I creep around the mansion at night and note Gabriel’s movements, but other than that, I’ve come up a bit dry in terms of research. If I intend to get anywhere with this anytime soon, I need to pursue leads with a little more tenacity, whether they’re from inside or outside of the house.
One thing I do want to look into more is the locked storage shed I saw yesterday when I was taking Harry for a walk through the grounds. I’d never seen it before, and I didn’t know if that was because it wasn’t here the last time I was or if it was because of its tucked-away location—just beyond the copse of trees at the east side of the house.
I’m keen to get past the heavy padlock, but the only problem is I don’t have a reason to be outside at night. In the summer, I might have been able to take a nighttime stroll without drawing suspicion, but there is a definite chill in the air now, especially at night, and any guard worth his salt would wonder what I was doing out there and report my movements. Plus, if I leave the mansion under the cover of darkness, it will look like I’m trying to escape.
I need to think a little more about how I’m going to get inside that shed.
I decide to write back to Debbie. I tell her that I’m still researching but should be able to start writing soon. I know this will frustrate her. In the week I stayed at her house, I made almost breakneck progress on the story, and now that I only have the last few threads to connect, I’ve essentially come to a standstill.
I know that purple heroin is probably being distributed throughout the city via the Italian and Irish mobs, but I don’t know what their working dynamic is—or why they’re working together in the first place—and I don’t have a clue where they’re getting it from.
The frustrating thing? I share a bed with the don of the Italian Mafia most nights. All the answers I’m looking for are tucked away behind his closed eyelids. I wish I could tap him like a maple tree for the answers I need.
I hear the front door open and close down the hall, then heavy footsteps walk over the tile and up the stairs. I would recognize those powerful footfalls anywhere. Gabriel is home.
“Come on, Harry,” I say, scooping him into my arms. “I need to have a talk with your daddy.”
I take Harry up to the nursery and set him in his playpen, then slide up to Angelo outside of the room. I bat my eyelashes.
“Will you watch him for a minute?” I ask sweetly.
Angelo glances at the other guard, whose name I don’t know, then back to me. “You should call the nanny.”
“I’ll only be a minute.” I bat my eyes again for good measure, and Angelo sighs and chuckles, shaking his head.
“You’re trouble,” he says, but acquiesces and steps into the nursery.
I take great pleasure in the fact that while Angelo probably wouldn’t disobey a direct order from Gabriel for me, he’s still somewhat on my side. I can understand why Gabriel would like having hundreds of men at the ready to obey his direct command. I just levered a mafioso into childcare and I feel very powerful.
With Harry taken care of, I storm down the hall to Gabriel’s office and rap on the door. I try the handle, not wanting to wait to be called in, but it’s locked. Typical.
“Who is it?” Gabriel shouts.
I can hear the tension in his voice. This is probably not the right time to confront him, but then again, with Gabriel, when is a good time?
“It’s Alexis.”
I hear him walk to the door and it swings open. Gabriel stands over me, his broad chest filling my line of view. His eyes glare down at me like dark pebbles, lips pressed in a thin line.
“What is it?” he asks.
I raise a brow. “Can I come in?”
He sighs and moves away from the door so I can walk past him. I go inside, but I don’t sit. When he closes the door, I spin to face him.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I ask.
“I’m guessing you’ve seen the interview,” he replies in a mocking tone.
“You had no right!” The volume of my voice lifts with each word. “I’m not your girlfriend, I’m your prisoner!”
That’s not strictly true. I doubt Gabriel would let