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“Not safe? It isn’t Chicago, Angelo. I’m sure I can get back to my place without being gunned down.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“It’s two minutes from here.”
“Not the point. Where’s Jasmine?”
“At home, watching cartoons would be my bet.”
“Who’s watching her?” He sounds angry with me.
“Will you relax? I’ve been taking care of her for four years, I know what I’m doing.”
He continues scowling at me.
“She’s perfectly safe. Cara collected her from preschool and took her home. Eileen’s with her now. That’s the routine on a Thursday. She has lots of people who take care of her. She is perfectly safe. Now, are we going home or are we standing here in the dark all night?”
“I brought the new mayor with me today.”
“Oh?”
“Alan Sergeant. An accountant for the family, sorting out all the chaos Winnie left behind. He’ll keep a close eye on Luigi for us until I’m ready to deal with him.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Winnie left all her details on her computer so Alan had a little look at her accounts. She received ten thousand dollars from you just after I sent it. Straight from your account to hers. Want to explain?”
“It’s not what you think. She was going to shut the store down unless I paid her the rent upfront.”
“I gave you that money because you told me the book cost that much. Did you lie to me?”
“Yes, all right, but for the right reasons.”
He sighs, then takes hold of my shoulder in his massive hand. “I can’t abide lies, Natalie.”
“You got your book, what does it matter?”
“It matters because honesty matters. I own the bookstore now, so no rent would have been due. You wasted that money, gave it to her when she didn’t deserve it, lied to me about what it was for. I want my money back.”
“I can’t get it back. Winnie’s got it.”
“That puts you in debt to me. I will have the money or I will have something else from you.” His hand slides down my back. “Something I’ve wanted since the last time I saw you.”
“What’s that?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“You.”
Chapter Twelve
Angelo
* * *
I drop her off at home. She invites me in to see Jasmine again, but I decline. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” I tell her. “Be ready at eight.”
She looks disappointed, but she doesn’t protest. I watch her heading inside before driving into the center of town. I park up outside the sheriff’s station and head inside. Alan is sitting at a desk at the back, barely visible behind a mountain of files and boxes. “How’s it going?” I ask, heading over to him.
“Treated this town like his own personal fiefdom,” Alan replies, lifting boxes off a chair so I can sit down. “It’s going to take some unraveling to sort it all out.”
