Page 236 of Don’t Say Mafia

He flinched and snapped his head up, his eyes bloodshot and wary. “What the fuck,” he muttered. “Where did you come from?”

His reaction reminded me of what had happened to Eden this morning, though, and I had to force myself to focus on the task.

I held up my hands innocently. “Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

He squinted at me as if he could place me. “You a cop?”

The fact that I didn’t snort out loud at that question was a true testament to my self-control. “Definitely not,” I said.

Although, I do control all the city cops.

He was even more stupid than I’d thought, because that vague answer seemed to satisfy him. His shoulders loosened a fraction. “Okay.”

I leaned back against the brick across from him, trying to look unthreatening. “You look like you’re having one of those days.”

He barked out a laugh that held no humor. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Bad day at work?” I asked.

His shoulders slumped. “Bad day at everything,” he slurred. “Fucked up another interview. My girl’s gonna kill me. I promised her I’d get a job this week . . . and now it’s all fucked up. I just need a fucking break.”

I nodded like I was empathizing with him and reached into my pocket. “Breaks come in different forms.”

His eyes locked on the movement instantly and hunger sharpened his features, burning away any caution he’d been feeling. “What do you have?” he asked.

“Some really good stuff,” I said vaguely as I pulled out the small baggie and held it up so he could see the white powder inside.

He was like a starving dog spotting food as he stared at it.

“Want to try?” I asked innocently.

He hesitated, glancing down the street, then back at me. “I don’t have much.”

I named a price that was generous enough not to feel fake.

Ryan didn’t try to talk me down. Instead, he fumbled into his pocket and pulled out a folded bill, smoothing it nervously between his fingers. When he held it out, I held in a growl. I’d bet my Lambo that it was one of the bills I’d given Eden as a tip . . . and that Eden hadn’t given it to him.

Ryan deserved everything he had coming.

I took it without comment, folded it once, and tucked it into my jacket before handing him the bag.

It was all I could do not to grin as I watched him immediately start to fumble with it. He poured a line on the back of his hand with shaking fingers and snorted it quick and messy, like he was afraid I’d change my mind.

His head snapped back, his eyes rolling for a second before they refocused. A slow, stupid smile spread across his face as the high sank in. “Fuck,” he breathed. “That’s . . . that’s good.”

I smiled back. “Yes, it is.”

His legs suddenly buckled, and I caught him under the arms and propped him up against the wall.

“Easy,” I murmured.

I reached for the baggie and poured another line onto the back of his hand. He stared at it with glassy eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t,” he slurred.

“Take it,” I said. “Take it and forget. Forget the interview. Forget your girl. Forget everything.”

He hesitated for one more second before he bent his head and snorted it deep. His body jerked once and then his eyes rolled back and he passed out, his head lolling to the side.

I didn’t have to hide my grin now.