Unforgivable Secrets | One Mistake Away Series Bk 1 [Mob Romance]

Chapter 25 - Late Nights

Content Warning: Language! - Of course.

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Harper's POV:

"You called to tell me you have nothing? It's been nearly twelve fucking hours, Padrik!" I listened to him mumble some response that felt less than intelligent at the moment.

"I don't care what you have to do. I want answers. And I want them now." I kept my voice steady, but the higher pitch radiated my irritation.

"Quit giving me excuses and find me answers." With that I hung up the phone, running a hand through my out of place hair.

We'd shown up at the bar to find nothing but blood and shattered glass. Any bodies that'd been there were long gone, picked up with the rest of the carnage in a half-ass attempt at keeping things from being noticed by local law enforcement. They knew we'd clean up the rest of the mess when we got there. All I could think about was those lazy motherfuckers having my men --- one I loved and one that felt like my attached right hand.

Staring down at my paperwork, I tried to focus on the white sheets with black scribbles. Everything felt like it was blending together. I couldn't focus. I didn't feel like eating. I couldn't go to sleep in spite of the lateness of the evening. I was more of a mess than I cared to admit.

A soft knock on my door alerted me to the fact I wasn't there alone. Pushing the paperwork away, I rubbed my eyes. "Come in."

"Miss O'Sullivan." Sylvy peeped her head in. "I really hate to bother you, but it's nearly one in the morning. Should I go home or stay?"

Sylvy looked as exhausted as I felt. Yawning, I rubbed the creases from my forehead. "I didn't realize you were still here, Sylvy."

Pushing her glasses up her nose, she shrugged. "I couldn't go home. I didn't want to leave you to deal with all of this alone."

I couldn't stop the small smile from teasing my lips. Motioning to the seat in front of my desk, I watched the small woman come over and sit.

"You are one of a kind, Sylvy. I don't know what I did to deserve you." I sat back in my chair, pulling open a drawer. Reaching in, I grabbed a pair of scotch glasses and a bottle of Jameson. Holding the bottle up a tad high, I arched a brow.

Giving me a meek smile, Sylvy gave a small nod.

"A woman after my own heart." Slowly I poured two-quarter full glasses. Gently sliding the second glass over, I replaced the cap on the bottle and placed it back in my drawer.

Yawning, I rubbed the tiredness from my eye and snatched up my glass. Taking a sip, I evaluated the woman. She was petite --- smaller than me. Her glasses took away the intenseness of her wide, stunning blue eyes. Part of me wondered if she wore contacts to make them as blue as they were. Her shoulder length, caramel brown hair parted on the side, giving her simple, curled under style plenty of volume on top of her head. She was cute. Innocent. Naïve.

"I take it no more news has come in?" She quietly asked, sipping her drink.

"It will." I sighed. "It always does."

"Do you think..." Her words died away as she looked down at her lap.

"Do I think what, Sylvy?" My brows furrowed up, waiting for an answer I all ready figured I knew.

"Do you think they're still alive?" She slowly looked up at me, tears filling her eyes.

"I don't think Ricci has any reason to kill them yet." I kept my answer vague but hopeful.

Nodding, she looked back down at her glass. "What more can I do?"

A tiny smile teased the edge of my lips. "You can go home and get some rest. I will let you know if we hear anything. You've done well, Sylvy."

She watched me for a moment, nothing but sadness seeping from her face. Pushing her glass a few inches closer to me, she stood up to leave. Twisting around, she headed for the door, saying good night as she left.

Pulling a clip from my hair, I gently shook it out. Raking a hand through the loose, red curls, I sighed. This was not how I thought things would go when I chose to go to war. I knew there'd be casualties, but I had been too blinded by my need to extract revenge to see past my own selfishness.

Standing from my chair, I kept the glass in my hand. Sipping the dark liquid as I walked, I thought about consequences. Pausing my walk around the room, a thought dawned on me. Reminiscing was one thing. Regret was another thing. I didn't have time for either. I had to strategies; formulate. Lives depended on me outsmarting the enemy. I couldn't allow Ricci to win. I couldn't allow him to take back my territory. Regardless of the consequences and the regret. Too many lives depended on me being strong, being smart. I was their queen. And I'd be damned if I lost.

Huffing out a frustrated breath, I twisted back around to my chair. Taking a seat, I began going through my paperwork again. Maybe I'd missed something. Maybe a resource I overlooked would be enough to drop this son of a bitch in his tracks.

Two more hours of scouring through my paperwork still brought me to a hitch in the road. There was nothing popping out at me. Smitty used to be my second pair of eyes to see what I missed, but with him not here I felt like I was still overlooking something.

Picking up his bundled phone and television bill, I stared at it. A little anger at the price still flickered in my mood. Looking over the bill I eyed up the channels he'd been subscribing to.

"Disney?" My brows furrowed. Scanning lower, I felt my jaw click. "Cooking? Hallmark?"

I felt the blood drain from my face. I knew my man well. These were not his channels. This was not him watching these.

"Son of a bitch!" I dropped the bill, raking a hand through my hair.

"You have a family..." I looked up, huffing out a frustrated breath. Standing up, I stormed to the door. "Thanks for making things more complicated, Smitty. You fucking asshole!"

Slipping into Sylvy's office, I began scouring through her files.

"D...E...F..." Her lettering system mumbled from my lips until I reached the S. My fingers slid over the file tops as I made it through the alphabetical list looking for Smitty's last name and first initial.

"Connor Smitty." I breathed, pulling the folder out. Slowly pushing the file drawer shut, I stared at the folder as I took a seat at my secretary's desk. Flipping on the lamplight, I fingered through the file. Most of the information was obvious. There was a copy of his birth certificate, a record of his social security card, his tax forms, bills that I paid for him. It was all pretty cut and dry. Leaving the file open, I leaned on my fist.

"What don't I know, Smitty?" I stared at his picture, trying to see his secrets through his eyes.

My cell phone ringing made me jump. Taking a few deep breaths I pulled it out of my back pocket. It was nearly three in the morning. My dad's name popped up --- at least, the only dad I truly had known. Alarm sent a shiver up my spine.

"Dad, what's wrong?" I answered the phone, a question immediately following.

"Harp, we need you to come home." His voice sent a shard of concern barreling through me.

"Dad, what is it?" I pressed on. I didn't want to hear bullshit right now; I wanted answers. "It's really early."

"Harp, I can't talk about it on the phone. I just need you to come home." His tone didn't sound good; it made me cringe.

Eyes wide, I found myself nodding in spite of him not being there in front of me. "I'll be there in a few hours. Is mom okay? Are you okay?"

"We're fine, honey, just get home." The urgency made me uneasy.

"I love you, dad. Tell mom that too." I breathed out, all ready standing up. Snatching Smitty's folder, I listened to my dad's farewell as I hung up. I knew I shouldn't leave my station here, but the rest of my family needed me. I needed to be available for everyone. I needed to be the hero. It was my job.