The Heart System

We left the house in a hurry, the door pulled close but not fully shut behind us, and headed downstairs. The moment we stepped into the cold air, Tuck took out his phone and stepped aside to make a call. I went straight to the car, started the engine, blasted the AC, and leaned back, cursing under my breath.

"Things just got real, huh?"

A couple minutes later, Tuck opened the passenger door and slid in, letting the cool air wash over him. He sank into the seat, one hand adjusting the jacket that now hid the gun tucked at his belt.

"Man, what did you drag me into?" he muttered. "This is wild. Like... wild, wild, man."

"I know." I rubbed my face. "You got a hold of Greg? What did he say?"

"He's coming."

"We can't pull in the cops, Tuck," I said. "Guy has people in the force."

"This isn't official. Relax. Greg is tight. You can trust me."

"Hope you're right."

Then came the waiting. I stared out through the windshield as people strolled into the bowling alley, snow drifting down in lazy flakes. A few kids came from school, throwing snow at each other on the sidewalk. It could've been a peaceful winter scene, if I hadn't been sitting there wondering if Emilia was in danger because of me—wondering if Guy was already one step ahead.

After a while, Tuck blew out a breath and shifted in his seat. He looked tense too, hands never far from where his gun sat hidden.

"By the way," he said, eyes still scanning the area, "the station called me earlier, like a few weeks ago. Looks like Richard really screwed himself."

"He did," I said. "Stealing his ex's underwear, stalking her, then attacking her in broad daylight? He crossed every line he could."

"He's waiting on trial," Tuck said. "You think he'll do time?"

I shrugged. "I hope so. For Mendy's sake. She's been through enough."

"But you stepped in," he said, nudging my shoulder with a grin. "Playing hero."

"Yeah, sure," I said with a smirk.

He chuckled and then went back to watching the building across the lot. His eyes followed everyone entering Emilia's apartment, but only a few school kids had gone inside. Otherwise, nothing.

I still needed to go check on Mendy tonight, too. Kayla and her would be waiting. But none of that could happen until I found Emilia. Guy was still messing with my life even after I thought I was done with him. This idiot, I swear…

"Tell me about this Nala," Tuck said. "She solid?"

"Yeah. We clicked. Ran into her at a coffee shop."

"Lucky bastard. This her car?" He patted the dashboard. "It's a beauty."

"Right? It even has a decent dashboard."

"And heated seats." He stretched, sighing. "My ass is in paradise."

I snorted. "Remember your old car? Someone ripped your radio out."

"Don't remind me," he said, shaking his head. "Fuck that car. The radio was already broken before it was stolen."

We laughed softly, then fell quiet again. Greg was on his way, but it felt like forever. In reality, only six minutes had passed. Still, every one of them crawled. Waiting was the worst part.

A few moments later, a black sedan rolled up to the curb and stopped. The door opened, and out stepped the only man it could be. Greg the Gaper. He was towering, easily six foot eight, with broad shoulders and dark skin. His hair was short with waves that looked like he still cared for them despite his job and age. Forty-three, two kids, and his ring didn't sit on his finger. Instead, he wore it on a chain around his neck. I never understood the reasoning behind that. Maybe some habit or old promise.

"He's in casual clothes," I muttered. "Thought he'd show up in uniform."

"Told me he was on his off day," Tuck replied. "Come on."

We stepped out and moved toward him. Greg was checking his phone, probably making sure he had the right spot, when Tuck clapped him on the shoulder. Greg turned, grinned, and pulled him in for a quick hug.

"My man," Tuck said. "My man, my man."

"Big T," Greg answered, shifting the backpack on his shoulder. Then he looked at me. "Evan, right?"

"That's me." We shook hands.

"Hey, man."

"Hey."

He only knew me from a few short conversations at Tuck's job. Nothing personal, just enough to know each other's names.

"So what's this important thing?" Greg asked.

"Weird as hell," Tuck said, motioning for him to follow. "Come on, we'll show you."

"Okay, lead the way."

We headed inside the building. Once again, we buzzed all the doorbells, and someone tired or careless let us in. We hurried up the stairwell and stopped outside Emilia's door, left slightly open just as we'd arranged. Tuck's hand was already on the grip of the pistol in his waistband. Greg noticed immediately and raised a brow.

"Yo," he said. "Since when do I visit you and you're packing heat?"

"You'll see," Tuck muttered. "Just… be ready."

He pushed the door open, and we stepped inside the hollow apartment. Not a chair. Not a plate. Not even pictures left behind. Everything had been removed cleanly, almost surgically. I closed the door with a soft click behind us.

Tuck pointed upward. A faint splash of dark red near the ceiling paint, like someone had tried to wash it but didn't do a professional job.

"You see that?" Tuck asked. "Blood, right?"

Greg narrowed his eyes, leaned closer, then nodded. "Looks like it. And you two are definitely trespassing."

"This was a friend's place," I said. "We came to check on her. Found the entire place empty. No warning. No message. Just wiped out."

Greg turned to face us. "Who'd try to hurt her?"

"She's got enemies," I answered before Tuck could open his mouth.

If I mentioned Guy Nolin by name, Greg would walk right out or report it the official way. We needed him to stay. To help. So the truth could wait.

"Man, what am I doing here?" Greg sighed. "You two should report this to the station."

"It needs to be off the books," I said. "At least for now. If the wrong people know…"

Greg rubbed the back of his head. The man looked genuinely torn. His conscience battled with his badge.

"I can't," he muttered. "I'm not just some street rat anymore. I've got rules."

"Come on," Tuck said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "You owe me. And you know it."

Greg stared at him, dead serious this time.

"T, this isn't some bar fight. If this turns into something official, I'm screwed."

"Then help us before it does."

Greg blew out a long breath, closed his eyes for a second, and then nodded.

"Alright. Tomorrow night. Ten. I'll bring some stuff to check for hidden blood and whatever else they tried to clean. That's the best I can do."

"That works for me," Tuck said, glancing at me.

I nodded. "Thanks, Greg."

"Yeah, yeah," Greg muttered, shaking his head. "Let's get out. If something actually happened here, we shouldn't be hovering around."

He wasn't wrong. We headed out quietly, careful not to draw attention on the way down.

Tomorrow at ten. Finally, a lead. Someone had scrubbed the place, took everything, and tried to make sure no one could trace what happened. Now all we could do was wait and prepare for whatever we would uncover next.

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

I pulled up to the curb outside Kayla's building and killed the engine. A couple minutes later she stepped out of the lobby and, fuck, she looked unreal. Long, deep-blue dress that hugged every curve, neckline low enough to tease but still classy, slit up one leg flashing thigh with every step. Heels, hair down in soft waves, the whole package. She was carrying a bottle of red that definitely wasn't cheap.

She scanned the street, clearly not expecting a matte-black G-Wagon. I gave the horn a quick tap. Her head snapped toward me, eyes widening when she realized it was my car. She smiled, half amused, half impressed, and walked over.

I hopped out, rounded the hood, and opened the passenger door for her.

"Wow," she said, sliding in. "Actual gentleman."

"Only on special occasions," I shot back, shutting the door.

Heads turned as I walked back to the driver side. Couldn't blame them. We looked like we were headed to a gala, not a make-up dinner.

Kayla ran her fingers over the leather seats once I was behind the wheel. "Okay, seriously. I thought you got fired from the spa."

"I did."

"Then what the hell is this?"

"Maybe I've been secretly loaded this whole time," I said, easing us into traffic.

"Yeah, right. You used to work night shift at a gas station."

"Tips were excellent."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Uh-uh. Tips. Definitely."