Chapter Twenty-One
Nate’s been glued to his phone for the last god knows how many hours. He’s not let me out of the apartment either, insisting on collecting the take out himself. Not that he stopped whatever it is he’s doing to have a conversation with me. His laptop takes up the rest of the room on the small dining table off the kitchen.
I wanted to come to Antwerp to escape all the cloak and dagger stuff. To feel safe. And now it feels like I’ve just got closer to it.
“Nate?” I call from the sofa, hoping he can take a break from his ‘work’.
“Do you have a laptop here?” he mumbles, his eyes never leaving the screen in front of him as his fingers pound the keys.
“Um, yeah, why?”
“I need it. Bring it to me.” I stare, waiting for some manners, until he looks at my arched brow. “Please, Gabby,” he grates out.
I dutifully fetch the device from the bedroom and hand it over. Nate doesn’t even glace up at me; he just opens it up and sets about running his fingers across both sets of keys.
“I’m going to bed.” I sound like a grumpy child, but right now, that’s how I feel—abandoned and afraid of a veiled threat. I’ve not heard from Andreas, or Mortoni for that matter. Nate might have blown all of this out of proportion. I still hope for that scenario. Yet, in my gut, I know that’s not going to be the case. Not with the name Yakuza being thrown around.
I leave him to whatever it is he’s doing and slink off to bed. Maybe tomorrow will bring some answers to the questions I have racing around in my mind.
* * *
It was difficult to sleep. Shadows and figures haunted my mind all night, and I couldn’t get comfortable or find comfort. When I wake, the bed’s empty next to me. The low glow from the screens in the next room is the only light in the place. A steady tapping continues. Silent tears slip past my lashes and onto the pillow, making a damp spot next to my cheek. How am I going to work this out, keep my brother alive and Nate out of danger?
A voice works its way into my mind, one that makes me feel warm, calm. He’s not talking to me, though. I peek at him from behind my lashes and see his phone is surgically attached to his hand again.
“Who?” I mouth to him after opening my eyes and getting his attention.
He doesn’t respond but turns to look at me as he speaks. “No, Quinn. Nothing. I’ll check in again later. Get some sleep. I will.” He ends the call and lets out a sigh as if he’s been awake all night.
“Morning. How’s your brother?”
“Fucking frustrated. He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have all the information.”
“Please, Nate. I’ve told you everything I know. I’ve only ever heard of the Yakuza, and I don’t know why they’d be interested in diamonds.”
“But your brother controls the access to the port in Miami?”
“He has a marina, but it’s a front. He has people on the inside of the port, on Dodge Island. Officials, I guess. He’s not physically at the port but controls what happens there.”
“And the arrangements with Mortoni are new?”
“I’m not sure. The part with the diamonds is. Andreas has never involved me as much as this before.”
“I’m betting it’s your brother and Marco’s connections that got the Yakuza involved. From what Quinn has sent through, they don’t have a strong foothold in Florida yet. The port in Miami is key for running any drugs or trafficking. Exploiting any weakness to it would be a strategic hit, one that Quinn would certainly take.”
I don’t answer and pull the covers back over my head. Listening to all the crime talk turns my stomach. This wasn’t what coming to Antwerp was about. It was an escape—like Bora—and so far, it’s done nothing but cage us.
“You think you’ve been followed at all since this shit started?”
“Maybe? The airport, perhaps.”
“Seriously? Fuck, Gabby. Why didn’t you say earlier?” I don’t answer. I’m done talking about it. “Gabby?” No, I’m hiding beneath these sheets until he stops talking. “I need to know. If you didn’t open my laptop while we were there, then maybe someone was following you all along.”
“Stop, Nate. I’ve had enough.” I throw the covers back over my head, so I can make sure there’s no mistaking my intention. “This wasn’t what I wanted to happen here. We were meant to escape all the fear and plotting, not walk into more.”
“I’m not going to take any chances with you. You have to realise that. We need to figure this shit out.” He finally swings himself from the table to face me. “Idamn well need to.”
My teenage pout is actress worthy. I need to find something to distract me or I’ll go insane. I’ve been holed up in here too long, and I’m ready to break out. Instead, I head over to the concealed safe in the wardrobe. The four-digit code and fingerprint recognition keep some of my pieces safe. Christophe looks after the rest. For a fee.
