Page 30 of Pieces Into Place

I move closer and pick up the frame, feeling the cold metal against my shaky hand. It’s a photo of Kane sitting in the grass with a beautiful Golden Retriever in his lap. He’s smiling widely, a look I’ve never seen on his face. I swear the dog is smiling, too. It’s almost enough to make me crack a smile of my own, but the truth is, this night has been something out of one of my worst dreams. I don’t think anything can thaw out the frost that has settled into my soul.

Kane comes back with a sweatshirt and sweats for me to put on over my clothing. As he moves about the apartment, he grabs various items to shove into his duffle bag. His movements are military-precise as he prepares to leave, which only heightens my anxiety that something terribly wrong is going to happen tonight. The duffle bag he places near the door bulges at an angle that suggests there are multiple guns inside along with other equipment and supplies that I cannot begin to imagine what their purpose would be for or what they hold.

“Go get changed. You’ll want warm clothes where we are going. They will be big, but that’s not what matters right now. I can get you more things in your size later.”

As I step into Kane’s bedroom, a chill runs down my spine, no doubt from the overwhelming combination of adrenaline and the fact that I’m undressing in his bedroom.

I quickly pull up the sweatpants and roll them over multiple times at the waist to keep them up. Then, I slide the oversized sweatshirt over my head, letting it fall until it reaches my knees. It’s soft to the touch and smells like him, giving me an immediate sense of comfort.

After hearing a noise from the doorway, I glance back to find Kane standing there with an intense look on his face. He shakes his head slightly before speaking. “Are you ready?”

We make our way into the living room where Kane has finished packing the large duffel and backpack, slung onto his shoulder. After opening up the garage door, he tosses the bags into the back of an old truck parked inside.

“We’re not taking the motorcycle?” I ask, grateful to have a warmer mode of transportation this time around. “No,” he replies as he moves over to the passenger side of the vehicle and opens the door for me. “We need a truck where we are going.”

I hop in and Kane closes the door, then he moves around to his own side of the vehicle and gets in, stopping to place his gun securely in a spot by the center console. The truck rumbles to life and we back out before stopping for Kane to jump out and replace the now empty truck space with his motorcycle. It only takes a few strides of his long legs before he makes it back to the truck and gets back in, offering me a soft smile before shifting into reverse again.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks, to my surprise. Normally my comfort is not his first priority.

“Yes.” I nod.

“We will be driving for a few hours. There’s water in the backpack and a blanket if you get cold.”

“Say no more,” I reply, and reach into the backpack to pull out a warm, fuzzy blanket. “Oh, this is going to do just fine,” I say, earning me a smile from Kane.

“How did they find me?” I ask after another minute.

He shakes his head while checking the rearview mirror. “I’m not sure. I noticed a black SUV earlier at the school. I took note of the plate and then this afternoon I saw it again. It drove by your apartment several times. I had Henry run a check on it, and it came back registered to a guy named Marco Donati. Does that name mean anything to you?” he asks.

I bite my lip as I try to recall all of the names I’ve heard over the years in Shaemus’s company. There were so many, but it was just so long ago. “No, it doesn’t,” I reply.

“He’s a known associate of Profaci’s. He’s got a reputation for being a guy who does the dirty work,” he offers, checking his rearview mirror again.

“By dirty work, you mean he’s a killer?” I ask with a shaky voice.

“Yes,” he answers, as he reaches over and gently squeezes my knee, sending warmth through me. It’s probably a benign gesture that he’s made without giving it much thought, but it means the world to me. I’m not alone for the first time in a very long time.

“Don’t worry, Olivia. I got to you first. We’re going to be fine.”

“Thank you, Kane,” I whisper, turning to look out the window so he doesn’t see the lone tear rolling down my cheek.

I know there are more things I want to say to him, and questions I want to ask, but for the time being, I’m comfortable sitting in the car, snuggled in my blanket and listening to John Fogerty’s distinctive, rough timbre as “Creedence Clearwater Revival” comes through the stereo. I’m sure Kane is probably feeling the same way, staring ahead in deep thought, likely about what to do now to keep us safe. It’s not the time for conversation, and I’m fine with that, for now.

Chapter sixteen

Olivia

I awaken to the cold air caressing my cheek and the sound of tires crushing over thick, packed snow and ice. I move my stiff neck to the left to find that my face had been pressed against the window. The sun is just beginning to rise, illuminating the winter wonderland before me.

I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep, lulled into peace by the melody of the radio and the heat circulating through the car.

I look over at Kane who is, per usual, serious and stoic. “Where are we?” I ask, stretching my arms above my head and trying to shake the sleep out of my system.

“Almost to Lake Tahoe,” he answers.

“I’ve always wanted to come to Lake Tahoe,” I reply, looking around with the wonderment of someone who hasn’t seen snow in a very long time. “It’s beautiful.”

Kane nods once but remains quiet. Of course, he does. After what happened earlier he’s lost his footing. Now, he has to do a factory reboot back to Major Private Asshole, or whatever his rank and title is. I’m fairly sure that’s it.