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God, I’m such an asshole.
I know that the only way I’m going to get Nia out of my head is if I get in a foot chase with Santino. I have too much room to think right now. I need some action.
I try to focus on what I already know. I may be slipping right now, but I’m a good tracker, and all signs lead to Santino having circled back around to Chinatown. It makes sense, it a twisted kind of way. Any other route in the city, even one leading out of it, would have been heavily watched by either the Russian’s or the Barone’s. I’d also been told that Santino was known for spending a lot of time in the opioid dens that litter the area—surely, his familiarity with the community was one of the reasons why he went to hide out there in the first place—it could also be the reason why he returned. There’s plenty of food to steal for someone who knows where to get it. There’s also booze and drugs for that same kind of person. But if Santino is still in Chinatown, where is he hiding out?
The triad wouldn’t dare shelter him again. They were made well aware of the consequences. They’re tough, but also the smallest of the three syndicates that run this town, and they’re too smart to risk so much fury for so little gain. What is Santino worth to anybody alive? Nothing, surely. He’s low-level in every sense of the word.
Anger builds up in me as I fail to figure out any new leads. None of this makes much sense at all.
Suddenly, I feel a familiar vibration coming from a pocket. I check. This time, it’s my phone. A text. From Luca.
Two Days.
I shove my phone back into my pocket. The utter bastard. How am I ever going to work for him? I barely even get along with his old man, who at least shows some restraint and some respect, but Luca? That greaseball can go jump in a fire.
I take a deep breath and run my fingers through my hair. My coffee’s all gone but I’m still exhausted.
I shouldn’t concentrate my anger on Luca—he’s probably only relaying the message from his father, anyway. I need to concentrate on that rat Santino.
Where the fuck is he?
I pull my phone back out.
Chinatown, 30 minutes, I text Finn.
My black duffle bag full of gear sits unused by the doorway, taunting me. Much use I had for all that firepower last night, I think, as I tuck my trusty old Glock into the back of my pants and throw on a leather bomber jacket. I’m only taking the essentials today.
My phone buzzes again.
In the daylight?? Finn’s texted back.
I don’t have time to wait for the cover of darkness. Plus, there’s only one person who’s going to recognize me down there, and as much as I offended her last night, I can’t see her reporting me to the cops. There was something... different between us. It took all of my willpower not to jump on her in the dimly lit hallway. The heat from her curvy body nearly made me blind with desire.
Fuck me, I think, as I claw my face in the elevator down to my car. What am I doing to myself?
It’s a cold crisp day. Bright sunlight beats down from the clear blue sky and attacks my numb cheeks, freezing a permanent squint onto my face.
I just got done talking to a bunch of Triad members. They were about as polite as one could expect from a rival gang, but I wouldn’t have even cared about their shitty attitude, if they’d at least been able to provide me with some useful information.
They didn’t know shit.
I still don’t know shit.
Busy people brush by me on the sidewalk. Everybody has their coats pulled up and their heads down. If it was warmer, it’d be a perfect day, but there’s a winter chill in the air that isn’t promising to let up anytime soon.
Finn’s been doing some detective work of his own. We have a picture of Santino now, and Finn’s been asking civilians if they’ve seen him around. I’d do the same, if any normal person would talk to me. I’m well aware of how intimidating I am; it’s mostly by design—and it’s what made Nia standing up to me last night so impressive—but it’s not helping me gather much intel right now.
She still holds the biggest piece of property in my mind as I walk to the corner of Baker street. I gaze eastward. In the distance, I can see a customer walking out of Chelly’s diner.
I feel like an addict. Every inch of my body is pulling me back to that diner, but my mind is screaming no. Even my aching arm, which has nearly numbed in the cool temperature, seems to be throbbing towards Nia.
I must be going insane. I just need to catch Santino, then everything else will come together. It’s all I can tell myself to keep my head from imploding.
“Lunch?” Finn’s voice comes over my earpiece.
My stomach growls in response. I’ve barely had a full meal since the whole mess in front of Chelly’s diner two nights ago. Maybe I just need to eat something to get my mind straight... I can’t keep withholding essentials until things just magically start to work out. I need to be at the top of my game, and a full belly feeds a hungry mind.
Still, “We can’t be seen together,” I remind the brash young cop.
