Sunset Flare Read online

Izzy sent her friend raised eyebrows. “What do you think?”

  “Sorry.” Abby sipped her tea, looking around the room. “It still feels like Gran’s going to walk through the door, or holler at me from down the hallway.” She chuckled. “And tell me to stop hiding candy in the house.” She sighed. “I don’t know if the sadness will ever really go away. I think about her at least once a day. Usually every single time something happens and I want to share with her. For a long time it was only you and her.”

  “Now you have Riley.”

  Abby gave her a sad smile. “It wasn’t easy for us. You know that.”

  “It wasn’t mafia life and death or a man who doesn’t want to stand up and fight for you. Riley fought for you. Gunner just bowed down and let me walk away.”

  “I don’t think it’s that black and white.”

  “And why not?” Izzy shouted, then shook her head. “But why do I care? I’ve never cared. I’ve watched men walk away from me, let me go. Hell, one turned the other way and pretended I wasn’t his daughter. Why do I care now?” Tears welled in her eyes and she swiped the evidence away before they could fall. “I knew better. Because why would a man want me when my own father doesn’t?”

  “Izzy...” Abby put her mug down and crawled across the couch to wrap her arms around her. “Carl always wanted you, silly girl.” She wiped Izzy’s tears away. “Why do think he drove us to our dance classes? Or drove us to Oakston for concerts when we couldn’t drive and then waited hours for us? He came to every single one of our events at school and I know this for a fact, because my dad wasn’t there. My dad was at the local bar drunk and I didn’t know if he would even make it home or not. But guess what? I forgave him because he did the best he could and my dad’s best was pathetic compared to Carl’s. Carl cared and I know you know that so don’t blame him because Gunner ended it. From what you’ve told me, you knew that was the plan all along.”

  “Plans change.”

  “Because people do something about it. Do something about Gunner. Fight for him if he won’t fight for himself. I say call your dad and demand he protect Gunner. Carl would do anything for you. Anything.” Abby picked up Izzy’s phone from the table. “Call him and explain it.”

  “He’s in the middle of nowhere with Corbin.”

  Abby held up her hand. “You stop making excuses. Don’t you dare give up. Izzy Caliendo does not give up. Call him.”

  Izzy took her cell phone. What harm would come over calling her dad? She tried not to get her hopes up as she dialed, but maybe Carl would be able to help. They were related to Anton after all and if she’d learned anything about the Caliendos, it was that their blood was thick.

  When the call went to voicemail, she felt a piece of her hope slip away.

  IZZY INTENTLY GAZED at the closed door, unable to sleep another night above only wood and drywall dividing her from the horror of the torture room. She stared so hard at the door that her vision blurred and she wondered how she’d never heard a suspicious sound echoing through the floors to her ears. No screams, voices, or shouting...nothing.

  Her hand reached for the door knob just as another hand wrapped around hers and she screamed, thinking she’d been alone. Her head whipped up to find Gunner staring intently at her. Where had he come from? She’d purposely waited until the men had all retired from the library to sneak down. Marc might think he had the only key, but, after a quick search in her mom’s suite, she’d found a perfect fit.

  She’d missed Gunner’s warm touch. Days had gone by without a word from her father and she’d been no further ahead with a plan for Gunner than that night at Abby’s house.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, firmly taking her hand away from him.

  “I thought maybe you would tell me.”

  “I’m fighting for you,” she said. “Maybe you’re too scared, but I’m not giving up. There has to be something down here to protect you.”

  “In there?” He nodded at the torture room and her eyes momentarily fell on the door again.

  “No,” she snapped at him. “You know what? Just go away. I don’t need your help. I’ve been managing on my own without you for years, so shoo. Go back into hiding until I dig you out.”

  She turned away from him only to have her eyes land back on the torture room door. The room called to her. Okay, that sounded ridiculous. But something about it from the moment she’d seen it felt odd, yet familiar. She couldn’t explain the feelings associated with them, good or bad, but she felt pulled to examine the room more thoroughly.

  “Maybe nothing happened,” Gunner said, still in the basement, still behind her, still planning on walking away. She felt as irritated with him now as she had when she’d first met him.

  “Maybe everything happened.” Without waiting any longer, she twisted the knob and pushed open the door. As she walked inside, she felt the temperature drop. It was like stepping inside an igloo.

  Switching on the light brought an even colder reality of what had taken place here. The chains hanging above the metal chair didn’t lie. Those chains made her boil with anger. Walking to the chair, she climbed onto the flat arms, half expecting Gunner to stop her, and reached for the ceiling.

  She unhooked the chains from the industrial “S” hook, letting them clatter in a pile on the floor. Her eyes recognized these metal links were only one of the many things wrong in this room. The table of tools, the stains on the floors, the walls around them all pointed to a sick, twisted moment in time. She turned around, still standing on the chair’s arm and found Gunner watching her.

  “It’s not enough,” she said.

  He solemnly nodded. “What do you want to do? Need to do. Talk to me.”

  Squinting her eyes, she gave the room another once over. “It all has to go. I lay in my bed above this room, all night, picturing this room and wondering what happened here. I never heard anything.”

  “It’s likely soundproof.” Gunner walked to the wall and knocked on it. “My guess is there are layers of foam beneath the walls, or mounting boards. Possibly installation, too.”

  Izzy drew her eyebrows together.

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his fatigued eyes. He looked worn out, but, then, he’d been working all day.

  “Do you have tools?” he asked.

  “No. But I know where to get tools.”

  He held his hand out to assist her down. “Lead the way.”

  AFTER RAIDING THE MAINTENANCE closet, Izzy stood back in the room she intended to remodel. Clutching the hammer in her hands, she lightly tapped the head of the hammer off her palm, debating where to start. The walls needed to come down and the chair needed to be demolished. She briefly wondered if her family would disapprove of her renovations. She planned to leave nothing more than wood beams and bare floors.

  Uniting the hammer’s claw with the metal sheet, she dug out the first nail. It dropped to the floor with a satisfying clink and she moved on to the next. Pulling one out after the next, each victoriously dropping to the ground as her speed picked up. Gunner helped by removing each four-by-eight sheet, after assisting with the nails.

  She ran her fingers along the grey 3D squares they found behind the walls. “What are these?”

  Gunner came up beside her, his warm woodsy scent comforting her. He wedged a crowbar behind one. “Soundproof panels.” He popped one off, letting it fall to her feet.

  She lightly kicked the offending piece. “Let’s worry about those last.” She moved to the next wall. Soon her anger lessened, and an accomplished half-smile found her lips. She was glad to share these moments with Gunner. They worked without needing to talk or make jokes. A comfort she’d never had with a guy before.

  As the last piece fell to the ground, they left their tools on the floor and stepped back to examine their masterpiece.

  “I’m impressed,” Izzy said.

  “Are we going to tackle those soundproof panels tonight?”

  She smirked at him. “Needing to blow of some
steam?” She could think of another way to release some of his pressure.

  He shrugged. “I’m not used to manual labor now, compared to sitting at that desk all day.” He rolled his shoulders.

  “Soundproof panels next,” she said. First, she wanted to bask in the glory of her accomplishment. She felt a sort of peace, or supportive representation, for all those who’d suffered here at the hands of Robert.

  Stepping into the middle of the room, a weight lifted from her shoulders. There were no rules or guidebooks about the proper procedure when learning the man who’d raised you as his daughter was connected to the mafia and tortured people below where you sleep. Never having been able to see light in the malevolence of Robert’s actions before, she found herself pondering the possibility of her family’s plan to make right all Robert’s wrongdoings to heal her family as much as to alleviate the pain from the ones Robert hurt.

  Izzy had never been a crier, hadn’t understood why crying over things you were powerless to change made any difference. But now, like accepting Gunner’s goodbye, she realized maybe she’d never experienced real loss or true fairness.

  The feeling stopped short when a memory broke free inside her. Her eyes pinched shut and she pressed her fingers to her forehead. Flashes of lightening flickered images—memories—slammed forcefully into her head, scattering around like a twister. Nothing fell into place, no straight lines, but she knew they were from her forgotten years, her missing memories, the truth everyone told her were hallucinations. Nothing made sense, but she knew one thing for sure, she’d been in this room before today, before the last time...when she’d been missing.

  And as if too overwhelming to bear, the images stopped. Her mind crumbled into silence, and she felt her body begin to collapse to the floor.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  GUNNER DROPPED TO his knees beside Izzy. The splintered, old wood scraped the material of his pants, but the pain couldn’t compare to his body’s reaction of watching the woman he loved fall to the ground. The last few days had been torture—a bad choice of words considering where they were—and he’d filled every single day with more dirt and scandal from the files. A disgusting way of life he wanted absolutely nothing to do with but found himself connected to without any real way out.

  How many times in the future would Anton require his help with the threat of his life hanging in the balance? Gunner was exhausted from debating his future. He wanted out now. Anton promised him an out and he sure as hell wouldn’t tell him how to live it. Right now, and for the rest of his life, he knew he wanted to spend every living moment with Izzy.

  Now, lifting her lifeless upper body into his arms, he gripped her face, turning her to look at him. Her head was limp, eyes closed, body cold.

  “Izzy? Izzy!”

  She didn’t move. Fear gripped him as he pressed his finger to her throat for a pulse and sighed with relief when it beat against his finger.

  Picking her up, he carried her out of the room and back into the main library. He needed his cell phone and—

  “What happened?” Anton stood at the base of the stairs, startling Gunner. What the hell was he doing down here at this hour? Had he followed him? Didn’t he trust him?

  “She passed out,” Gunner grumbled, deciding now wasn’t the time to worry about Anton’s intentions.

  “Lay her down.” Anton fetched a pillow and Gunner laid her down on the sofa. “Why did she pass out? What happened?”

  Gunner touched the back of his hand against her clammy forehead before sweeping his hand down her cheek. “Izzy? Can you hear me?”

  “Should I go alert Marc?” Anton stood, hovering over Gunner. “Or an ambulance?”

  Gunner had no idea, especially with the idle conflict between Marc and Izzy. He couldn’t explain to the old man, but he knew the room was responsible for her passing out. He’d watched a whirlwind of emotions cross her face in a matter of seconds before her legs had buckled.

  “Izzy?” He gave her a shake and watched her eyelids flutter ever so slightly before shooting open and glancing in all directions Finally, they landed on him.

  When she spoke, her words rushed together in an almost unrecognizable slur. “I remember the room, this room, the torture room. None of it was only in my head like they said. I saw it. I saw it all, but I can’t really remember everything. It’s blurry, fuzzy, and hard to focus. Nothing is coming in order, just random images, feelings, and thoughts. But he was there. Corbin was there and the men in the bush, they were real. It’s coming back.” The words hysterically flew out of her mouth.

  She sat up, halting at the sight of Anton.

  “Are you alright, darlin?”

  Izzy eyed him, but remained silent.

  “Do you want us to call Marc? Or your parents? Where are they again, sweetheart?”

  Izzy licked her lips and shook her head. “No thank you. I’m just overtired and a little dizzy,” she said. “I just need to use the bathroom.” She excused herself to use the washroom leaving Gunner alone with Anton.

  He couldn’t live like this. He couldn’t imagine a day passing and not being there to help Izzy through the messed up trauma of her life. He wanted a real date with flowers and supper. Maybe they would even take it slow, start over, fall in love or simply give themselves the chance to fall in love. But none of that would happen if he didn’t stop hiding behind his past, afraid of his future. It was clear to him now that Izzy was his future.

  “This has to end,” Anton said.

  He turned to meet the old man straight on. “You’re right, this does need to end.” As much as he wanted his freedom, he hated that his next words would squash the content look on Anton’s face.

  “You promised me an out when this was over. I’ve helped you as agreed, and you gave me your word that you’d take the target off me, smooth it over with Tito’s sons so I’d be free to walk.”

  His short-lived relief faltered.

  “Do you stand behind that promise?” Gunner needed to know. No more tip-toeing games around Anton.

  “I do.”

  Relief sunk through to his soul. The prospect of not running and settling down instead in the outskirts of Willow Valley were started to come into focus.

  “Then listen to me when I say when this is all over, I will have Izzy in my life. Whether I stick around or she visits me, I’m not walking away from her.”

  A snide smile lifted Anton’s lips. “Don’t be foolish. She’s just like Mercedes.”

  “She’s nothing like Mercedes.”

  “She’ll destroy you for her own selfish wants.”

  “I’ve made my decision. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, no one will be hurt, understood?”

  “Do you understand what you’re saying, boy?”

  “Yes.”

  The bathroom door opened and Izzy said, “I’m going to retire to my suite.”

  “I’ll walk you.” Gunner left her no room for debate.

  He caught Anton’s warning eyes as they moved past him. He’d kept up his end of the bargain, now he had to ensure Anton kept his. But first, he would tell Izzy he was ready to fight.

  IZZY TWISTED OFF THE vodka lid and threw back a shot’s worth. Then another. The warm liquid burned a sense of calm into her a long overdue sense of peace. She’d been wound tightly for days. Adding on the familiarity of the room, memories, and recollections only added to her stress. The reality of being down there and knowing the truth hit her in her very core. No matter what anyone said, she’d been in the torture room as a child. She’d bet her entire trust fund on it.

  But why?

  A feeling itched inside, struggling to break her free of the rest of her memories, but she couldn’t find them, couldn’t tear down the wall built around them.

  Did Robert have her down there? Or had she followed Corbin? Why?

  She could scream and was pretty sure a sound of anger tore from her chest.

  “Izzy, talk to me.”

  She froze at the sound
of Gunner’s voice behind her, forgetting he’d followed her. She’d never get used to having someone who cared enough to follow her, or who was stupid enough to do so. Her family knew better. When her mood flew off the charts, they all ran in the other direction. Not Gunner. Not now anyway. However, he would soon walk away from her, forever.

  His hand stretched around to her front, sliding the bottle across the counter, away from her reach.

  She turned to face him, wedged between the counter and his body, a better distraction than any bottle. Her hands desperately gripped the sides of his face, lifting her mouth against his. Forcefully, she pressed past his lips and swept his tongue, his teeth, everywhere, hungrily wanting him, needing him to help her forget. She couldn’t deal with being in that room as a child and not knowing what had happened.

  Gunner pulled away, halting the release she’d been looking forward to. Slowly, gently, showing her he cared, he covered her hands with his warm and tender touch, sliding them away from his face to kiss the inside of her palms. She hated when he did that.

  “Talk to me.”

  “Kiss me,” she hissed back. “Take me to the bed, the couch, here on the counter...I don’t care, just take me.”

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

  No, not that.

  “You’re upset.” His eyes burrowed into her soul, searching for answers no preparation could train her for.

  “I’m horny.”

  “You’re deflecting.”

  “Who are you to point it out? Just kiss me. Make love to me. Make me forget.” She thrust her hips against his and once again lifted her mouth to cover his. This time she snaked her arms tightly around his neck with the hopes that he wouldn’t resist. That’s all she’d been to him anyway, a good lay.

  But he had better control than her. Catching her wrists behind his neck, he breathed her name across her lips.

  Izzy shoved his chest. She knew her little push did nothing, but he backed away regardless, giving her space to grab the bottle of alcohol and walk into the living room.