The Shadows We Keep

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MATTEO'S POV

I found her in the garden. The sun wasn't even completely up yet, and there she was, just sitting, her eyes closed as her head was tilted up to the sky. I could have sworn I saw a small smile there as a bird passed her by. She was beautiful, all bundled up in her grey cotton sweater. I could tell this moment was probably one of the things that kept her going. Her serenity.

I remained there for a couple more minutes, just watching her, until the sun sat right in the sky, it's rays chasing off what was left of the early morning shadows. I took a couple of steps towards her direction, making my presence known. “Good morning,” I said, finally.

She turned towards my voice so fast, her hair slid over her shoulder, cascading down her back. I could see the relief that washed over her features for a second before it was replaced with a slight scowl. “Oh, it's you. You sound better,” she said. “Less… tired.”

I let out a small smile. “Coffee is a miracle, and sleep.”

“Sleep,” she echoed dryly. “Interesting.”

I walked over to the bench and sat, careful and slow so the movement doesn’t tug the stitches under my shirt. It still hurt like hell, and I was honestly grateful she didn't get to see me last night. I was a bloody mess.

“I take it you're still mad." I said, glancing over at her.

"I am.” she replied, angling towards where she heard me settle. Her knee bumped into mine in the process, but she didn't pull away, she remained focused on me. “Where did you go?"

There it was. The question I was dreading to answer. But I couldn't lie to her, at least not about this. “Miami."

I felt her freeze, but she continued. “For what?"

“Business."

“You know little bits of details wouldn't kill you, nor me." she snapped, before letting out a sigh. "What did you go to Miami to do?”

I shrugged, regretting it instantly. "I told you, business.”

“I’m blind, not deaf.” she snapped again, glaring at me. “And this business, does it mean disappearing for… what, almost three weeks?”

“Sometimes business is like that,” I said, still not giving anything away yet. “Sometimes I'm away for months.”

But she wasn't buying it. It was almost like she could sense by bullshit from a mile away without even trying. Her fingers found the hem of her cardigan and she murmured softly. “You must have been really busy. I can tell you're injured."

I blow out a breath, the sun warm against my neck. “I am.”

“What happened?”

The bench wood creaked when I leaned back. There’s a fine line between keeping her inside the circle and handing her the map to it. “A shipment that should’ve been smooth got complicated. Someone changed the rules mid-game.” I stopped before the part where I ambushed and almost killed by some idiots who were trying to call my bluff. “But, I dealt with it.”

“I can tell you did." She said and sighed. "While you were there, did you at least check out my father's things? find out valuable information? find out what happened after his death?”

“Most of it is gone," I replied flatly. "Your father was an important Don. Probably one of the most powerful and influential that anyone has seen in a long time. Now he's dead, everyone is clawing at the leftovers. His factions are currently battling to see who'll get the crown. Since people think you're dead, his s**t is already being divided up along faction lines like they were carving a roast, and each one is hoarding their portion like a starving dog.”

She remainded still, her expression not giving anything away. I’ve learned that with Gabriella, stillness is not absence; it’s comprehension. “Gone as in… impossible?”

“Gone as in difficult. There’s a chance to pry some of it loose, but not a lot, and not without making noise you can’t afford to make.”

A beat of silence passed between us. I knew she couldn't see, but it almost felt like she could, especially with the way her face relaxed when she stared at the sky. Two birds whistled into the air, and diged in between us before soaring back into the sky.

“We had a lawyer." She finally said.

“What's this name?"

“Marcus De Lora." she replied quickly. “He’s a family lawyer. I've seen him a couple of times over the years. He seemed decent.”

But Marcus De Lora was far from the decent. The old sleazeball was probably the dirtiest in the game. I mean yes, he was loyal and tight-lipped with his clients,but apart from that the man dipped his hands in all firm of immoral s**t because he had the protection of people like Russo backing him up.

“Decent is quite the word." I said, my tone coming out more bitter than I intended it to. “Any person who worked for your father knew exactly what line they were walking."

"I really don't think you're in a position to be judging anyone right now.” She said sharply. "He was the family lawyer, so he'd know a lot about everything, including all my father's offshore accounts. That's what I need to get my hands on the most, before anyone else does.”

I let her words sink in. The old me would have shut it down with a hard no, not wanting to risk anything yet even that meant upsetting her, but I found myself counting to three before I spoke. “I'm not judging anyone, I'm just being reasonable. If we go to De Lora now with all of this and he decides to whisper it on to someone else, what do you think your killer would do? Or have you forgotten you're supposed to be dead."

“No, I have a personal reminder."

Shit. So much for taking in a deep breath to be less harsh.

“I'm sorry." I said as gently as I could. “I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that I need to look into him first."

“How long will that take?”

“As long as it takes to be sure.” I shift, and something in my side protests. I let out a sharp breath, and almost immediately her hand instinctively lifts before she yanks in back to her lap.

She cleared her throat. “I trust him."

“No you don't. You shouldn't trust anyone."

“Even you?"

“Especially me."

She let out a resigned sigh. "So what am I supposed to do now? You expect me to just sit here and do nothing while you go ahead with your vacation long investigation.”

“First off, it's not a ‘vacation long investigation.’ ” I said, letting my knee settle against hers, deliberate this time. “Secondly, you’re not a package. With the way we're both going to start getting involved, I need you to be able to defend yourself so you don't get killed.”

She let out a humourless laugh. “I wonder how I'm going to do that.”

"You see, that's your problem. You are treating your blindness like a wall and not a door.”

“A door,” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “Into what, exactly?”

“Into the fact that people will underestimate you. Into the parts of a room the rest of us forget to notice because our eyes are lazy.” I took a look at her profile. The morning light hit the slope of her nose, the soft curve of her mouth, the tiny scar at her hairline. “You’ve been compensating. I’m going to teach you to use it.”

“Like a parlor trick? Do you think I'm some dog, Matteo?”

“That’s not it. Focus.” I snapped my fingers in her face, getting slightly impatient. “I’m talking about counting steps, mapping spaces, listening for tells. Knowing when someone is lying by the breath they take before they do it. You already do some of it, you just don’t do it on purpose.”

“Like how I knew you were hurt?"

“Exactly."

She was quiet for a heartbeat. “And you’re qualified because… you make people lie for a living?”

“Because I listen for a living,” I said.

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. “Pray tell, when does this so called training start?"

"Right now.”

"Right now?” She repeated, her face etched in surprise.

"Yes, Gabriella.” I said. “Stand up.”