Chapter 3 - NOAH
“Pack a bag.”
Harper stared at Gabriel across his enormous kitchen.
“What?”
“You and Noah are moving.”
“No.”
Gabriel calmly poured coffee.
“You enjoy arguing with people before breakfast?”
“I enjoy deciding where my little brother lives.”
“Fair.”
“Then stop deciding for me.”
Gabriel slid a cup toward her.
Harper didn’t touch it.
He had ordered one of his drivers to pick her up at six in the morning after she had barely slept.
Now she stood in his kitchen wearing jeans, an old sweater, and irritation.
Gabriel looked annoyingly rested.
“Your apartment has one entrance, broken locks, and no security.”
“You investigated my apartment?”
“I had someone look.”
“That’s called spying.”
“That’s called staying alive.”
Harper crossed her arms.
“I’m not becoming your prisoner just because Derek is dangerous.”
Gabriel’s face softened slightly.
“I never said you’d live here.”
“Then where?”
“I own apartments in Back Bay.”
Her laugh was sharp.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“I can’t afford Back Bay.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Exactly.”
He understood.
She didn’t want debt.
Especially not to him.
Gabriel leaned against the counter.
“Fine. Work for it.”
Harper narrowed her eyes.
“You already pay me.”
“Then consider it employee housing.”
“You don’t give the gardeners luxury apartments.”
“They aren’t being hunted by a violent police officer.”
That ended the argument for several seconds.
Gabriel pushed his phone across the counter.
A photograph showed Derek outside Noah’s elementary school.
Harper went pale.
“When?”
“Thirty minutes ago.”
Her chair scraped backward.
“Noah.”
“He isn’t there.”
Harper looked up.
“I had Mrs. Morrison get him.”
“You what?”
“Before Derek arrived.”
Harper’s anger exploded.
“You picked up my brother without asking me?”
“Yes.”
“You had no right!”
“No.”
The answer stopped her.
Gabriel didn’t defend himself.
“I had no right. But I had ten minutes and a man with a badge driving toward an eight-year-old boy.”
Harper’s throat tightened.
“Where is Noah?”
“Library.”
She ran.
Gabriel followed.
Harper burst through the double doors.
Noah sat on a leather couch holding a comic book almost as large as his chest.
Mrs. Morrison sat nearby.
When he saw Harper, he jumped up.
“Harper!”
She dropped to her knees and pulled him against her.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
“The fancy lady bought me pancakes.”
Mrs. Morrison looked offended.
“I am not fancy.”
Noah whispered loudly, “She is.”
Harper laughed despite herself.
Then Noah noticed Gabriel.
He went quiet.
Gabriel stopped several feet away.
Noah leaned toward Harper.
“Is that the gangster?”
Harper nearly choked.
Mrs. Morrison looked at the ceiling.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“Who told you that?”
“The internet.”
Gabriel nodded seriously.
“Never trust the internet.”
Noah considered that.
“Did you kill anybody?”
“NOAH.”
“What? Everybody at school says gangsters kill people.”
Gabriel crouched.
He looked Noah in the eye.
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”
Harper watched carefully.
“But I’m not going to hurt your sister.”
Noah’s small face hardened.
“Derek says that too.”
The room changed.
Gabriel went very still.
Noah looked down.
“He always says sorry after.”
Harper’s eyes burned.
“Noah…”
“He hurt you really bad last time.”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
His voice cracked.
“You cough at night.”
Harper hugged him tighter.
Noah began crying.
“I thought he killed you.”
Gabriel looked away.
His jaw clenched.
A few minutes later, Harper took Noah to the kitchen.
Mrs. Morrison remained behind.
Gabriel stood at the window.
“You heard the boy,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
“You’re thinking something foolish.”
Gabriel didn’t answer.
Mrs. Morrison sighed.
“You cannot fix every cruel man with a grave.”
Gabriel looked at her reflection.
“No.”
He picked up his phone.
“But I can destroy his badge.”
Across town, Derek walked into the evidence room at Precinct 12.
He opened a locked cabinet.
A package of confiscated heroin was missing.
So was thirty thousand dollars in cash.
Derek’s face drained of color.
A lieutenant appeared behind him.
“Lawson.”
Derek turned slowly.
May you like
The lieutenant held up a file.
“Internal Affairs wants to talk to you.”
