Wanted By The Soldier Bear (Heroes of Shifter Creek 1) by Clara Moore Page B

“They weren’t shooting at us.”
                  “Then who were they shooting at?”
                  “Vinnie Gorello and his goons. They were at the restaurant across the street.”
                  “Vinnie who?” she said flopping down on a chair. “You know what? I take it back to don’t care.”
                  Ignoring her, Doran took the chair opposite and said“He’sa business associate of the Rosellis.”
                  “The Rosellis? As in the mafia then?”
                  “I think we should go upstairs. I don’t want them to see us in the windows.”
                  “You are avoiding the question.”
                  “I am not avoiding the question, Isadora. I just want to get upstairs where it’s safer, and I’ll answer any question you have.” She stood her ground, keeping her mouth paper thin and her eyes narrowed. “I know you have your mean face on, but it’s really hard to take you seriously with that blanket wrapped around you.”
                  “It’s my armor.”
                  “Yeah, okay.”
                  She sighed and gestured for him to go ahead of her. He smirked, leading her upstairs to the master bedroom and the huge walk-in closet. He went to one of the walls and felt along the corner, his fingers exploring the surface.
                  “What are you doing?” she asked crossly.
                  “Shh,” he responded.
    He found a little nick in the dry wall and pressed against it. The wall slid open, revealing another room. She looked at him, astonished.
    “I’m good with my hands, as you know,” he grinned with a cocky shrug.
    She rolled her eyes and moved into the room. “How did you know about this?”
    “I saw your dad in here once. I was hoping to take some money from their secret stash.”
    “Naturally.”
    The room was small, but cozy enough – a small loveseat sat against the opposite wall along with boxes and some clothes hung up. It looked like an extension of the closet with storage built into the walls filled with boxes and cans of food. It reminded her of some kind of bomb shelter – a perfect hiding place from destruction.
    She ran her hands over the dresses hung up. “These are my mom’s. I always wondered what happened to her wedding dress.”
    “I guess he didn’t want to get rid of them, but didn’t want to tell my mom about it,” Doran shrugged.
    She smelled the dresses, “They still smell like her.”
    He watched her for a moment as she hugged the white lace dress, taking in its scent. He sighed, pulling a cord hanging from the ceiling to turn on a small light bulb and closed the wall. She didn’t notice, wrapped up in the memory of her mother’s perfume. She turned to the boxes, finding other mementos.
    “It’s the photo album my mom made before she died,” Isadora said softly, pulling out the artifact and sitting on the couch. “I thought he got rid of this.”
    Doran walked forward and sat down next to her as she opened the album. “Is that your mom?”
    She touched a photo of her and Gaea together. “Yeah. This was my kindergarten graduation. She wore her favorite floral dress.”
    “You look a lot like her.”
    “I know.” She smiled, turning each page carefully and cherishing every shot. “Sometimes, I know my dad sees her when he looks at me, and he gets sad.”
    “I think he really loved her.”
    “Yeah. Anyway,” she paused, looking up at him. “What’s really going on, Doran?”
    He sighed, “It’s kind of complicated. Do you know a lot about your mother’s family?” She shook her head. “Well, there are two powerful Italian families in the city: the Rosellis and the Libericcis. Your mother was a Libericci, and your father was a Roselli.”
    “Your mom told me about my dad. I didn’t know that about my mom – she told me they stopped