Veil of Lies Page 3

  “Hey, no problem.” They puffed up at her choice of words, no doubt pleased with themselves. “If we’d noticed what was going down, we would have got here sooner. The bastard wouldn’t have stood a chance against us.”

  “I’m sure.” She smiled again, accepting the bag of groceries that was handed to her, hugging it and her purse to her chest. “I’m going to head home now. Thanks again.”

  Not wanting anyone to see how truly shaken she was, she walked away with her head up and her pace steady. When she reached the entrance of her building, she glanced back. The young men were still standing at the sight of the mugging, talking and high-fiving each other. The tale would grow to epic proportions before the night was over. At least her name wouldn’t be part of it. Anonymity was one of the bonuses of living in a big city.

  She entered the building, only relaxing when the door shut behind her and she was safely ensconced in the familiarity of the foyer.

  When she’d first come to the city, she’d envisioned living in some swanky high-rise, maybe even meeting a rich executive like you’d read about in a book. Now she was happy to be in her old walk-up with no air conditioning. It had been a nice enough place in its day but, like the rest of the neighbourhood, it was showing its age. In a few years, it would probably be turned into upscale condos but for the time being it was shabby yet affordable, the latter being the important consideration.

  Before heading upstairs, she took one last look outside, scanning the street. Not that a mugger would stay in the area, she assured herself. He’d be off spending her tip money or trying to use her credit card. She’d need to cancel it and her debit card, too. And replace her ID. Damn!

  She began the climb to her apartment. The stairs were good for her butt, or so she told herself each time she made the trek up the numerous flights. Unfortunately, it was also hotter, the warmth from the other units rising to hers while the sun beat down on the flat roof, turning her place into an oven. It had been hard enough to find an apartment within her budget and close to work, amenities like A/C were out of her reach.

  By the time she was at her door, sweat had her glasses sliding down her nose and the tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail sticking to her cheeks. She fumbled with the key, trying to fit it into the lock and had just succeeded when the door suddenly swung open.

  “Hey there, Lulu. Perfect timing.” Roxi, her roommate, grinned at her not seeming to notice her reaction. Instead, she reached for the bag of groceries and emptied the contents on the entryway table. “You remembered the bread. Yay! I’m starved.”

  “Yes, I remembered.” She pushed the door shut and locked it then gave the handle an extra tug just to be sure.

  “How was your day?” Roxi didn’t wait for an answer and continued talking as she made her way to the kitchen. “Mine was miserable.” She frowned at the misshapen loaf. “What happened to this?”

  “I...er…dropped it. What made your day miserable?” She didn’t want to talk about her own experience yet, needing time to absorb the comfort and safety of being home behind a locked door. On autopilot, she picked up the milk and cheese from where Roxi had dumped them; the girl really was a slob.

  “I had a go-around with my mother again.” Roxi was smearing peanut butter on a slice of bread, her shiny black hair pulled back in a high ponytail that bobbed with each movement.

  Roxanne Dominique Accardo was perpetually hungry yet never seemed to gain an ounce, her figure model-thin whereas Lou’s tended to be more rounded. It wasn’t a fact that bothered her too much; the world needed a variety of shapes to keep things interesting, right?

  “I should have known better than to call her.” Roxi spoke around a mouthful of food.

  “Is she upset because she hates your new boyfriend, Joe, or whatever his name is?”

  “No. I dumped him last night. Good riddance, too. He was a douche. Make that an asshole and a douche!”

  “Oh.” She side-stepped around Roxi to put the groceries away, then took an apple out of the fridge, not because she was hungry but because it gave her something to do while she listened to Roxi’s diatribe.

  In the time they’d been roomies, she’d learned Roxi’s family relationship was volatile, mostly due to Roxi not wanting to join the family business. Exactly what that business was, she wasn’t sure; Roxi was always vague on that point. Once she had even asked, half-jokingly, if it had to do with organized crime.

  Roxi had laughed. “Not every Italian is part of the mob, you know! Besides, do you think I’d be living in a place like this if I had connections?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Well, there you go!” Roxi had cracked her gum and then widened her eyes so she looked exceptionally innocent, which had left Lou wondering how truthful her answer had been. However, she was a decent roommate so it was probably wise not to ask too many questions.

  Now, it seemed Roxi’s mother was complaining about her current job. “Mom doesn’t like me working at a dry cleaners. She said she’s read about the chemicals being bad for you.”

  “I’m sure they are.”

  “Yeah, but I find great stuff in the pockets of the garments people bring in.”

  “Stuff? Like money?” The comment caught her attention.

  “Sometimes, but I return that. I mean bits of paper, receipts. You never know when there might be interesting information.”

  “Should I ask what you do with those interesting bits of information?” She shifted, not feeling comfortable with where the conversation was going.

  Roxi cocked her head and appeared to think for a minute before grinning and giving a wink. “No. Probably not.”

  Past experience had taught her she didn’t want anything to do with shady dealings; it had almost gotten her killed last time. Nope, she’d play deaf and dumb to that aspect of Roxi’s life. Setting down the uneaten apple, she blurted out her own news.

  “I was mugged on the way home.”

  “What? Why didn’t you say something?” Roxi turned in the middle of getting a glass from the cupboard and fixed her with an incredulous stare.

  “I…”

  In typical Roxi fashion, she didn’t wait for a reply, beginning an inquisition while turning her this way and that. “Are you hurt? There’s a scrape on your arm and your cheek. I can’t believe I didn’t notice. I’ll call the cops and—”

  “No. I’m okay. You don’t have to call anyone. The guy is long gone.” She brushed Roxi away. “I’m just shaken up.”

  “Well, yeah, of course you are! Who wouldn’t be?” Roxi planted her hands on her hips and gave her a hard stare. “The bastard didn’t do anything to you, did he? Grab your boobs or something like that?”

  She gave a snort of laughter. Roxi was always to the point. “No. He wanted my purse, not my body.”

  “You fought him off?” Roxi nodded towards the purse that she’d dropped on the chair.

  “I tried. Sort of. It all happened so fast.” She glanced down at her finger and wiggled it experimentally. It wasn’t dislocated just a bit swollen and there was a streak of blood showing under the nail. “We had a tug of war over the purse. He won and ran off before I could even think to do anything else. Some guys saw what was going on and came to my rescue. They found the purse minus my tips and wallet.”

  “Guys? The ones at the corner working on the car?” Roxi glanced towards the window. If you craned your neck just right, you could see the location in question. “I saw them earlier. Some of them are sort of hot.”

  “I didn’t notice. They were real nice to me, though.” She adjusted her glasses, wondering if one of the side pieces was bent—the whole world seemed askew—or maybe it was just the greasy smears from the fingers of the young man who’d picked them up. Did automotive grease wash off easily?

  “Hmm...” Roxi tapped a finger to her lip. “Next time I walk by, I might have to thank them for saving you.”

  She barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Sure, you do that.”
>
  “So you’re going to spend the night on the phone, reporting all your cards stolen?”

  “Something like that.” Her stomach gave a nervous twist as she considered one call she’d have to make.

  “Want me to cancel my shift? Stay with you and keep you company?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she winced as she encountered the scrape on her arm and angled the limb so she could see the injured area. “I should go wash this off and put some peroxide on it.” She stared at the abrasion but made no move. The simple act seemed gargantuan.

  Roxi poured some milk and watched her over the rim of the glass as she drank. After finishing, she rinsed it out. “I think you’re more shook up than you’re letting on.”

  “Probably, but I’m a big girl. Hundreds of people get mugged every day and the world keeps turning.” She tried to inject some life into her voice. “I’ll make some phone calls, have a shower, watch a comedy. You don’t need to fuss over me.”

  Roxi looked doubtful. “I can mention what happened to Jimmy, have him watch out for anyone hanging around the building if it would make you feel any better.”

  Jimmy lived on the first floor and was the building superintendent. A retired cop, he also served as a watchdog for the building…most of the time. A love of alcohol and increasing age hindered his abilities on occasion. However, when he was sober, he could still be imposing having never lost that commanding stare and authoritative bark.

  “No. Well…okay.” She hesitated. “The mugger probably won’t show up around here again, but I suppose it can’t hurt.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you a call later on to make sure you’re all right. And if you need something, let me know. I can close up early.”

  “And lose your job in the process.”

  “So?” Roxi shrugged. “It would make my mother happy.”

  She laughed and gave the girl a hug. “You don’t have to jeopardize your career in laundry for me. Now scoot or you’ll be late.”

  Roxi grabbed her purse and keys. “Lock up behind me.”

  “I always do.”

  After Roxi left, she secured the door and then stood in the small entrance way. She was alone in the apartment, just like most nights. It wasn’t very big; a kitchen on the right that was separated from the combo dining/living room by a half-wall with a countertop that served as a breakfast bar. Straight ahead was a hallway leading to two bedrooms and a bathroom. It was simple but fulfilled her needs.

  Since the incident a few years back, her life had been quiet.

  No evenings at the bar or having fun with a boyfriend, her old self mourned.

  “Right, because our life is going in a different direction this time.”

  It’s not very exciting, nothing like we dreamed city life would be like.

  “But it’s safe and respectable and no one can judge us.”

  She pushed off from the door and, after checking the lock on the window that led to the fire escape, headed to the bathroom to inspect her scrapes.

  The abrasions were minimal as she’d suspected, stinging more than anything else. Planning to tend to them after her shower, she shed her work clothes and stepped under the soothing spray to wash away the cares of the day. When she finally felt clean, she lowered the water temperature until she was covered in goose bumps and then turned off the water.

  It was good to be chilled. Too bad it wouldn’t last. Padding to her room, she donned the coolest clothes she could find and was just going to start combing out her hair when a sound had her pausing. Were the floor boards creaking in the hall outside her apartment? Her stomach did a flip-flop as she remembered her stolen ID. The mugger would know where she lived.

  Slowly, silently, she set her comb down and focused her attention on listening. Minutes ticked past as she stood, muscles tense. Only the sound of her own breathing reached her ears.

  No one was there. It must have been her imagination or maybe the heat was making the wood expand. She wasn’t sure if that was possible, but clung to the explanation because it was preferable to thinking someone had been outside her door. The apartment was at the end of the hall and there was no reason for anyone to be walking by.

  Her old self came to the foreground. No cowering.

  Picking up the baseball bat she kept by her bed, she stepped out of her room.

  The apartment was quiet.

  The door to the hall was closed and locked.

  No shadow showed under the crack near its base.

  Gaining confidence, she took a deep breath and walked towards the entrance then looked through the peephole. It showed the familiar faded beige wall opposite her apartment and nothing else. No shadowy shapes, no inexplicably burned out light bulbs. Just…normal.

  She exhaled loudly, her shoulders slumping. Obviously, the events of the day were playing games with her mind. That had to be it. Giving her head a shake, she returned the bat to its place beside her bed and finished combing her hair before putting it up in a messy bun. Next, she tended to her scrapes and finally grabbed her small fan. She’d set it by the window and draw in the relatively cooler night air.

  Her actions stuttered to a halt as she caught a glimpse of a black limo disappearing around the corner and her mind transported her back in time...

  The black car outside the apartment. The door opening. An explosion of pain then lying in a pool of blood, feeling her life force fading away… She felt faint as memories from the past washed over her.

  It couldn’t be. Not after all this time…could it?

  Panic tightened her chest, any remnants of her braver former self fading away. Her vision blurred, and she struggled to breathe. Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and, crouching in the corner on the far side of her bed, placed a call to the only person who could help her, the only person who knew the truth. She said she’d never make contact again, that that part of her life was over, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  Her hands trembled as she brushed the hair from her eyes and listened to the phone ring. Was the number even correct? After so many years, it could have changed.

  Please answer, please answer. She mentally chanted the words, her fear growing each minute.

  “Hello?” A familiar, gruff voice sounded in her ear and, like some miracle drug, it filled her with relief.

  Her tense muscles relaxed, a sense of safety washing over her. Memories of another time, another life, rushed in as if a plug had been pulled and unexpected tears pricked her eyes.

  “Hello? Who is this?” Impatient, demanding; he’d not changed.

  Her breathing hitched. She opened her mouth to speak then paused, wondering if she’d made a mistake, but it was too late to change her mind now. Besides, she needed him, needed his help. Her ID was gone, and he was the only one who knew, who would understand why she couldn’t just replace it.

  She wet her lips and forced herself to reply. “Hi, Ryne. It’s me.”

  Chapter 2

  Ryne shut off the garden hose. “Pool’s ready.”

  Melody emerged from the house carrying their baby girl, Grace. “Let her play until she’s good and tired.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.” He barely suppressed a yawn. “If she’s tired enough we might get some sleep ourselves.”

  “Right.” Melody set the baby in the water. “I promise I won’t be gone long.”

  “Take all the time you need. We’ll be fine together.” He snagged a lawn chair and set it near the plastic wading pool. He’d been careful to place the pool in the shade so the baby wouldn’t burn yet not too close to the trees where there would be more bugs. It was just after dinner, later than they’d usually think of having her play in the water, however these were desperate times.

  “I’ve put sunscreen on her. Don’t forget to light the citronella candle to keep mosquitos away and—”

  “Melody, I’ve got this.” He took his mate by the shoulders and gave her a gentle kiss. “Go on your way.”

  She he
sitated and then nodded. “Okay. Have fun.” Taking the keys from her purse, she headed around the corner of the house to where the cars were parked.

  He shook his head. She was a devoted mother but at times went slightly overboard. He was capable of caring for his little girl. After all, he was an Alpha and that’s what Alphas did, care for their pack members, even the pint-sized ones.

  Sitting down in the lawn chair, he sighed. He was tired. A heat wave had gripped the continent, extending its blistering tentacles as far north as Stump River and beyond. He’d become used to the relative coolness of a northern summer and this sudden change had him and everyone else hot and irritable.

  Summer in northern Canada had its challenges. Mosquitos, deer flies… He swatted at one of the pesky bugs then wiped the sweat from his face on the pink and purple towel he had ready for Grace.

  Yeah, he was used to bugs. This much heat. No.

  He didn’t bother to check the thermometer again, knowing what he’d see; way too much red. Everyone was talking about the record-breaking temperatures and grumbling about global warming. That was why Melody had gone into town; she was hoping to interview some of the locals for an article. She worked for the town newspaper that was published once a week. There was never much news to report and she often bemoaned how difficult it was to find something new and interesting to write about.

  “There are only so many times I can report on a brawl at the Broken Antler or Mr. VanderSompel complaining that the local kids are too noisy when they skateboard past his house.”

  He agreed with her to a certain point. Nothing ever happened in Stump River, but that was how he liked it. His days of living on the wild side were over. Being Alpha to his pack and helping raise his daughter was enough for him.

  And speaking of his daughter…

  He smiled down at Grace. She was adorable with her mother’s big brown eyes and a heart-grabbing grin. The boys would be chasing her someday and he intended to be there to put a healthy dose of fear into each and every suitor.