Blood Paid the Bills

Nova didn’t open the envelope until Sweetgum & Spine was locked, the blinds were drawn, and Sadie-Rae had checked the back door twice and then a third time. “I still think we should call the police.”

Nova sat behind the register with the envelope resting on the counter in front of her. “And tell them what?”

“That a man has been sitting outside the bookstore for almost two weeks, let himself in through the back, and handed you a letter from your dead father.”

Nova rubbed her thumb over the edge of the envelope. “When you say it like that, it sounds terrible.”

Sadie-Rae stared at her. “There is no version where it sounds good.”

Nova barely heard her. Her attention stayed fixed on the handwriting across the front of the envelope.

Nova Lawson.

Her father had always written her name carefully, as though even putting it on paper deserved his full attention. Six years had passed since she’d heard his laugh coming from the back room or found his coffee abandoned beside the register because some customer had asked him a question about a first edition and distracted him for half an hour. Six years, and she still knew his handwriting better than her own. Sadie-Rae’s voice softened. “You don’t have to open it tonight.”

“Yes, I do.”

Nova slid a finger beneath the seal. The paper tore with a soft rasp that sounded far too loud in the empty bookstore. Inside was one folded sheet. Sweetgum & Spine stationery. Old stationery, from before they had changed the logo. Nova unfolded it.

My Nova,

Nova’s fingers tightened around the paper as the first line blurred for a second. Sadie-Rae moved closer, but Nova lifted a hand, needing the space to take in the words alone. “Please.”

Her cousin nodded and stepped back while Nova forced her eyes back to the page and continued reading.

If you are reading this, then something I prayed would stay buried has finally found its way to you. I am sorry.

Nova’s fingers tightened around the page.

You grew up believing this bookstore survived because I worked hard enough to save it. I let you believe that because the truth was uglier.

Nova let her gaze drift around the store, over the crooked shelves, the old brass register, and the worn floors her grandmother had always insisted had character whenever anyone suggested refinishing them. All those familiar pieces of Sweetgum & Spine suddenly looked different now that she knew how close her father had come to losing them. Her fingers tightened around the letter before she lowered her eyes to the page again.

There was a year when we were drowning. Taxes, repairs, loans, bills I could not keep ahead of. I was too proud to tell you how bad things were. A friend knew men who needed someone good with numbers. They had cash that needed counting and books that needed balancing. I told myself I would do it once. Maybe twice.

Nova closed her eyes for a moment, because of course he had done something like this. Her father had always been the kind of man who would set himself on fire before he let his family feel the cold, and apparently saving Sweetgum & Spine had pushed that instinct farther than she had ever known.

The first night paid more than a month at the store. The second covered the roof. By the third, I understood why they paid so well.

Nova’s stomach tightened.

That money belonged to men who did not hear the word no often. By then, they knew my name. They knew where I worked. They knew I had a daughter. Walking away was no longer as simple as handing back an envelope of cash.

Sadie-Rae whispered, “Nova?”

Nova shook her head without looking up.

That was when I met Damian Drăghici.

Her fingers tightened around the letter, and she had to read the name a second time before the words settled into place.

He was young. Too young for the things men around him expected him to become. His family name opened doors and closed mouths, but he still had something in him then that the others didn’t. A conscience, maybe, or maybe he simply had not learned to kill it yet.

Nova pictured him standing in the hallway again, immaculate in that expensive dark coat, so unnervingly still that he seemed to take up more space than he should have. What stayed with her most was the way he had looked at her, as though he had already accounted for every detail and nothing about her had come as a surprise.

He frightened people even then, but he was not cruel for the pleasure of being cruel. That mattered to me. I watched the world around him start changing him, and I watched him fight against it longer than most men would have.

Nova pressed her lips together and lowered the letter for a moment, blinking hard before forcing herself to keep reading.

I trusted him before I trusted anyone else in that world.

She lowered the page for a moment. “That makes absolutely no sense,” she murmured.

Sadie-Rae moved closer. “What?”

“My father trusted him.”

“The creepy billionaire in the alley?”

“Hallway.”

“That distinction is not helping him.”

Despite herself, Nova almost smiled. It disappeared when she went back to the letter.

The work changed. Counting became bookkeeping. Bookkeeping became knowing which numbers did not belong where. I started seeing names, payments, shipments, men being bought and men being buried. I told myself that if I was already trapped inside it, I could at least remember what I saw.

Nova read the next sentence slower.

Then I started keeping records.

Cold crept through her.

If anyone is watching you now, they believe I left something behind. They are probably right.

Nova shifted upright as the meaning settled in. Her father had never mentioned records, hidden files, or anything that might explain what he had been collecting. As far as she knew, he had left her Sweetgum & Spine, a mountain of paperwork, and enough grief to make the first year without him feel almost impossible to survive.

Do not trust anyone who comes asking questions about me. Do not assume a badge means safety. Do not let anyone convince you that I owed them loyalty. I owed them nothing.

Then came the line Nova had been waiting for.

Trust Damian.

Nova folded the letter more sharply than she meant to, the crease biting across the page as she read the line again.

I know how that sounds. By the time you meet him, he may not be the young man I knew. But if he gives you his word, he will keep it. He notices everything, and that can make him unsettling. It is also one of the reasons he is still alive.

Nova let out a short breath, unsettling was generous.

If danger reaches you after I am gone, he is the one person I trust to stand between you and it.

The letter ended the way every birthday card had.

Always proud of you. Always yours, Dad.

Nova lowered the page. For a while, the only sound in the store was the old radiator knocking behind the history section. Sadie-Rae finally broke the silence. “So?”

Nova folded the letter carefully. “My father counted money for criminals.”

Sadie-Rae went completely still. “My uncle did what?”

Nova looked up from the letter. “He counted money for them. At first, anyway. He thought it would only be once or twice, just enough to keep the store from going under.”

Sadie-Rae shook her head slowly, like she could reject the truth if she refused to let it settle. “Uncle Robert? The same man who used to lecture me for taking ten dollars out of the register before writing it down?”

A humorless laugh slipped from Nova before she could stop it. “Apparently that man.”

Sadie-Rae stared toward the shelves, her face changing as old memories rearranged themselves into something neither of them had known to question. “All those years he kept telling us everything was fine…”

Nova lowered the letter. “It wasn’t.”

Sadie-Rae looked back at her, hurt beginning to push through the shock. “And he never told us.”

“No.”

For the first time that night, the secret felt bigger than Damian, bigger than the men outside, bigger even than the letter in Nova’s hands. It had reached backward into their family and changed the shape of a man they had both believed they knew. “He thought he was doing one or two jobs to save the store.”

“Okay.”

“Then he got trapped.”

Sadie-Rae’s face softened. Nova looked around Sweetgum & Spine again. Suddenly every repair her father had somehow paid for felt different. Every bill that had mysteriously stopped being urgent. Every month when he’d smiled and told her not to worry. The bookstore had survived because he had stepped into something ugly and convinced himself he could step back out.

A hard knock struck the front door, cutting through the quiet so sharply that both women turned toward it at once. Before either of them could speak, another followed, louder this time, carrying none of the hesitation of someone wondering whether the store was still open. Sadie-Rae caught Nova by the arm as a shadow shifted behind the closed blinds. “Store’s closed,” she called.

Nova turned toward her. “Don’t answer them.”

The warning came too late. The doorknob rattled beneath someone’s hand, stopped for a moment, then moved again with enough force to shake the lock. “Ms. Lawson?” a man called through the glass.

Nova and Sadie-Rae exchanged a look but said nothing.

“We need to speak with you about your father.”

Nova’s fingers curled around the edge of the counter. Her father had been dead for six years, and in all that time no stranger had ever shown up after closing asking questions about him. Her phone buzzed beside the letter. She glanced down at the unfamiliar number and opened the message.

Do not open the door.

Nova read it once before another appeared beneath it.

Take your cousin to the office. Lock the door and stay away from the windows.

Sadie-Rae leaned close enough to read over her shoulder. “Oh, hell no.”

Another blow struck the front door, harder than the others, followed by the unmistakable scrape of metal against the lock. Nova tightened her grip on the phone as a third message appeared.

Now, Nova.

She didn’t need a name attached to the number. She could almost hear Damian saying it in that controlled voice of his, as though obedience were already a foregone conclusion. That thought irritated her almost as much as the fact that, for once, he was right. “Office,” she said, catching Sadie-Rae’s hand.

They hurried through the darkened bookstore while another impact shook the front door behind them. The familiar aisles seemed to close in around Nova as they passed, every shadow between the shelves suddenly deep enough to hide someone. They had barely reached the back office when glass shattered at the front of the store. Nova pushed Sadie-Rae inside and locked the door behind them. Her cousin backed away from it with one hand pressed over her mouth while Nova stood listening to the faint crunch of glass beneath someone’s shoes out in the store. Her phone rang. The same unknown number filled the screen. She answered immediately. “Damian?”

“Good. You listened.” His voice was low and steady, so calm that it only made the sounds coming from the other side of the office door more frightening. Nova pressed the phone against her ear. “Who the hell is in my bookstore?”

“I’ll explain when you’re safe.”

“No. You’re going to explain now, because somebody just broke through my front door after asking about my father who has been dead for six years.”

For a moment, Damian said nothing. When his voice came back through the phone, the calm was still there, but whatever warmth had been underneath it was gone. “They’re the men who killed your father.”

Nova’s hand slowly lowered from the door. Somewhere beyond it, something heavy crashed to the floor, followed by footsteps moving deeper into Sweetgum & Spine. Closer to them. “And now,” Damian said, “they’ve made the mistake of coming for you.”