Allurance

Chapter One

"Who do you know of would of wanted to hurt Jordan?" Aileen the police officer asked me sensitively.
"No one! He was so quiet and kind, he wouldn't of said boo to a goose I'm telling you," I said as I sipped coffee through my salty tasting lips.
"He was quiet?"
"Yes. A man of few words. His friend group kinda pushed him around like a little brother, but they loved him they wouldn't of done anything." Aileen nodded as she penciled down the words I was saying.
"Anything sketchy about the people or places he hangs around in?" I thought for a moment. I knew one of his friends was dealing, but that would get him into trouble.
"No, not at all." I said innocently, like I didnt just lie to a cop.
"Okay Gwen, you've done well today. Go home and try to get some sleep alright? I'm working 24/7 on this case. You can trust me." She smiled.
"Thank you." I said. I quickly went into the bathroom before leaving and I looked at mysef in the dirty mirror of the single stall. My makeup that was nicely done for Jordan coming home from work for our anniversary was smudged off. My hair that was curled perfectly was now in a messy bun over my head with straglers at the back and front of my scalp. And the lingerie I wore underneath the leggings and Jordan's jumper had lost their sexiness. I needed to find who had done this to Jordan. Other people may sit and mope in their grief but not me...I have a new found hunger to catch whoever did this.

I woke up to a bang of my door. I checked the time on my phone, 12:46pm. I shoved my laptop off me and I looked in the mirror. Yeesh. my makeup was somehow worse than the morning and my bun was halfway down my head. I opened the door to two men with suits on looking very hitman-ish.
"Are you Gwendolyn West?" Something felt wrong. It felt really fucking wrong. "Uh, no I'm not. Who's asking?" I asked.
"Was your fiance Jordan Armstrong?" They asked almost robotically. 
"Why? Who is asking?" I was taking mental pictures in my head. Habit.
"If you are not Gwendolyn West we cannot give you that nformation Miss." One of them said.
"I'm not."
"Sorry for disturbing you." The other said and then they walked down the hallway to the elevator. I closed the door. This is sketchy. I shoved on my Nike shoes and a jacket and locked my apartment up. I ran down the stairs to catch up with the two men. They walked out in time, I loosley followed. They both got into the back of a black vintage Aston Martin. The registration plate read "TSH" . TSH? Initialls? I ran back up to my apartment and went straight onto Jordans laptop. I typed his password in then looked at his emails. Work emails and emails from me, blah blah blah...boom. An email from 'DON'T REPLY' saying, "Meet me outside your building. I'll be in a black Aston Martin with the reg plate TSH." . I've got it. I typed in the email address to Google. Nothing came up. I searched up TSH into Google. Thomas Stanley Holland is the youngest mob leader in America. Holy shit. TOM HOLLAND? MOBS? What the hell was Jordan doing getting involved with them? I had to know. I had to somehow find a way to get in and talk to this Tom guy.

Tom's POV

"Sir? Gwendolyn wasn't at the address that was given." One hitman said to me as he entered my office.
"What do you mean? That's her address!" I said.
"We talked to the woman there, she wasn't Gwendolyn and had never heard of Jordan." I grabbed the picture of Gwendolyn that was on top of the report Annie had made and shoved it in the hitman's face.
"Is this  the girl you talked to?" I pressed. They both looked at it.
"No, that's not her." They said.
"Well, why the fuck is that her said address if she doesn't fucking live there?" I asked angrily. I slumped down on my office chair and pinched the bridge of my nose, attempting to pull new ideas out of my brain.
"Could you guys get out. I don't want to fire two more men in 24 hours." I said. They both left quietly and I sat in silence before I was interrupted by an email coming in from an address I had never seen before. fosterguinevere@gmail.com . It read, "Hello Mr Holland. My name is Guinevere Foster. I am a waitress at the Redstone Hotel and a cleaner part time. I was wondering if you needed any extra service or help. If so, I'd be honoured to send you my resume. Thanks a lot, Belle."  I sighed. I actually did need help around, I'd fired a lot of people recently. That's what happens when your girlfriend of two years cheats on you. I huffed and replied back a simple, yes please. Then shut down the computer and dragged my feet along to my bedroom. Today was too stressful.