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Nia doesn’t respond to my explanation right away, and I feel a pang of dread when I think that I might have already screwed this up. What’s an innocent girl like her want with the kind of soldier who gets into shootouts on her front porch? She doesn’t deserve that kind of violence anyway...
“So, you’re an enforcer for a crime family?” she asks, almost as casually as she might have if she’d been asking me to clarify what I did at a more regular job.
“Um, yeah,” I answer, admittedly shocked by her relaxed candor. She hasn’t had much of a chance to relax around me yet, but if she can take the news of my occupation in stride, then there isn’t much else that can truly shock her. I take it as a good sign.
“You dress better than your average goon, though. I’ll give you that,” she teases, looking me up and down.
I let out a laugh. I almost like the way she digs at my pride, it’s an unexpected change in pace from how I’m usually treated. Most fear me; even those who have power over me fear me, if they’re smart. Only the top crust of the underworld would ever even dare to take a shot in my direction. Gianni Barone might truly be the only one—Santino was just dumb and lucky. Luca thinks he’s another, but he might find out soon enough that he’s not. Other than that, though, there’s no one... except, now, for Nia—a small curvy waitress from the westside.
“Yeah, well, I rank a little bit higher than your average goon,” I chuckle. I don’t like to show it too ostentatiously, but I’ve made a good living for myself doing what I do and I dress accordingly, if in an understated style. “You have good taste to notice,” I compliment her.
“I only know that I couldn’t afford any of what you’re wearing,” she jokes.
I feel a familiar bite in my heart. “... When did you realize I was dressed up to the nines?” I ask, hoping to hear the right answer.
“After you showed up tonight and told that tubby motherfucker off,” she laughs.
I sigh in relief. She’s not after you for your money or your status, I tell myself. This isn’t like the last time.
“You weren’t wearing an outfit like that when you got shot, were you?”
I shrug. “Yeah. My favorite jacket was ruined.”
“... You sound more disappointed about that than being shot.”
I laugh. “I survived. The jacket did not.”
Nia sways next to me, getting closer and closer with every step. “I can stitch it up for you, if you want.”
“Ah, it’s already long gone. I had to get rid of it entirely,” I tell her.
“Why?”
“Because it became evidence.”
“... Oh, yeah.”
I let her take a left on Thornberry street. We’re getting awfully close to Russian territory, but I don’t want to suggest anything that might deter us from the path we’re heading down. Nia really seems to be warming up to me, even if it’s just because I’m blocking the occasional gust of wind for her.
We walk a little further in a cozy silence. There’s hardly another soul around—the streets are empty but for the occasional false dawn of approaching headlights. I just want to grab Nia’s hand and let all the stress I’m under melt in her warmth. The inner battle I’ve been fighting all day has become hopeless—the pledges I’ve made in my past can go fuck themselves.
I want her.
12
Nia
I can feel Ronan pull away as I try to lead him off the beaten path. For such a big scary man, he sure seems reluctant to follow me into the dark. Every time we pass by an alleyway, I lean towards it, hoping that he’ll finally take the hint and shoot some true excitement into my life.
He’s already pinned me to a wall once before, when will he understand that I want him to do it again?
“I know a shortcut,” I tell him. There’s a well-lit back street just up ahead that I’ve always thought looked almost
romantic under the right light—a perfect place to get kissed by a big lug with a shady past for the first time.
“We should stay on the streets,” Ronan suggests. The sheer gravity of his body is enough to keep me from wandering too far off, but I want him bad and I’m not about to give up just yet.
“A backstreet’s still a street,” I tease, brushing my shoulder up against his. “it’s even in the name.”
