Chapter 2 - Blake Pierce

Blake POV

“Seriously, Blake, you’re freaking me out,” Emma says as she looks at the wall in my bedroom. You know those walls in horror films where the police are trying to find the killer? The red lines connecting the newspaper articles, and the photos, all the evidence into a gigantic mural… well… That’s how my bedroom wall looks like right now. I look at Emma, offering her an encouraging smile before I refocus on the wall.

I am a journalist who specializes in taking down criminals. I have successfully handed over three men to the police who have ties to the Italian mob. I single-handedly do a better job than the police, but I don’t have rules I need to follow. I am not afraid to bend the law to get the information. I just want to give people a great report on my job.

I have been trying to take down the man who killed my mother, but everything I try to find out about him leads me to a dead end. It’s all very frustrating. I am good at my job; I am starting to suspect he is figuring out someone is onto him. He is anything but reckless, and all the leads I find have been left recklessly. As if planted, especially for me, to frustrate me.

All the criminals I have taken down are connected to the Italian mob, or the Russian, or even the Irish. They are all connected somehow. They all have ties of some sort. Even though I never succeeded in taking down a big guy, I always take down people who work closely with them. My new target is the man that destroyed my childhood.

“I know,” I say as I take a deep breath. As I stare at the red lines on the wall with several newspaper articles and photos of men, I am still missing three photos on the wall and their connection with the rest of the crimes.

“This is getting really dangerous, and I am scared you won’t know when to get out,” Emma says, and I nod. She knows me better than anyone. We are up together in foster care. We’re like sisters. We went through the system together and we know what danger means. But the difference between her and I, is that she runs away from danger and I seem to get dragged into it.

I love the adrenaline of being involved in something dangerous that can get me hurt or killed. I know what you’re thinking. I have a death wish, some might say I do, but I just like to live my life on the edge.

“I am moving to New York,” I say and Emma almost chokes on her coke. She coughs as her face goes bright red and I immediately start tapping on her back to try to relieve her. Her eyes dart to mine as she recovers, her breath shaking her head.

“No, you can’t, you’ll end up getting killed,” she says and I shake my head.

“You’re exaggerating,” I say, but deep down I know she is kind of right. I am playing with fire here. I am trying to find out the real identity of The Reaper. The man who killed my mother and her boyfriend, my pregnant mother, may I add.

“I am not. He is dangerous, and the fact that no one knows who he is and he never got caught by the police says something,” Emma says and I take a deep down.

“Okay, look, I am not going to convince you that I won’t get hurt, and you won’t be able to convince me that I will end up dead under a bridge beheaded,” I say and Emma widens her eyes in horror.

“I never said beheaded. Geez, I really don’t know how you can deal with all of this violence and not have your stomach turn. You’re some kind of superhero,” she says and I can’t help but giggle. Emma is a lawyer but not a criminal lawyer. She works for a firm that provides accounting services. I honestly never really understood what she does, but she never understood what I do, so it’s a thing with us.

“Okay, let’s go out and celebrate my decision,” I say and she snorts, shaking her head.

“There’s not really a lot to celebrate, you’ll be leaving me here while you’re moving to New York, I will be constantly worried about you, and I know I will end up flying to New York more often than I care to admit,” She says and I can’t help but throw one arm over her shoulder smiling guiding her out of my room.

“I am not going to miss that,” she says as she looks over her shoulder at the wall, and her entire body trembles. “I really hate that,” she whispers before I open our apartment door, guiding her out as she leans in, grabbing her purse from the table near the door.

“Oh, and you’re paying,” she says as she presses the button for the elevator. Shock. Even though she makes double the money, I make, she is a tight bitch. I always end up paying for our outings, and spending more than I should.

Emma’s boyfriend Tom ends up joining us. I never really liked him, and he never really liked me anyway, so she always tried to keep us apart, but today there was no other way. He had to join us while he brought another guy with him. It’s like Emma is trying to set me up so I won’t go. No, that can’t be it. She only just found out I am going to New York. I frown as I look at her while she laughs at some stupid joke Tom says.

“So, Blake, are you a lawyer like Emma?” the other guy asks. I look at him, shaking my head as I shove a fork full of pasta into my mouth. I am trying to remember his name, but I can’t. I know it starts with an R? Maybe?

“Nope,” I finally let out, popping the p. He nods as she holds his wineglass in his hand and then focuses on me again.

“So what do you do?” He asks and Tom snorts, shaking his head. I dart my eyes at him while Emma places her hand on top of his on the table, shaking her head.

“Anything to add Tom?” I ask, annoyance flying with my tone of voice while he smiles at me, the fakest smile I have ever seen.

“Blake thinks she is some sort of vigilante,” he says while the guy looks at me raising one eyebrow questioningly.

“That’s not what she thinks. Can you please?” Emma starts, but I interrupt her.

“Maybe if you read anything I have ever written you would know I am not some sort of vigilante, I am just a woman that knows where to look and do the job the police can’t fucking do,” I let out and Tom shakes his head as Emma slams a hand on her forehead because she knows where this is going.

“Job? Do you even know what that is? You’re a freelancer living out of the money your mommy left you when she died,” he says and Emma shakes her head, raising one hand and shoving it to his face, so he stops talking.

I push my chair back and stand up. The other guy, whatever his name is, stands up with me trying to be a gentleman or some shit while I throw my napkin on the table and point my finger at his face accusingly. “You’re a dick,” I say, walking away while I hear Emma’s chair moving as she calls for me.

“Blake, wait up,” she says as I walk out of the restaurant, holding my jacket in my hand. The cold air hit me straight in the face, making me struggle to take a breath. It was really warm inside the restaurant and it was freezing outside. It’s early January, and the cold is only getting worse from now on.

“I’ve got to go,” I say, not looking at my best friend while I shove my arms through my jacket. I know that she feels guilty about the way he spoke to me, and I know they will get into a massive argument and I hate she has to argue with him because of me. Just because I don’t sit in an office like them for eight hours five days a week, doesn’t mean I don’t work.

“Blake, come on,” she says, gripping my wrist and when I look at her, she’s blinking several times as the cold is bothering her. She is not wearing her jacket and my face softens, as does my heart, as I look at her. She is the most amazing human being I have ever met, and I hate that I don’t get on with her boyfriend, but he is an idiot.

“I am okay. I just need to go home and start packing. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I say and she nods slightly before she pulls me into a tight embrace and walks back inside. To my surprise, whatever his name is, he walks out shaking his head and rubbing his hands.

“I am sorry about that. I didn’t mean to cause any problems,” he says, and I nod slightly.

“It’s okay,” I let out, and he smiles as he looks both ways on the street.

“Wanna go grab a coffee? My treat, to make up for the shit that happened in there,” he says and I take a deep breath as I pull my sleeves down covering my bare hands.

“Sure, why not,” I say and he smiles as we walk down the street to the most beautiful coffee shop. The twinkle lights shine as if they forgot it’s not Christmas anymore.