AllFreeNovel
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I squint across the room at the title:The Butcher of Oslo.The letters are steel gray, etched over the image of a snowy white street criss-crossed with crimson footprints. “Um.” I fiddle with my cardigan. “Yes. But we have plenty of books without violence in our other sections…”
She’s already turned away, hissing something at her son. Cool. That’s cool.
If Aunt Karen were here, she’d whisper something hilarious and awful in my ear. She’dloveNico, too. Her next video call can’t come soon enough.
Does Nico have family? Are they also in the mob?
Will I ever meet them—you know, and live to tell the tale?
Can’t imagine the mafia settling down to Thanksgiving dinner. Nor do I think Raul was my biggest fan, but in my defense, he was way too casual about threatening to kill me. Nico thought I didn’t notice, but I did.
It’s messed up that I want to see my mobster again so badly. Even Aunt Karen has better survival instincts than this.
* * *
The afternoon goes slow. Thursdays always do—they’re sleepy days, when the traffic outside is muffled like the cars are wrapped in cotton wool, and even the ticking store clock seems lethargic. It’s cloudy out today, with fluffy white snowflakes dancing on the breeze.
Is Nico cold out there in that bus stop?
No. Doesn’t matter.
He’s a grown-ass mobster; he can take care of himself.
For hours, I serve customers in a dreamy haze, taking breaks when the shop is quiet to neaten up the shelves and dust the display tables. The radio plays nothing but holiday tunes, and my jaw cracks every time I yawn.
Nico and Raul were exciting, I’ll give them that. The hours they spent in my bookshop were the most alive I’ve felt in months.
“Excuse me.” A man’s deep voice pulls me out of my daydream, and I glance over from where I’m sorting the letter Ps back into alphabetical order. A customer stands in the center of the store, hands spread in a goofy plea. He’s wearing a smart gray coat and a red tartan scarf, and on the spot, I decide he’s probably a dentist. He has that vibe. “Any chance you know what five year old girls are reading these days?”
Hell yeah I do, and I’m already grinning, pushing away from the shelf. “Depends on the little girl. Is she into horses or ballet? Ice skating or softball?”
The man flushes pink. “Uh. Yes.”
Figured.
I snort, leading the poor guy over to the kids’ section, and already I’m more awake. This is my favorite part of running a bookshop: chatting with customers and finding them the perfect read, like some literary matchmaker. I’m so wrapped up in serving the maybe-dentist that I don’t notice the tinkling bell of someone entering the shop. By the time footsteps prowl around the shelves, I’m kneeling on the polka dot rug and pulling glossy kids’ books off the shelves.
“This one’s super cute, it’s about a mouse who opens a bakery—”
I cut off, glancing up at the newcomer. Nico leans against the bookshelves, watching me work with strong arms folded over his chest and a sour expression.
Guess he’s not thrilled to find me kneeling at the feet of another man. But the shelves are near the floor, and what else am I supposed to do? Bend over?
“One moment, sir,” I tell the mobster, widening my eyes.
Nico glowers. Seeing him up close again with that powerful body and stormy gaze makes me flush hot all over. Were his cheekbones always that sharp? The barber did a great job with his scruff.
“Oh, I don’t know,” the dentist laughs weakly from my other side, “I’m clueless about these things. This could take a while.”
Oh dear.
That was not a wise statement.
Slowly, so slowly, the mobster turns his gaze on the other man. I wince, squeezing the book in my hand, and silently pray that my bookshop won’t see any more blood stains this month. At what point do I become an accessory to Nico’s crimes?
Soft and deadly, the mobster says: “Choose your book.”
The dentist splutters, but I let out a relieved sigh.
