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“Fuck,” he groans for my ears only. “Have I told you how sexy it is seeing you handle a gun?”
“You have. Every time you’ve taken me shooting.”
His arm slides possessively along my hip and I feel his breath on the back of my neck. “Just wait ’til we’re back in the loft.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It should. You’ve been teasing me all night. Time for payback.”
Salvatore keeps his word. The moment we make it home, he’s picking me up in his arms, and depositing me onto the sofa. Poor Salt and Pepa whine as they scurry to find hiding places the more layers of our clothes come off.
I ride Salvatore until we’re both sweaty and breathless heaps with entangled limbs.
The perfect end to our evening.
22. salvatore
Weeks goby and my men continue scouring the city in search of Delphine’s attacker. It seems every time we’ve made some progress, we’ve encountered a dead end shortly after. Finding her stolen necklace hasn’t been any easier. Omar has been tasked with visiting every pawn shop and secondhand store in Northam to see if it turns up. He’s even kept a close eye on the city’s black-market exchange in case anybody’s hawking it under the table.
I wanted to have it returned to Delphine by Christmas. It would’ve made her happy. The perfect present for the occasion. I don’t give a damn about holidays—or any other manufactured special occasion—but the day has always been one of her favorites.
The morning of Christmas Eve rolls around, and I’m pondering what last-minute present I can get her that’s comparable when Omar calls. I almost don’t answer. Figuring out Delphine’s present is more important than whatever useless update he has.
“Psycho, I think I’ve found it,” he says the second I reluctantly answer. “The necklace. I’m not sure if it’s the same one, but it looks just like the pics you sent me. The clerk says it’s only been here two days. Somebody sold it for some cash.”
I sit up in my desk chair. “Who?”
“He wouldn’t say. Some store policy.”
“Stay where you are.”
I’m halfway out of the club when I hang up.
Omar waits for me outside the door of the EZ Pawn on Fifth and Warring. It’s not the best neighborhood, with litter on the wet ground and graffiti-tag on the buildings. Panhandlers take notice as I park my bike and get off. One glare from me is enough to ward them off and make them go accost the next person wandering by.
“Where is it?”
“I told the guy to put it on hold. He says it’s vintage. At least third generation. The timeline seems to work out... and it looks a lot like the pictures you gave us to go off of. But they’re selling it for a pretty penny.”
“I don’t give a fuck how much it costs.”
We head into the pawn shop to the stench of stale tobacco and cheap air freshener. Merchandise of all kinds crowds the room. Tacky fur coats hang on racks and a selection of gaudy gold watches glint from behind a glass display case. Random knickknacks like blenders and hardware tools sit on shelves that form aisles throughout the store.
A couple customers browse with curious looks on their faces. Probably doing their last-minute Christmas shopping.
Omar and I cut a direct path to the jewelry counter. A lopsided Santa hat sits on the head of the guy behind the register. He smells so bad, he’s in competition with the tobacco and air freshener stinking up the store—his cologne is an equally nauseating stench of sweaty ball juice and sour milk. It’s bad enough that Omar and I exchange glances.
The man casts us a clueless smile, showing off a gold cap. “How may I help you, gentlemen?”
“You can start by opening a window,” I answer. “It smells like shit in here.”
He laughs. “You get used to it after a while. We have a cologne and perfume section—any bottle you want for $5.99. Many, many designer brands. I shop here myself.”
“That’s not at all surprising. My associate spoke to you a few minutes ago about a rose necklace.”
“Ahhh, yes.Therose necklace. A very beautiful, very unique piece. I put it aside as promised.”
I plant my hands on the glass case as the man turns away and rummages through a private lockbox behind the counter. The jewelry selection at the EZ Pawn varies. Some of the pieces for sale resemble the cheap stuff you’d wear once and turn your skin green. A few others look more legit, though decades older.
