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“Yeah, she did,” I agreed. There was no way to deny that. Even if she did end up being a soulless conwoman.
She’d turned my house into a home.
The problem being that now I saw her everywhere.
On her tiptoes painting the walls in the living room. Naked on the dining room table. Dancing around while making us dinner. She’d touched every goddamn room in this place.
My bed.
My tub.
The only room she hadn’t renovated was the room where her betrayal became clear.
There was nowhere safe.
“Okay. I might have something,” Cesare said. “Got an Avery. Twenty-six.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Brooklyn,” he said, and I felt like that tracked.
Sure, parts of Brooklyn were coming up, getting expensive. But it had its rougher, and therefore cheaper, neighborhoods too.
“Can you narrow it down more than that?” I asked, already making my way toward the door.
“Yeah,” he said, rattling off an address. “Can’t guarantee she’s still there. These sites never update as often as you’d like.”
“It’s something,” I said, opening the door.
“Emilio,” Lorenzo called, giving me a look.
“I want to do this alone,” I said, knowing him too well.
“Brio as backup. Just in case,” Lorenzo said. “You’re too important to this Family to walk into a possible trap.”
“I need Brio for the cats,” I said. And, thankfully, Brio didn’t look offended.
“Got me then,” Salvatore volunteered.
“Alright,” I agreed. “Let’s go.”
That feeling in my gut?
Felt a fuckuva lot like hope.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Emilio
Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I’d spent any time in Brooklyn as a whole, let alone the Bushwick neighborhood where, apparently, Avery lived.
What struck me first was the color.
Graffiti covered many of the buildings. But not lame-ass tags. So and so was X. Or other basic shit like that. This was big, intricate, well-done art.
“Feel a little overdressed,” Salvatore said as we pulled up to the curb in front of a red brick building.
Four floors, three likely with apartments.
A young mom and her daughter were sitting on the front steps, the four or five-year-old coloring the steps with chalk.
“How you want to work this?” Salvatore asked. “Figure the boss wants me to come in with you. But if she’s just a woman living here alone, can’t imagine there’d be much of a threat inside.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’d rather you stay here and keep an eye out. If anything seems off, call me.”
“Got it,” Salvatore agreed. “Hey, Emilio,” he called.
“Yeah?”
“Give her a chance to explain,” he said.
“That’s the plan,” I agreed, climbing out, my gaze sweeping the street. Looking for… what? Bad guys watching me, ready to swoop in and gun me down?
Not likely.
On a sigh, I made my way toward the steps.
“That’s a nice cat,” I said to the little girl on the steps. “Can I step over him real quick?” I asked, getting a small smile from her mom.
“‘Kay,” the little girl said, and I was careful not to step on her art.
“Do you know if Avery is home?” I asked the mom.
“I heard her door, but it’s been quiet since then,” she said, looking up, inadvertently telling me exactly where Avery lived.
Third floor, the front unit to the left of the front door.
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing the door, and just barely resisting a head shake when it turned in my hand without a lock.
At least two young woman living in a building without a fucking basic-ass lock.
The elevator seemed dicey at best, so I climbed the steps instead, passing a teenager sitting on the step, headphones on his ears, bobbing his head to his music, completely ignoring me.
I could see Avery living here.
Tripping up these steps, walking down the colorful streets doing her window shopping.
I got to the third floor, going to the left apartment.
What was the protocol here?
Knocking?
I guess, yeah, knocking.
I scooted out of the way of the peephole and knocked.
Listened.
Knocked again.
Nothing.
No sound.
She could just be out.
In which case… what?
I wait in the hallway? Risk having to chase her down the street? Get the police called on me.
On a sigh, I reached for my wallet, glad that the guys and I had agreed ages ago, when we were a bunch of idiot kids, that carrying a basic lock pick set was always a good idea in our line of work.
She didn’t even have a deadbolt.
Or a chain.
The lock gave in a matter of seconds, allowing me to move inside before the other tenant, if they were around, got suspicious about my presence there.
I don’t know what I was expecting of Avery’s place. I guess something with the intense attention to detail that she’d put into my place.
This was… not that.
The door opened into the small living room. Really, I think my bathroom was bigger than her living room with its white walls, light wood floors, and two windows overlooking the street with a radiator between them.
No drapes on the windows, just the plastic blinds that likely came with the place.
