𝚂𝙾𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚃𝚈 𝚆𝙾𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷 𝙺𝙸𝙳𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 ,, j. b routledge

21 | and i'll still kick your ass, even in my skirt

Chapter Twenty - One

Seashore ( The Regrettes )

"and i'll still kick your ass, even in my skirt"

"Sorry I'm late." Kiara said, running down the dock behind the Barba family cabin "It's been hell trying to leave the house since Pope went missing. My parents are in hyperdrive."

"No, I get it. My mom's been freaking out as well." I nodded, lifting my head from John B's shoulder. "I'm getting worried. I think she might start drinking again, and I remember very well how that went last time."

I was sitting in the small skiff with JJ and John B, and now Kiara. The plan was to break into Luke Maybank's garage and root through his stuff until we found out everything we could about his dealings with Sangue.

If we were lucky, which I was hoping we would be, we'd be able to find an address to where they were holding Pope and Favio. I was going to pick up the money from Rafe in the morning, and then the rest was up to chance.

Once Kie was settled in the small boat, we cast off from the dock, JJ working the steering motor. We were eerily silent, the biting cold of the Carolina night lashing at our faces. We could tell summer was ending as the humidity died down and the skeeters vanished. Fall was fast approaching, and behind it was all the stressors of senior year and college applications.

I just hoped that with all this Sangue business we'd still be around to experience it all in September.

Luke Maybank's garage sat in a grungy retail complex on the south part of the Cut, where the island's trailer-trash lived and made a living. I once made my own living there, but it was a darker, more cash-strapped time in the Franca Barba history. We pulled up to the boat moors closest to the ugly pale yellow building, the moonlight reflecting off the water as we sat for a moment, trying to gather up the courage to trample the 'no trespassing' sign.

"So who's gonna go?" JJ asked, his voice almost as cold and steely as his deep grey eyes.

I stood up shakily, disconnecting my hand from John B's. "I'll do it. My screwed up family is the reason we got into this mess, I'll be the one to get us out."

John B instantly reached for my wrist, tying to get me to stay behind "You didn't cause any of this, it's not your mess to get us out of." He said softly, but firmly

"It is my mess to get you guys out of." I insisted. "Favio is the reason we're here."

Kiara shook her head "You had no way of knowing where he got the money from."

"I have to do this."

"Then you aren't doing it alone." John B said, something final in his voice

I nodded in agreement, agreeing to let John B wait outside the garage in case anything were to happen. I carefully made my way across the overgrown back lawn, filled with dead, dry grass that was much closer to the color of wheat than the lush green it should have been. There was no way Luke installed security cameras: the prick was money hungry, but still incredibly cheap.

There was a rip in the screen for the back window, allowing me to slide a tanned olive arm over to where the partially-open window was, curling my fingers under the paned glass and pushing the window up. I clumsily removed the screen, John B giving me the lift I needed to get inside.

"Can you wait out here? Let me know if you see Luke?" I whispered to the Routledge boy from the inside of the garage

He nodded "You're in good hands."

"I should hope so." I grinned, sticking my head back through the window to place a quick kiss on his lips.

I was quite familiar with the layout of Luke Maybank's office. When I had worked at the garage, I spent two straight months as a glorified secretary until he'd let me on the shop floor, and even then I was informed that I was to stay away from the more lucrative projects, which I later found out was mainly modifications to boats for drug smuggling.

Crossing the room, I went directly for the filing cabinet and the one drawer he had always kept locked. The keys, like expected, were nowhere to be found, but as I had found out while working in the office, the lock was flimsy and cheap, much like the rest of the office equipment. Hell, the computer still ran on Windows XP.

Grabbing the nearest heavy object, I rammed the end of the hole puncher into the lock, hearing the satisfying tell-tale sound of a lock opening amidst the giant bang of swinging metal into sheet metal.

Placing the hole punch haphazardly on the desk, I whisked the drawer open, propping onto my toes and flipping through the folders like a madwoman. There had to something among all his drug smuggling invoices and work orders fr secret compartments. Something as important as his dealings with the Italian mafia would definitely be kept here, where nobody would look.

I was highly frustrated and about to give up when I spotted a blue file folder hidden at the back of the drawer, completely unlabeled. Curious and hopeful, I pulled the folder out, carefully opening it on the desk in case any loose pages were to fall out. On top of the stack of papers was a contract between Sangue Nero and Luke Maybank, signed and dated for the beginning of the month, clearly in anticipation of Favio not paying back his loan.

And on sticky note attached to that same paper, in Luke's messy scrawl was an address in one of Figure Eight's largest and most expensive marina's.

They were keeping Favio and Pope on a boat.

I quickly stuffed the file folder up my sweater, anchoring it in the waistband of my denim shorts. Making a mad dash for the window, I signaled for John B, alarmed to find that he wasn't there.

"John B?!" I hissed out into the empty back yard of the complex

I was about to attempt to climb out on my own when the crashing sound of a door being flung open startled me, sending me sprawling on the floor.

"Well if it isn't Sienna Franca Barba. Long time no see, you little rat."

I slowly got up from the floor, the sound of Luke Maybank's voice sending chills down my spine.

"Please, just let me get out of here."

"Not until you tell me why you were in my filing cabinet. Looking for information on your dear old dad?" The Maybank patriarch sneered, gesturing to the open top drawer

Thinking fast, I flung the hole puncher at him, nailing him in the stomach. He staggered backwards, enough for me to hit him with a folding chair. There was a crashing sound from the shop floor, and the slapping of shoe soles against concrete as John B ran into the office out of breath.

"Okay, you got him." The boy panted "I saw him go inside and I tried to come in and warn you."

I chuckled "You did great. Come on, I found the address."