His To Spoil

39) Dropped a towel

****3rd POV*****

"If you could get me the permit Sir it wou-"

"Enough of this Bianco!" A middle aged male roared slapping the file in his hand down on the dull desk. His black eyes scowled up at his junior, enraged about her obsession with the tips that nobody knew where they were coming from.

Beatrice Bianco pressed her lips together firmly as her eyes took in a fuming Mr Harry. Who knew being an officer again would mean enduring such humiliation?

All the more reason she couldn't let go of this wild case.

Mr Harry sighed, dispersing the anger.
Beatrice was just trying to catch the bad guys. She had even been in an accident. Heaven knew what was going on in the shadows of California.

"Sit down!" He finally said.

With slight hesitation, Beatrice lowered herself on the empty chair in front of the desk. She was careful not to disturb her fractured left arm tucked in a cast cocoon accompanied by a sling to keep it up.

As the morning sun spilled carefree in the office, the male could only use it as a distraction to avoid her questioning eyes. Which would get more demanding due to Beatrice's stubborn nature.

"You do know of a Mafia organization called Black Blood, right?"

Beatrice frowned, wondering why her Senior couldn't look into her eyes.
"Yes Sir."

It fell silent for a few seconds before the male dared to look into Beatrice's eyes.
"They're after you."

As expected, the female's gray eyes popped round that Mr Harry grew so uncomfortable on his seat.
"Them? Why would they-"

"There's something left at your accident spot." He coughed and reached to open one of the three drawers where his right knee rested on.
Feeling almost sorry for the female, Mr Harry brought up the hand which held an envelope.

Beatrice almost snatched the slightly bulged envelope from her senior. Holding it in the weak left hand, she used the right one to fish out the contents of the envelope.

A black rose came out first.

Beatrice immediately had an attack of eerie shivers to its sight, but no horror would compare to what she would experience next. As she fetched out the second thing in the envelope, her heart froze, breaths were disrupted and her brain forgot to send important signals about the importance of breathing.

Her skin slowly started growing pale and her eyes could not widen any further. She seemed like a ghost that had ben frightened by its own existence.

"Bianco?" Mr Harry yelled upon seeing the scary appearance of the woman seated a few inches from his desk.

A threat to one's child was the worst kind of threat to exist. And her being thousands of miles from her son, knowing too well that nobody could protect him as she would, made her entire system shut down.

"Shit!" Mr Harry cursed shooting out of his chair to run around the desk.

***. ***. ***.

*****ANNIE*****

"Jack?" I called knocking on the adjacent door.

No response.

"Jack?"

Nothing.

Strange, his Sunday car was still in the garage, meaning he had to be in the house. If he wasn't in his room, where else the fuck would he be at?

Out of my strange habit of collecting his worn shirts or t-shirts, I unlocked the door and tiptoed inside.

The room was cool and aerated. A slow wind was blowing lazily in through the large windows, brushing past the sheers gently. It felt like I had walked in a park from the scent of flowers tagging along the wind.