Dangerous Desires

by Tia Siren

  “In your office? You’re talking about the district attorney who tried to put me in jail with no evidence. Are you sure you trust him, Harlow?”

  My stomach drops again. Do I trust him? Do I trust anyone? I don’t know what to believe anymore, and the pile of bleeding men on my antique rug isn’t helping me make a decision.

  “I have no idea, Vince. All I know is that you just beat the shit out of three men single-handedly, and now you’re asking me to what? Run away with you?”

  One of the men on the floor starts to stir, and Vince kicks him in the head, sending him back into unconsciousness. “Harlow, I will tell you everything, but we’re kind of operating on borrowed time at the moment, sweetie. No doubt one of your neighbors heard that commotion and will be calling the cops. We need to get out of here posthaste.”

  I nod, knowing he’s right, and hurry into the bedroom. As I slip into jeans and a sweatshirt, and start digging around for sneakers, I wipe a tear away from my cheek.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into? I wonder for a second time as I jam emergency supplies into a backpack. Is there anyone I can trust?

  5

  We’re sitting in a coffee shop in Alphabet City, neither of us saying anything. The waitress keeps talking to us like we’ve just left a funeral, and honestly, it kind of feels like we have. We’re both dressed in black, except for the white bandage that Vince has wrapped around his arm from where that psycho intruder attacked him. I’m so terrified I can barely talk, and Vince is completely lost in thought. He’s downing cup after cup of coffee, and mine has gone ice-cold. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Vince looks up at me.

  “We need to go back to my office.”

  My jaw drops. “The office that the Adelardis already destroyed? Why would we go back there?”

  “Because I need to use my computer, and I need to get…something…from the safe.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “Vince,” I plead. “Can you please tell me what is going on? I don’t think I can handle running around anymore, having people aim guns at me, trying to kill me, when I don’t have a clue why.”

  Vince looks around, surveying the diner, as if to make sure that no one suspicious is listening to us, or watching. Then he secures the USB drive around his neck, his fingers blindly confirming it’s still there.

  “Okay, I don’t even really know where to begin. The short version is, when I went through my father’s files, I found evidence that Durante Adelardi had been laundering money through his hotels for two decades. From there, I went down a rabbit hole of criminal activity. Blackmail, kidnapping…even murder. If my father hadn’t died, I would have forced him to turn himself in for being complicit in everything he helped them do. But the second best thing I could do was turn over all of the information I’d found to the DA. Or the FBI. Anyone who would listen.”

  I lean back in the booth, my head spinning. We’d taken Carlo Adelardi down for racketeering. We hadn’t been able to make any of the other charges stick, because we couldn’t find enough evidence. If Vince had all of the information he said he did, that would be the end of Adelardi family, as well as all of their associates.

  “You mentioned people at the top being involved. Do you have any evidence of names or dates, actual confirmation of power players who are aiding and abetting the Adelardis?”

  Vince shakes his head. “Everything I have is written in code, so it’s nicknames, things I don’t recognize. And I haven’t been able to sort them out on my own. Do you think you’d be able to help with that?”

  I run my hands through my hair. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this strung out, or this scared, in my entire life. But it’s not like I have a choice. I can’t go back to my apartment, and I can’t go to the police. We can’t go to the police, without hard evidence that the Adelardi family is behind the attack on us. Our only option is to see this through, and make sure they go down for good.

  “I’ll help you. Of course, I’ll help you. But this whole fugitive lifestyle is really not for me. I miss my computer and my cell phone... and my Miles Davis.” Vince laughs at me so loudly, the waitress turns to us with a confused glare.

  “It’s been an hour, Harlow,” he says when he regains his composure. “God help us if we were ever trapped on a desert island!”

  Even as panic courses through my bones, his smile and laugh warms my heart in a way I can’t quite describe. Vince may have gotten me into this mess, but in some weird way, I know there is no one else I’d rather be beside, never mind on the run with.

  I can also see in his huge blue eyes that he feels the same about me.

  It takes us almost two hours on foot to get from the diner to Vince’s office in the Financial District, because Vince keeps stopping to make sure we’re not being followed. He doesn’t even trust cab drivers, and at this point, I can’t say I blame him. It feels as if every person who looks our way is here to kill us, and every guy who bumps into us is going to pull a gun. Given this is Manhattan, we’re both completely stressed out as we make our way down to Wall Street.

  When we finally get to his building, the sun is just starting to rise in the background, and it’s glittering off the sparkling chrome high-rise. I lean against the wall as he peeks around the side, checking for anyone who might be watching us.

  “Why do you have an office on Wall Street? Isn’t this mostly for financial guys? And…isn’t it really expensive?” I ask in a whisper. Vince shrugs and gestures for me to follow him in the direction of a side door.

  “It’s actually my father’s old office. I didn’t know why he had an office in a financial building, either…until I started digging around in his personal effects. Anyway, I’ve been using his place as a base of operations, while I sort everything out. But as soon as I’m able, I’m dumping this building and finding my own place to work.”

  I grab his arm and pull him back. “Wait a second. What do you mean, building? Don’t you mean, office?”

  He shakes his head. “My father owned the building. And now, I do. But I want to sell it as soon as I can so I can find somewhere to operate the new branch of my other business somewhere closer to midtown.”

  “Speaking of… How did you do all of that stuff in my apartment with the gun and the…”

  Vince holds up his hand. “Not now, Harlow. We need to get inside.” He starts punching numbers into an elaborate pin pad next to the door. Then another pad opens up from the wall with a hand shape on it, which he palms. Suddenly, the door clicks open, and he grabs me, drags me inside, then pushes the door shut quickly behind us. As we walk into the building, I can see elevators out of the corner of my eyes, but Vince holds tight to my hand, and pulls me toward the stairs.

  “Please tell me you’re on the second floor…” I mutter.

  “We’ll just go up a few flights and get the elevators there. I don’t want to deal with the lobby. Just in case.”

  I groan as we slip into a stairwell, and start climbing flight after flight, until I’m sure we’re at the top of the building based on the burning in my calf muscles. Instead, we stop in front of a door marked “Fourth Floor.”

  “God, I need to work out more,” I say as Vince opens the door with a laugh. He checks the hallways, then pulls me after him again as we run to the elevator. Once we’re inside, I’m about to renew my request for answers about his amazing self-defense abilities, when out of nowhere he pins me up against the wall of the elevator. His strong, muscled chest presses into me, his scent clouds my judgement. I know I should push him away, but every time he gets close to me like this, my brain turns to mush.

  “Vince… this probably isn’t the time…” I try to protest.

  “If not now, when?” he answers with a grin, then leans in and kisses me, slowly, patiently, almost painfully. I feel my knees start to go weak, and he anticipates it, his arm sliding behind my back as he holds me up and stops me from falling to the floor in a heap. Just when I think I’m about to lose my mind entirely, the elevator do
or dings and opens, and Vince pulls away as if nothing ever happened. I expect another round of peeking around corners and creeping down halls, but I realize that the doors have opened to what is essentially one huge open office space that takes up the entire top floor of the building.

  And Vince was right. The office has been ransacked.

  The furniture is all flipped over, and there are tan files and papers scattered everywhere. Vince sighs.

  “I am not looking forward to cleaning all of this up.”

  I nudge a clump of papers that are at my feet. “It might be easier to just move and sell the place as is.”

  He chuckles. “Unfortunately, most of this is case work my father left behind. I can shred the majority of it eventually, but I have to make sure it’s nothing important first. There is months of work left here. And those assholes just added to it. Anyway, the reality is they wasted their time. They never would have found anything they were looking for. Speaking of…”

  Vince walks over to the far end of the office, where an antique armchair is flipped over on top of a vintage rug. He lifts up the chair, then gently sets it down on the floor, before rolling up the rug. Underneath, there is a floor safe, with a lock system as elaborate as the one on the door outside. Vince squats down and sets about unlocking it, using a complex code, and then what seems to be a specific series of fingerprints. I can’t help but chuckle.

  “What’s next? Are you going to stick your…” But I cut myself off, because I start giggling at the image of him with his pants down, unlocking the safe with his dick, and can’t stop. Vince shakes his head with a smile.

  “You laugh, but that’s an option the security company offers. It’s just a lot harder to change the system to allow for new users when you use it.”

  I’m still chuckling when Vince snaps the handle on the safe, reaches inside, and pulls out .22 Magnum, cocks it, then tucks it into his belt. Next, he takes out a tan pistol like nothing I have ever seen before, and puts it in his inside coat pocket. The guns are followed by huge handfuls of cash that he folds up and slides into his other coat pockets. Finally, he starts hiding a series of tactical knives in his exterior pockets, and any trace of amusement I was feeling completely disappears.

  “Okay, enough of this horseshit. Who are you, Vincent Loretto? I’m not taking another step until you tell me exactly what the hell is going on and why you look like an action movie character right now.”

  Vince looks up at me with a mischievous grin, and while it softens me a little, it doesn’t change the fact that I am completely stressed out and beginning to think there is little chance that I might not be in the presence of a trained killer. Vince stands up from the floor, then crosses over to the desk and leans against it. He looks so strong, and handsome, I almost forget for a minute that he’s terrifying. This is going to be a problem, I think as he runs his hands through his hair.

  “It’s not quite as nefarious as I’m sure you’re spinning it to be in that wild imagination of yours, Harlow. When I said I’d never killed people for the mob, that was true. But I have killed people before. I was a tactical leader of the Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command, or the Marine Raiders. Specifically, I was in the Unconventional Warfare unit.”

  My mind is spinning. “The what? Raiders? Dear God… What is unconventional warfare?”

  He doesn’t look up from the floor. “It’s complicated. But basically we assist in situations of conflict by means other than traditional ‘boots on the ground’ kind of stuff. Covert subversion kind of stuff. I was an…” He mumbles a word under his breath that I can’t make out.

  “Speak up, Vince. I can’t understand you when you mutter.”

  “An assassin,” he says clearly this time. “I was a trained assassin for the government. I joined the Marines right out of high school, and within a year, they’d transferred me to the Raiders. I rose through the ranks quickly, but the burnout rate on people in our field is high, so I left after a couple of years. The military paid for me to go to college, then law school. And here I am.”

  I shake my head, baffled. “So, what? You’re an entertainment contracts attorney who can kill a guy with his little finger? That’s insane, Vince. That doesn’t sound real. It sounds like something out of a movie.”

  Vince laughs. “Tell me about it. I never expected to be living the life I am. In fact, I joined the military specifically to reject the kind of life my father lived. And yet, here I am. Anyway, can we dispense with the biography for now and move on to more important things before Adelardi’s thugs come back?”

  I nod, and cross over to the desk where Vince is leaning, then turn his desktop computer back upright. Thank goodness, the monitor doesn’t seem to be broken, and they weren’t smart enough to steal the hard drive. Vince rolls his desk chair over and takes the USB off his neck, then plugs it into the computer. It takes a moment as the computer seems to adjust to being functional again, but eventually, the screen lights up with spreadsheets, scans of handwritten lists, and shipping dossiers. Vince gets up from the chair so I can sit down and start scanning the information in front of us.

  First I go through the contact list, and I don’t recognize anything off the bat. Then I start clicking through the notes, one by one, but nothing looks directly relevant, though I’m sure some of the people in our department would know better than I would. Just as I’m about to give up in frustration, I come across a hand-scrawled note, and my stomach drops.

  8pm meeting with Mule at the Ivy. Bring the payment.

  I get up from the chair and cross over to the window, unable to speak or process what I’ve just seen. Vince leans over to read the note himself, then turns to me.

  “Harlow, what is this? Who is Mule?”

  I cross my arms over my stomach and choke back bile. “At the courthouse, everyone calls Alexander O’Connell ‘The Mule’ because he’s so damn stubborn. The Mule is my boss. The district attorney is on Durante Adelardi’s payroll.”

  6

  “So, what the hell do we do? Especially if you’re intent on not letting me kill him.”

  I roll my eyes at Vince, who is sitting next to me on the 6 train as we make our way uptown. “Vince, the last thing we need are more bodies attached to this case. We have to get all of your evidence down to Allison, my friend at the US District Attorney’s office. At this point, we can’t trust anyone where I am. But Allison works for the public corruption department, so at the very least, she can help us figure out what to do with this information about Alexander.”

  Vince grumbles as he sinks down into the seat. “I still say it would be easier to just take him out.”

  The train is just about to pull into the station when out of the corner of my eye, I see two men watching us intently. I didn’t notice them before, because of the morning crowds on subway, but now, I can’t see anything else. They are wearing clothes specifically designed to blend in, and one of them has his hand resting on side, as if he’s concealing a…

  Oh shit, he has a gun.

  I lean over to Vince, trying to remain as calm as I can possibly manage, and I whisper in his ear.

  “Vince…someone is watching us. From the other side of the car. And I think one of them has a gun.”

  Vince follows my line of sight as nonchalantly as possible, then turns back to me with no expression. He doesn’t even look at me when he talks. He just keeps his gaze fixed forward.

  “Stay in your seat until I say differently. Even when the doors open and people start filtering off the train, stay in your seat. When I tell you to go, you go. Don’t let go of my hand, don’t look at me, and don’t look back. Just go.”

  He takes my hand in his, and gives it a tight, reassuring squeeze. I nod, trying to hold back a sob that is threatening to escape my throat. I became a lawyer to put the bad guys in jail, not to spend my mornings running from men with guns on the subway. Every minute we are out here is another minute I think I am more scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life. And then t
he next minute rolls around, and I am more terrified than ever before.

  My eyes are fixed on the subway door as the train jolts to a stop. The doors open, and morning commuters begin to file out, while a few of the ruder people push their way on. We hear the alarm that the train is about to leave again, and I think I see the doors about to close, when Vince whisper-shouts, “Go!” and jumps from his seat, dragging me behind him as we bolt off the subway car.

  My heart is beating a mile a minute as Vince pulls me with him through the station, pushing people out of our way and moving faster and faster, until I can barely breathe from running. We’re almost up the stairs that lead to the top floor of the train station when I feel another hand on my wrist, pulling me backwards, and away from Vince. I spin around, ready to swing and punch and kick, whatever I need to do to get those men away from us.

  Instead, a uniformed transit cop is holding my arm, and he looks worried.

  “Miss, are you okay? Do you need help? Do you want to be with his man right now?”

  I look from the cop back to Vince, who is looking over the top of the crowd. I see his eyes go wide, and he glances down at me, and mouths, “They’re coming.” I nod and turn back to the cop.

  “Actually, officer, this gentlemen was just offering me assistance,” I say, panting. “Those two men, coming this way, in the black jackets, they were chasing me. And one of them has a gun.”

  The cop nods resolutely, then announces a series of codes into the handset on his shoulder. The cop turns for a second to assess where the men are, and Vince starts pulling me again. We get to the top of the stairs, and Vince looks up and down the station, before heading for the stairs that lead up to Chambers Street. I’m not sure I’m going to make it up another flight of stairs without my legs collapsing underneath me, but I know we just have to get up to the busy streets above us, and then we can get lost in the crowd.