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“What the hell do you know about what I’m going through?” she asked. “You’re always on the other side of the gun.”
I smiled a little. “Not always,” I said. “But most of the time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”
“I told you already. I don’t want you to die.”
She looked away. “I don’t know why. You’re probably the only one.”
“Stop,” I said. “Your boss cares about you.”
“True,” she said.
“And I bet you have friends.”
Short pause. “Somewhat true.”
“At any rate, people would care.” I leaned closer to her. “Besides, I keep thinking about last night. How am I going to taste a fuck like that again if I let you get yourself killed?”
Red filled her cheeks. “Get away,” she said.
I laughed and backed off before she could snatch the wine glass back. I dumped it out and grabbed the bottle. I shoved the cork inside and put it back in the refrigerator. No use in letting a nice white go warm.
“We should probably talk.”
“What’s there to say?” she asked. “I’m grabbing my things and leaving.”
“I thought you were getting drunk.”
“I was getting drunk. Then I was leaving.”
I laughed. “You’re not thinking straight.”
She threw her hands up. “No shit, I’m not thinking straight. I’m terrified.”
“I know,” I said and kept my voice soft. “I know you are. Look, just come sit down on the couch and listen to me for a minute. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll help you pack and I’ll get you on the next bus out of here. Okay?”
“Train,” she said.
I frowned. “Train, what?”
“I want to get on a train,” she said.
“Right, sure,” I said. “We’ll get you on Amtrak and you can ride the rails as far south as it’ll go.”
She brushed past me and stomped out into the living room. She sat down hard on the couch and crossed her legs and her arms. She stared at me through pissed-off eyes.
“Talk,” she said.
I smiled and walked out. “The Leone Crime Family wants you dead,” I said. “It’ll send a message to your dad, right?”
“I know all this.”
“Right,” I said. “And they hired me because I’m the best.”
She hesitated. “My dad knew your name.”
“I figured,” I said.
“He sounded afraid of you, actually.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You don’t seem scary.”
“I know.” I crouched in front of her. “That’s because I’m not trying to scare you.”
She bit her lip the rolled her eyes. “You’re a little dramatic.”
I grinned and stood back up. I sat in a chair next to the couch and leaned toward her.
“My contact in the family said they’re going to send someone else,” I said. “There are a few guys they might pick, but there aren’t exactly a ton of murder-for-hire types floating around these days. Too hard to get away with shit.”
“Oh, that’s such a shame,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “They could send one of their own, but that would be stupid. They tend to be… sloppy. They’re tough and violent, but they’re not real killers.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I have a point,” I said, holding up a hand.
“Then get to it.”
“Real hitmen are dangerous,” I said. “We have to learn how to kill and how to kill efficiently. I can murder someone anywhere, anytime, with enough preparation and planning. And I know for a fact that my rivals all can do the same thing.”
“So what?”
“So it doesn’t matter if you run or not,” he said. “They’ll hunt you down.”
“Please,” she said. “I can pay cash. I can freeze my bank accounts. I can get a new phone.”
“And they’ll still track you. Facial recognition software is absolutely everywhere these days, and any killer worth his price is tapped into those systems. I know I can call up the police databases whenever I want.”
She snorted. “Liar.”
“Believe me or not, I don’t care. But I’m telling the truth. Even if you run to Florida, hop on a random boat to Barbados, you’ll still be found sooner or later. That’s just how this goes.”
“I bet I can guess what you think I should do.”
I leaned closer and raised my eyebrows. “What?”
“Stay here, with you.”
I laughed. “Damn right,” I said.
“No way,” she said. “Just no way.”
“If you stay with me, I can keep you alive. I know how these guys think and operate. I know what angles they’ll use, what time they’ll come, how they’ll do it. I can fight them off and keep you alive until the Leone family can cut a deal with your dad. We’d need weeks, at most.”
“How do you know they’d cut a deal?” she asked.
“They will,” I said.
“You have no clue.” She laughed and shook her head. “You’re so full of shit. You can’t even help yourself.”
“They will,” I said again. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Cut a deal, make everyone happen. Mafias don’t love killing each other if they can avoid it, believe it or not.”
