The Criminal

Ch. 16: This doesn't change anything.

I bump into Torin who—upon seeing me—insists on a private chat. I follow him towards a quiet room, lingering on the threshold.

"What's wrong?"

I hesitate. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Maybe."

His joke fails to initiate laugher.

"No—Nicole—I won't kill you. Fiona won't let me."

I smile, both amused that Torin would listen to Fiona and horrified that they've even had this conversation to begin with. In what world is promising not to harm someone considered fucking normal?

"What did Shane want?"

I enter the room and close the door behind me, keen to block out any potential listeners.

"Did Lowes send you?"

Torin scowls. "No."

"What's it to you then?"

"I like to be kept in the loop," he explains. "Now tell me, Nicole."

His tone is by no means threatening, but it's still intimidating enough to play it safe. Torin may be the lesser of three evils, but he's still a mafia boss and I'll do well to remember it.

"He wants me to work for him. Nothing surprising there."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I wasn't looking."

Torin nods, fists clenched.

"Fiona told me you've got beef with him. With Murphy."

He huffs.

"I know what he did."

"Yeah, well..." he responds, pulling out a cigarette.

He lights it without asking and inhales, typing something on his phone. When he finishes, he shows me his screen and—more importantly—the words he's written.

Get Hunter and leave. Now.

He indicates with a nod to his head that we're being listened to and flicks his cigarette on the floor, stubbing it out on Lowes' cream carpet. I watch in shock as he pays no attention to the damage done and strides towards the door, holding it open for me. I exit and immediately go in search of Hunter, a little on edge regarding Torin's instruction. I have no idea if I can trust him or not, but figure Hunter will know what to do. Unfortunately, he's not where I left him and the main hall is so busy, I can barely see my left arm, let alone another person.

Bollocks!

I try calling him, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. In a last attempt to locate his whereabouts, I try the bathroom and am relieved when I can hear his voice coming from the room next door. I practically sprint towards it, bursting through the door like a tornado. He's pointing a gun at someone's head, his back turned to me.

"Hunter!"

He whips around, revealing a hard face.

"Nicole—I—"

Lowes emerges from the shadows with another man who—earlier—Fiona pointed out as another boss. Michael, I think he's called. Michael Banchini. They both smile, but nothing about the way in which they do so offers comfort.

"I'd like to get your opinion on something, Nicole," states Lowes, smirking.

I can't stop looking at Hunter and the gun he has pointed to someone's head.

"If you found a rat in your home, what would you do?"

I'm sure this is a trick question.

"I—I'd call someone."