than accomplishing the one thing I need to do most.

The one thing I gave myself a deadline to accomplish by today.

With a deep breath, I walk out to the verandah, take a seat on the top step, pick up my cell, and hit send.

“Well, well, well.” Justin’s gravelly voice fills the line and initiates a fresh wave of guilt laced with panic to surge through me. “If it isn’t Mr. Busy himself.”