Closer to the Edge

Paul was nervous; a feeling that had since become foreign to him in the week that he had been at Rowan’s house. Part of him didn’t know what was taking so long; the other part of him knew that planning a large-scale mob takedown wasn’t going to be planned overnight. While he was prepared for the process, he was unaware of how long it would actually take.

”Okay, Paul, this is what you need to do,” Nicolo said, tapping the tip of his pen against the desk. “You need to get into your father’s office and copy the files on his laptop to a ghost drive. We need that information.”

Paul sighed, running his hands over his face. “How am I supposed to do that? Everything is encrypted and password protected.”

Nicolo looked over his shoulder and met the dark eyes of his daughter.

“That’s where I come in,” Rowan said. “I’m pretty handy with computers.”

Paul’s eyebrows rose instinctively. “Why am I not surprised?” he murmured.

Rowan smiled. “Once we get the files on a ghost drive, we gotta come back here. Once we know what he’s planning, it’ll be easier to stop it.”

“Or get involved and completely ruin it,” Martin offered with a shrug. “I’m always game to see something blow up in your father’s face.”

Paul smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re not the only one.”

“Think you can do it?” Nicolo asked.

Paul nodded. “I know I can.”

Running his hands through his hair, he slowly opened the door to his father’s office. It was near four in the morning, a fairly lucrative time that he naturally assumed his father would not be awake during, and Rowan sneaked in behind him. As quietly as he could, he shut the door and walked across the room. He sat down in the leather chair and grabbed the mouse, causing the computer to start up.

Rowan rested a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “You good?” she asked.

Paul nodded before standing up and letting Rowan sit down. “Do your thing,” he told her.

“Watch the door,” Rowan said before pulling the flash drive out of her pocket and plugging it into the USB port. She glanced at the screen, tapping the keys quickly, and a small smirk appeared upon her lips.

“What?” Paul asked.

“It’s completely Linksys based. What an amateur,” she said, still smiling.

“Is that good or bad?”

Rowan looked up at him. “It’s my specialty.”

“Awesome,” Paul muttered, glancing back at the door. “How much time do you need?”

“Ninety seconds.”

“Make it sixty,” he told her, pressing his ear against the door. He was almost positive he heard footsteps, but he wouldn’t swear on it

“Forty-five and counting,” she said, still tapping furiously on the computer keys.

Paul’s heart was racing and he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t have been able to hear anything over it.

“Done,” Rowan whispered, unhooking the flash drive and shoving it back into her pocket.

“Thank God, my heart is racing,” Paul muttered.

Rowan smiled. “Adrenaline’s an amazing thing, yeah?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Not in my father’s house,” he mumbled.

Rowan rolled her eyes and leaned up to press her lips against his.

Paul grabbed her shoulder rand held her at arm’s length. “Are you crazy, woman?!” he whisper-yelled.

“Let’s go,” she told him, her voice quiet.

Paul opened the door slowly and peered out; upon seeing it empty, he reached for Rowan’s hand and pulled him down the hall.

“This isn’t—“

“Ssh!” Paul snapped, causing her mouth to shut, and he pulled her into the last bedroom on the right—his room.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to pack a bag if I’m going to be at your house for a while,” he told her. “We can climb out of the window when we leave.”

Rowan walked over to the window and opened the latches, leaning out. “Seems doable,” she commented before turning her back and leaning against the frame of the window.

Paul smiled and pulled a duffel bag out from under his bed before he started tossing clothes in it. He didn’t pay attention to what he was packing; he just focused on throwing as much in there as he could.

“Paul, I—“ Rowan froze.

Paul stood up straight, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling.

“Paul—“

“Out the window,” Paul told her, “now.”

For once, Rowan didn’t argue. It might’ve been that she could sense the urgency in his tone or see the fear in his eyes; whichever it was, she tossed a leg over the ledge and climbed out onto the lattice that framed the side of the house.

Paul shoved the bag under his bed and turned to face the door the minute it slammed open. He gulped, his mouth going dry. “Hello, father.”

+

Rowan let out a soft “oof” as her feet landed on the grass beneath her, and she looked back up at the window. She hadn’t been nervous before. She hadn’t thought about how Paul’s father could’ve walked in at any minute, or how any of his henchmen could’ve seen them and killed them in a heartbeat. Those thoughts hadn’t even crossed her mind. Even in a dangerous situation, Paul had a way of calming her nerves.

But no, not then, not when he wasn’t around.

That was when the nerves took over. When he wasn’t in sight and she was fifteen feet below him, waiting. She hated waiting. In fact, she was never all that patient to begin with. Which is why waiting to see him lean out of the window was excruciating. She didn’t even know how much time had passed—thirty seconds, five minutes, fifteen minutes; she just wasn’t sure.

But she did know that she probably jumped three feet in the air when she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder.

“Jesus—“

“Calm down, it’s okay,” Paul said, pulling her against his chest. “You good?”

“No!” Rowan exclaimed quietly, hitting his chest. “You scared me!”

Paul pulled away. “Sorry.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “What the fuck happened to your face?” she asked.

Paul rolled his eyes. “We gotta go.”

“Paul—“

“Now!” he told her, grabbing her hand and pulling her along the side of the house.

Rowan frowned and jerked her hand out of his. “No, tell me what happened, Paul. Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” Paul said, reaching for her hand again. “Please, let’s just get to the car, okay?”

Rowan bit her lip.

“Rowan, please, we have to get away from here,” Paul told her.

“Let’s go,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

Paul held out his hand. Rowan didn’t even blink before taking it.

+

”Hello, father.”

“Paul,” Anthony greeted, his mouth set in a fine line.

Paul’s heart was pounding. He didn’t think to make sure he was packin before he and Rowan decided to go on their little…adventure. And, if he were being honest, his father terrified him. Paul had a reason to be terrified more this time, though, considering his last encounter with his father did not end well. In fact, it ended with Paul shooting him in the shoulder. So, terrified, nervous, anxious—all things he was feeling right then. “How—How—How have you been?”

Anthony smiled softly, glancing down at his shoulder. He had abandoned the sling about two days earlier but it was still sore. “Wonderful. And you?”

“Wonderful,” Paul repeated.

“Who are you staying with these days? The Delvecchio’s?”

Paul frowned. “Martin.”

“Of course.”

“Yup,” Paul muttered, nodding slowly.

“So you two can betray me together again?” Anthony asked.

Paul bit his lip. “That’s not exactly on our itinerary for the week.”

“Keep it that way.”

“We will.”

“So whatever happened to that little bitch? Was she good?”

“Excuse you?”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed. “She must’ve been good in bed for you to betray your family.”

“What?! Fuck you!” Paul yelled before he could stop himself. He almost lunged—almost—but he stopped himself. He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m leaving.”

“Like hell,” Anthony said, stepping in front of the door.

It might’ve been becoming a habit, but Paul didn’t think twice before he brought his fist back, before he punched his father in his face.

+

“What the fuck happened to you?” Martin asked as Rowan and Paul climbed into the back of the car.

“Don’t ask. Just drive,” Paul instructed.

Martin did so without an argument (which was rare for him).

Ash turned around in the front seat, her brown eyes wide. “What happened to your face?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?” Paul wondered aloud. “Does it look that bad?” he asked, turning to face Rowan.

Rowan bit her lip. “You look like you got into a fight with Ajax.”

Paul paused. “Thanks.”

“Who’s Ajax?” Martin asked, confused.

“He’s from The Iliad, he was a famous Greek warrior, second only to Achilles,” Rowan explained.

“Loosely translated—I look like shit,” Paul muttered.

“I was trying to say it nicer,” Rowan told him.

“Wait, didn’t Achilles die because someone hit his heel?” Ash asked.

“Pretty much. But Ajax killed himself like a pussy,” Rowan said.

“But—“

“Can we talk about Greek literature later, please?” Martin asked.

“He’s just sensitive because he’s not exactly…smart,” Ash said, a small smile on her face.

Rowan smiled.

“I am smart,” Martin protested, pulling onto the main road and making his way to Rowan’s house.

Paul watched and listened as Martin and Ash argued in the front seat. After a minute, he turned to face Rowan, whose eyes had been on his face. He smiled softly, causing her to do the same, and he leaned over, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Where’s your bag of clothes?” Rowan asked.

Paul sighed. “They were left behind.”

“What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Paul told her.

Rowan sighed in exasperation. “Paul—“

“Please?” he asked his voice soft.

Rowan nodded. “Alright. Whatever.”