Page 88 of Between Steel and Secrets
“We have to call the cops,” Harper says, walking into the living room, the gun still in her hand.
That’s the worst idea. I can’t let her do that. “No. Stop. Think about what you’re saying.”
“It was self-defense!” Harper raises her voice and winces when Zeke begins howling even louder.
“You and I know that, but the police—we can’t trust them.” Does she not realize the cops aren’t on our side?
“You’re just saying that because your father is mafia. We can trust the police,” Harper says and reaches for her phone.
I snatch it out of her hand.
“Promise me, not until we talk to Luca and Ashton.” I don’t want her making things worse than they already are.
“I can’t get ahold of him right now. They’re at practice. I can’t just show up, either, I’m covered in blood!” Harper glances at her appearance.
“Shower. Change,” I reason with her.
“But there’s evidence. I’m covered in evidence. I can’t—” She shakes her head. “Won’t the cops have heard the gunshots?”
I shrug. I’m not sure if anyone would have reported the gunfire. They could just as easily believe it to be from the thunderstorm if we’re lucky.
I keep cuddling Zeke, who has a bit of blood dried to his cheeks from the splatter, and I take him into the kitchen to wipe away the remnants.
“What are you doing?” Harper is right on my heel, following my every move.
“Cleaning your son.” I gape at her, the gun still in her hand. “Put that thing away before you accidentally discharge it.”
She stalks off while I run the sink, sit Zeke at the edge of the counter and dip the kitchen towel under the lukewarm water. I wipe at his rosy cheeks, which are both red from crying and from dried blood. He has a little in his hair, too, which I try to wipe clean.
“But that’s evidence,” Harper pleads with me, her eyes red-rimmed, and I realize she’s holding on to her sanity by a thread.
I understand her rationale, her reasoning for wanting to call the police, she’s trying to justify what she’s done—to herself, maybe even to us.
Sighing, I glance at her for a brief moment. “Text Luca.” I try to be the voice of reason. I offer her back her phone. “Don’t call him and don’t say anything incriminating.” I don’t trust that she can keep herself together if she’s on the phone. She’s about ready to break, I can see it in the tremor in her hands, the fluctuation in her breathing, and the slight crack in her voice.
“So, I shouldn’t tell him I just killed the man who tried abducting my son?” Harper mocks, her brow furrowed, and I see past her dark humor, for the fresh pain she’s harboring.
“Not funny, Harper.”
With her back to me, I text my father.
Trouble.
He doesn’t even respond via text; immediately, he calls me on the encrypted line.
“What the hell is going on?” Dad’s always right to the point. I suppose he’s used to dealing with messes, they’re just not usually mine.
“There was a break-in this evening. Some guy with a snake tattoo went after Zeke.” I’m hesitant to give any more specifics, encrypted or not, I have my own worries.
“The child?” Dad asks. Two words. He wants to know if he’s been taken or harmed.
“Fine. The assailant has been stopped but?—”
“Say no more,” he cuts me off before I can tell him there’s some cleaning up to do.
Harper spins around when she realizes I’m on the phone. “Who the hell are you talking to?”
“My father,” I say.
