Page 91 of Jig's Last Dance
The question is—how?
∞∞∞
I don’t want to go to Jig’s because I can’t imagine facing him after his ice out. I can’t ignore it forever, but I’d like a little more time before I have to face the music.
With nowhere else to turn, I text Shawn, relieved when she responds immediately and agrees to meet me at the bridge. The bridge is now defunct but used to be a part of the train line that brought people and supplies through our small town a long time ago.
I’m still in the wrap dress and heels, but it’ll have to do, although I cast Shawn a sour look when she looks me over with a snicker.
“Here,” she says and pulls out a pair of combat boots from the trunk of her car.
Gratefully, I switch them out for the heels and follow her up the hill to the bridge.
It’s fucking cold, but I ignore the chill as we join our peers, and she grabs a bottle of alcohol from the nearest hand.
She passes it my way, not even taking a drink herself, and I raise a brow.
“You look like you need it more than I do,” she says.
“True,” I rasp, taking a healthy gulp before handing it back to her.
We trade it back and forth until someone grabs it from over her shoulder. With the warm glow suffusing my veins, I follow her to the edge and sit down beside her, my feet dangling over the side.
Shawn turns her head. I can see her frown by the light of the moon. “What’s wrong, Ali?”
Sighing, I bang my head gently against the railing. “Everything I knew about my life is a lie.”
She cocks her head to the side, and I continue because I need her. I just hope I’m not bringing trouble to her door. “You know about my dad working for Castinetti. But apparently, he was a hit man.”
“Holy shit,” she breathes.
“Yeah, and I’m not sure, but I think my mom was having an affair.”
Shawn blinks, and I smile bitterly. “I found pictures.”
After explaining what I saw, Shawn says slowly, “That doesn’t mean she actually slept with him.”
“True,” I say miserably, “but I found some things about my dad, and Castinetti freaked out. He insisted I work for him.”
“Wait, back up. What?”
“He has me acting as a go-between, but Shawn, I think my dad might not be dead.”
She stares at me wide-eyed. “I think we need more alcohol for this.”
Laughing, I cover a sob while she tracks down more booze. After, I explain the damn keys, the weird shit with John, and Sal’s words earlier.
“I heard Sal does some really scary shit,” she murmurs.
“Scary how?”
“It’s only what I overheard. My brothers never tell me anything,” she grumbles. “But I heard one of his goons went to prison because he took a girl out to the mountains and hunted her.”
“Come again?” I whisper, my skin chilled.
“I didn’t get the particulars but that he set her loose and hunted her down before, you know, killing her.”
“That’s fucking disgusting,” I breathe, covering my mouth. Shit. I might throw up.