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“What if I’m an actual idiot and @dirtyhackz works for the government?” I groan, banging my head against the desk. And why the hell am I even feeling bad about the possibility I might be betraying Dante? It’s not like he’s been nice to me. Come to think of it, he’s been the ultimate douchebag all this time. Well, except giving me a well-paid job where I barely do anything of substance… And making sure I was okay after the bus station guard attacked me. Still, he’s a dick. Ahotdick, I wouldn’t mind giving a lick.Gah! Focus!
A message alert coming from my laptop has me lifting my head up to scan the screen, only to be greeted by a joke about hackers and anal that makes me snort and has my mood lifting. Biting my lip, I hover my fingers over the keyboard and wiggle them before replying with a dirty joke about a toaster. I get a laughing gif in reply followed by a message that Nico hasn’t opened the email yet. I scrunch my face in disappointment.
Well, fuck. Did he just delete it? @dirtyhackz tries to convince me it’s still early and he could just be out and about, then distracts me with questions about Blackwood and the view from my office. Apparently, they have an ocean view too, except they’re somewhere in California. After a while of me hinting at it, they finally admit they do in fact own a scooter, but haven’t ridden it in years. I’m appalled, which just makes them laugh. It honestly feels like we’ve known each other our whole life, and when, just before we say goodbye, they tell me their name, I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
Arrow. I suppose knowing it makes it that much more real. Like we really are starting a friendship. Maybe, at some point in the near future, I could even ask them to help withmysearch. Track down my family, or dig out information about me and how I’m connected to this town… Maybe. But for now, the thought alone has my stomach in knots, so I push it away and pick up the two printed pages with the port data on them.
It wasn’t hard figuring out what the headings and abbreviations mean, well except the two I’m still trying to decode. The DI and DO. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what they could be, and neither does Google. It just doesn’t make sense. There are dates, vessel’s name and number, cargo weight declared—all abbreviated or in code. It’s not surprising, since it’s all probably relating to drugs or guns or whatever it is mafia deals in these days. Poker chips? Whatever it is, the two columns I’ve been unable to decode are giving me a headache. There’s nothing I can make sense of. I’m just about to google example spreadsheets of shipping port logs when the door to the office opens.
I squeak, jumping in my seat like I’ve just been caught doing something naughty. I clear my throat, trying to calm my racing heart and turn my head to give Dante the stink eye for scaring me.
“Hey, Alessa,” Luca smiles at me from the doorway. “Or is it Stevie? Which one do you go by these days?”
I smile back, swivelling my chair around to face him and crossing my legs. “That depends on who’s asking. Most often I’m just known as Enigma.”
He chuckles. “Funny, coming from someone so transparent.”
I gasp in shock. Transparent? “You must have me confused with someone else. My poker face has won more awards than Lady Gaga’s.”
He just raises his eyebrow, his eyes sweeping around the place. “Done some rearranging?”
I feign ignorance. “It was like this when I got here this morning.”
His lips thin as he tries to suppress a smile. “I like it,” he finally says. “But Dante will probably get ma—”
“He’d have to get back here first,” I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. “And where exactly isEl Enojado?” I ask, definitely butchering the language.
“El who?”
“Enojado. It means angry in Spanish.” I should know. I googled how to say angry in every single language.
“You know we’re Italian, right?”
“A leopard doesn’t change his spots, no matter the language. Besides,arrabbiato1 makes him sound like a delicious pasta dish, and he’s definitely not delicious.”Lies. All lies.
Luca scratches the back of his head before shaking it slowly. “Not sure I want to argue with that,” he mutters. “Anyway, Dante asked me to give you a lift back home.”
He’s not coming back?
“Not today. He’s got business to take care of.”
Shit, did I say it out loud?Never mind, I won’t turn down a free lift home. “Do you think we could go down to the port first?” I ask, turning around and stuffing the logs into my bag.
“Probably not a good idea. I’m supposed to take you straight back home.”
“No worries. I’ll just walk there after you drop me off then.” I smile sweetly before turning back to close my laptop.
“Ah, fuck. Fine. We’ll go to the port first.” He shakes his head.
You see?
Poker face is my middle name.
16
ALESSA
“You really need to stop stroking the car.” Luca laughs when my hand darts out for the millionth time, fingers grazing the shiny console.
