Entangled With The Mafia

Chapter 9: Jason's Death

Amelia

I wake up with a start. I had a terrible dream. Being chased in the dark by a raving lunatic with a machete. The sun's in my face. I must've slept with the curtains open. I get to my feet and shower. I dress in a baby blue dress and golden sandals. I have nowhere to go today, and I haven't heard from Jason.

He didn't sleep in or leave a text. I want to shrug it off as paranoia, but I'm concerned. I only met him a few days ago, but he doesn't seem like this kind of person. Maybe he's just busy, but something feels off.

I think of the last time I saw him. He had to leave urgently. Where'd he go? Everyone was so agitated. He did send me the text with the club's address later, though. So maybe he just had a long night.

I'm straightening my hair when the doorbell rings. I get to my feet. It must be Jason. That's what I thought initially. Then, I stop in my tracks. Why would he ring the doorbell? This is his apartment. I'm the guest, not him. If only there were a peephole, I'd see who was on the other side of the door. I open the door a little, and to my absolute shock, I find Damien Keller staring at me.

"Mr. Keller?"

He looks serious. He's frowning and carrying a suitcase. "May I come inside?"

I let him through. My heart starts beating faster. I close the door and find him staring at me. "Sit down, Miss Huxley. I bring terrible news."

My hand flies to my chest. I know it can't be good. This man wouldn't visit me personally for no good reason. I do as he instructs and sit. I'm hyperventilating, and I know it. This has to be about Jason.

He clears his throat. "Your cousin, Jason, was killed in a shootout at two in the morning."

My head starts spinning. Jason. Dead. Killed. I'm too shocked for words. He wasn't answering the phone because he was dead. I feel sick. It can't be. How could he be dead? "Are you sure?" This is the first question that comes to mind.

"I personally identified his body in the morgue earlier today. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

Does Devon know he's dead? My mind is racing so fast that I momentarily forget that Damien is standing before me. I don't know what to say to him. Jason wasn't even my f*****g cousin. "Thank you for telling me, sir. I have no words."

"I'm assuming you'll want to send him back to your hometown to be buried. Give me the address, and I'll take care of it." He seems so different from the man who called me an i***t yesterday. I believe he really is sorry and is offering sincere condolences.

I nod." Of course. Thank you for your generosity." I don't know where he lives. Devon will have to find a way to fix this. I think of Jason's blue eyes and vibrant red hair. What a terrible waste. I don't even know what to think.

"Your cousin was a good man. I have—had—a lot of respect for him. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate. Inform my secretary, and all will be resolved."

If only he had known who Jason indeed was. "I'll do so." I walk him to the door. I feel numb. I'm lost. I never imagined something like this would happen. What will I do without him? He gave me advice and all instructions; he was a good person. This is terrible.

He hands me the suitcase. It's heavy. "This is for compensation. I'll leave you now." He doesn't even give me a chance to talk. He's gone before I can even exhale.

I close the door and carry the suitcase to the couch. I pop it open, and I see stacks of cash, all neatly aligned. This is a lot of money. I don't deserve this. I'm not his family.

My phone starts ringing in my room, and I think: Devon. I race to the room, but the caller ID says Mom. I consider not answering, but she must be worried. "Hey, mom."

"You didn't call me last night like you said you would."

"I was busy, mom. I worked all night, like at the bar. Remember?" Even as I'm talking to her, I'm thinking about how my life's become more complex. I'll be on my own from now on. I don't even know if Devon will end this mission altogether.

"I know; I'm sorry. I visited your brother this weekend. I told him about your new job, and he wasn't at all happy. Amelia? Are you listening to me?"

My phone vibrates. I get a text message. It's from an unknown number, so it must be Devon. "Mom? I'll call you back."

Meet me at the café down the street.

This must be Devon. I try to call the number, but it is off. I shove the suitcase under my bed. I grab my bag and fly out the door, not even bothering to lock it. Then, I go back up the flight of stairs—the money. I look for the spare he gave me and lock the door.

This was his apartment, will I have to move? What do I do now that Jason's dead? What becomes of me?

I didn't even know there was a café down the street. I ask an older man for instructions, and he points at an old sign. I walk inside. It's crowded. I see Devon's dark hair at the last table. He looks fairly casual in a black t-shirt. Is this his idea of undercover? He looks up, and I rush to him. I sit, and his coffee spills. He doesn't seem to notice that.

"Jason's—"

"Dead," he finishes for me. "I know."

"How'd you find out?" If he died earlier today, how could Devon possibly know? I'm stunned at how nonchalant he's being. He doesn't seem at all concerned, or maybe he's just hiding it well.

"News flies here. Besides, it was in the paper. No names, just details."

"What now?"

He seems genuinely confused by my question. "What do you mean?"

"The mission. What happens now?"

He sits back. "Nothing has changed, Amelia. You'll continue until you get me the name. Jason's death doesn't impede anything."

I frown. "He worked for you. How can you be so cold? Did he even have a family? Someone has to be informed."

"He had three children. I'll send the address later so you can forward it to Keller." He leans closer to me. "And it's not about being cold. We could all die at any second. He was well aware of what was at stake. What, did you expect me to shed a tear?"

His words catch me off-guard. "What if it were me? Would you act in this same deplorable, stand-offish way?"

He crosses his arms against his chest, and his thick brows draw together. "You're not him. You're family, Amelia. What makes you think your death wouldn't shake me to my core?"

I can't tell if he's being sincere or not. I look away. He continues. "Look, you've got to get used to this. Death, I mean. A lot of people around you will die. This is the dark world, no one's safe. I should've given you a heads-up, but I didn't want to scare you."

I press my fingertips against my temples. This conversation is giving me a migraine. "What about his family?"

He picks up his coffee. "They'll be taken care of. Don't worry about them. Just take care of yourself, Amelia. Get me that name, and you'll never have to deal with these people again." He pauses. "Unless you want to call it quits."

For a moment, I do. How easy would it be to return home to my old job where I poured cheap beer and not expensive whiskey? No one even owned a gun unless to hunt. No death was unexpected. People died of disease or old age. I'd be close to my mother, who I miss like hell, and all of this would be a bad dream. But I think of Aaron, rotting in a cell, watching the sun rise through thick bars. It breaks my heart. I can't give up now. He needs a chance to live. Everyone needs a second chance.

Something in the way he says it wonders if perhaps he's lying about taking care of Jason's family. He finishes his coffee and orders another. He smiles charmingly at the waitress, and she hurries away, blushing. He raises his brows when he finally looks my way again. "So, what do you say?"

"No, I'll see this through." I don't plan on giving up now. This deterred me, but it hasn't stopped me. I'm doing this for Aaron.

I don't tell him about the money. I've just realized that I can't trust him fully. I'll figure out what to do when the time comes.

I get back to the apartment and drop my bag on the couch. I go into his room and see all his things just lying around. What saddens me is that he'll never get to come back here. He's gone. And maybe I'll be next.

This has completely changed my perspective of things. This is life or death; It's not a game. I have to take a moment to get myself together and sort out my priorities. Damien Keller didn't say anything about me going back to work, but I'll go tonight. I can't waste time. I need to focus on this task and try to make it out alive.

I'll do whatever it takes.