Wounded Redemption by Brook Wilder
Chapter 8
Rory
“Are you sure you will be okay?”
I drew in a breath as I looked up at the building that was achingly familiar, even though it had been a while since I had stepped inside, before glancing back at the guard. “Yeah, I will be fine.”
Vincent’s brows knit together. “I can come up, you know. Nico would want me to clear the way.”
Giving him a little smile, I reached for the door handle. “It’s okay, really. I will be fine, I swear. I have my knife if needed.”
I heard Vincent mutter something about balls as I climbed out, taking in the beautiful morning. It really shouldn’t be this nice, given the reason I was here. With everything going on between Carmine and Nico, I hadn’t really had a chance to properly mourn Harper or visit his offices.
The funny thing was, I had received a copy of his will and had brought it with me to open in a place that felt familiar.
Here. His office.
I stepped inside and took the elevator up to the floor, glad that it was the weekend and the majority of the people were gone. There was only a skeleton crew coming to the building anyway, to help with the printing, but everything else was done remotely because of the pandemic. I really didn’t want to talk to anyone about his death, and even though it had been a week or more since that day where my world fell apart, it still hurt.
That, and there was the matter of what to do with his body. I felt like crap knowing I had left him in the morgue all this time. There was no doubt in my mind that he had died because of what I had dragged him into.
And I had ignored him up until this point. Some good friend I was.
With a sigh, I used the keys that had been among his personal effects and let myself into his office, my eyes watering at the lingering smell of the cigars he loved to puff away on when he was burning the late-night oil. The office was just like I remembered it, with stacks of loose papers and copies of previous papers all over the space. His old, worn leather chair sat turned from the desk like he had just left it. A tear slid down my cheek, but I forced myself to sit in the chair, turning it toward the desk.
I still couldn’t believe he was gone, and my heart ached in my chest as I thought about never seeing his grin or hearing him cuss like a sailor when he was up against a deadline.
I missed him more than anyone in my life.
After a moment, I pulled out the envelope from my pocket and opened the flap, extracting the thick bundle of papers. Harper owned the Midtown Post, so there was likely legal paperwork to go through to sell it. For some reason he had named me as his next of kin, so I assumed that I would be in charge of selling the paper and the rest of his holdings.
The thought didn’t sit well with me.
Opening the paper, I began to read, and it wasn’t long before I realized exactly what Harper had done. He had left everything to me. The paper, his apartment, his hunting cabin, even his leather jacket were all outlined in the documents. There was a tidy sum of money he had set aside for his wife, Alice, but the rest of his personal funds outside of the money that came with the paper, totaling more than a million dollars, were mine.
“Stupid,” I whispered as I scanned the document. I couldn’t believe Harper. He had given it all to me to do, as it was documented, the best job I could do in keeping it legit. It had been a running joke between us, that the paper only stood for tabloid-type material and nothing else, and time and again, I would come to him with a legit article that he would laugh at, stating we weren’t a reputable paper.
God, I missed him.
When had he made this decision? Surely it wasn’t before I had married Nico. I mean, I loved Harper. He was like a father to me, but to do this? I couldn’t believe he had done something so, well, so big.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Looking up, I found Harper’s wife, Alice, in the doorway, a smile on her ruby-red lips. She looked tired, with pronounced circles under her eyes and her normal done-up-self not as polished as I was used to seeing her. “Alice,” I said, motioning for her to come in. “I was just—”
“Reading his will?” she supplied, walking into the office. “You know I fully expect for him to jump out at any moment and yell surprise. It’s the sort of messed-up shit he would have done.”
I swallowed as she took the chair across from me, gazing around the office as if she saw him in everything. I did. I saw him standing by the window that overlooked the alleyway, arguing on the phone. I saw him hunched over his desk, furiously making edits so he could meet a deadline for the paper.
I saw him standing out on the floor, watching as the paper slipped off the machine so he could ensure there was nothing wrong with the front page. “It’s all they see,” he told me once as he held up the front page. “No one gives a shit about what’s between the pages. You gotta make sure it’s all on the first page.”
He wasn’t wrong. Most people did tend to read the first page and browse the rest.
“The will,” Alice stated again, a smile playing on her face. “He told me he was leaving everything to you, Rory.”
“I can’t believe he did that,” I told her, setting the paper on the desk. I was now the owner of a paper, my lifelong dream to own my own paper so that I could print whatever I felt like. Harper had given me his baby, his child, his kidney stone, as he liked to call it sometimes.
Alice tilted her head to the side. “Are you really that surprised? After all, he loved you like his own. It only makes sense for you to step into his shoes and keep the tradition going.” She laughed. “He used to tell me at night that he was so proud of what you had become, even after you married your Mafia husband. He said you would change him like you changed everyone you touched.”
I wiped away the tears on my cheeks as they flowed out of my eyes. “I can’t. He had far too much faith in me.”
“Oh, honey,” Alice said softly, reaching across the desk to touch my hand. “It’s the truth. Harper was a better man because he had you in his corner. You kept him young, and he worried about you.”
And I had gotten him killed. Guilt ate away at my soul as I thought about how he was carrying around his own findings that day, no doubt going to show Nico to keep my husband from killing him. “I got him killed,” I cried out, unable to keep it in any longer. “It’s my fault.”
Alice squeezed my hand. “That’s ridiculous. He could have turned you down, Rory, but he chose not to. Harper knew very well what he was doing, and he did it with a fucking smile on his face.”
I met her tear-filled eyes with mine, wondering if she was telling the truth. Harper could have told me no, and while I would have pitched a fit because he had, I would have come to accept it and found another way to expose Carmine and the missing Griffin family.
But Harper had run the story. “I miss him.”
“I know,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “I miss him every day. It will get easier over time, but there’s a heck of a lot of time between his death and when I will quit crying myself to sleep.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you,” I told her as she released my hand. “I’ve been…something.” I didn’t really know what to say to her, honestly.
She waved a hand at me, sniffling. “It’s nothing, Rory. I just hoped you had thought about funeral arrangements. Harper told me nothing.”
“Me either,” I admitted, thinking about all the conversations we had about death. Harper had always assumed that the cigars would kill him off in the end, but little did he know that it would be because he had gotten wrapped up in my crazy life.
“I’m thinking something small,” Alice continued, slumping in her chair. “Because of the pandemic, they won’t let you have a large service anyway, but Harper wouldn’t want all the fuss regardless. I think his ma is buried on Staten Island. Not the fanciest place to be buried, but likely our only option unless we want him to go to the Island.”
I shivered, thinking of the mass burials that were happening there. More bodies had just been delivered to the freshly dug trenches yesterday, and right now there was a war going on about if it was legit for them to do so without family knowing. “No, I don’t want him there.”
“Then I will look into the burial plot,” Alice decided, pushing herself out of the chair. “I know this comes as a shock to you, Rory, but Harper had made his peace with himself about death a long time ago. He knew his days were numbered.”
I didn’t respond and she walked out, leaving me in the office alone. Just because he had expected it didn’t mean I had wanted it to happen.
I looked around the office that held so many memories and quietly said goodbye to my mentor and my friend. Harper was gone in body, but he would never be far from my heart. I was going to avenge his death and ensure that Harper’s work hadn’t been in vain.
When I arrived back at the penthouse, I was surprised to see Nico at the stove. “What are you doing?” I asked as I put my bag on the island, the smell of spicy tomato sauce in the air. Nico was dressed casually in a T-shirt and joggers, and my heart flipped over at how relaxed he looked, given everything that was going on.
“I’m cooking you dinner,” he replied as he tossed the pasta in the pot of boiling water. “How did it go?”
“Alice stopped by,” I said as I reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer, popping the tab. “He left me everything, Nico.”
Nico stopped and looked at me, his eyes full of tenderness. “Of course he did. He cared about you.”
“I just didn’t expect him to leave the paper to me,” I continued, clutching the can in my hand. “What am I going to do with a paper?”
He smirked. “Tell them all my dirty laundry?”
I returned his smirk with one of my own. “I can see the front page now.”
“He left you the paper,” Nico said, reaching for me. “Because he knew you would fucking rock it, Rory. You are a brilliant journalist.”
His words warmed my insides. “You really think so?”
My husband arched a brow. “Of course. You are fucking fantastic.”
I leaned into his touch, pressing my forehead against his shoulder. “I feel so bad about leaving him in that morgue for so long. We need to put him in the ground, give him a proper burial.”
“Whatever you need,” Nico murmured, his hand in my hair. “I’m right here for you, Rory.”
I broke down then, causing Nico to curse and gather me tightly against him as I wetted his shirt with my tears. I cried about the fact that I hated the way that Harper had died, that I never got to say goodbye to him. I cried that our lives hung in the balance because of one man that thought he could play God to his children.
I cried for Alice and the heavy loss that she was feeling just like I was.
Most of all, I cried that Anthony would never meet a wonderful man and partner like Harper, one that would have loved the little boy like his own, just as he had me.
Finally, when my tears were spent, Nico pulled me back and wiped them away with his thumbs. “Feel better?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, my throat raw. “I do.”
“Good,” Nico answered. “I can’t stand your tears, Rory, and plus, I think my sauce is burning.”
I let him go with a snort, and he turned around, stirring it quickly. There was something about the way he was looking so domesticated that I wanted to bottle up this moment and stay in it forever. God, I loved him.
These were the moments that I hoped we wouldn’t miss out on, the ones that kept us grounded.
When he turned back, I pressed my lips to his. “Thank you.”
He returned my kiss. “For what?”
“For just being you,” I answered, framing his face with my hands. “I don’t know if I tell you enough how much I appreciate everything you are doing to keep our family safe. You are my family, Nico, and I hope that you know how much.”
He covered his hands with mine, clearing his throat. “Stop, Rory. I’m not the fucking hero.”
“You can be,” I told him. “And in my eyes, you will be.”
When he crushed me to him, I felt the rapid beating of his heart against my chest, the tender way he held me as if I were going to disappear at any moment. This was going to work out. I was going to make sure that my family stayed together, no matter what we went through with Carmine.
Because if I lost my family, I had nothing. Nico wasn’t the only one afraid of losing it all.
