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Chapter 16
Gia
I have an ear-to-ear smile while hugging Stacey goodbye in my car. “Thank you so, so much for putting your life on hold, and for being a potential sniper target alongside me, and helping me with the mechanic. I owe you big.”
“Oh you.” She gives me a big fat kiss on the cheek. “I’m just happy this is all over. It was kind of fun playing ‘hide from the Russian murderer’ with you, but let’s not do it again so soon, kay?”
I chuckle. “I’ll do my best.”
“You owe me, huh? Get me into the next Valentino event at Bangos and we’ll call it even. God… I need some dangerous mafia dick in my life.”
“Done.” I put a hand to my heart.
“Speaking of… are you still going to shy away from talking about Mr. DeMatteo? C’mon, give me something. Is he this big?” She holds out her hands about the length of a large pickle.
Heat fills my cheeks.
“No? Bigger?” She creates more distance. “What!” She reaches the length of a good-sized banana, and I bite my lip.
“Bye, girl.” I nudge her off the seat, forcing her to open the door and get the heck out of my car before I die from embarrassment. “And Stacey. Not a word to anybody, okay? I’m in a bad situation right now.”
“I know.” She squeezes my arm, reassuring me. “Stay strong, lovey.”
Now that I’m alone, my chest feels exponentially lighter. The text I received from Castor this morning is everything. I’ve looked it over a thousand times at this point:
Castor: Hey, kid. Good news. You’re safe to return to Queens. Come to 8-18 Previs Street in Jackson Heights by 2 p.m. I have a present for you.
It was a long ride to get here. First a five-hour drive from Vermont – where we spent the last few days in a quaint Airbnb – now I’m headed to the address from Stacey’s apartment in Howard Beach.
I arrive at a store called ‘West End Gold Buyers.’ Must be one of Castor’s. The sign is run down, the letters appear like they were painted yellow about two decades ago, and the front door is caged steel with a buzzer. Shady stuff.
As I approach, the door unlocks before I can press any buttons, so I enter. An elderly man in a black polo brushes one of the many intricate pieces of gold jewelry in the glass case.
“Hello, Ms.”
“Hello,” I say, looking around at the various knickknacks plated in gold. Guitars, wind chimes, all sorts of oddities worth looking at surround me.
“Mr. Bullion is waiting for you. Straight down the hall, door to the left. He’s down the stairs.”
“Okay, thank you.” I head where I’m told, touching the plaques on the wall for outstanding craftsmanship from GoldStyle magazine. I didn’t know Castor’s business was so famous. Even though I’m thrilled he took care of whatever issue he had outstanding, I’m still worried as hell about what the future holds.
My heart leaps back and forth whenever I think about it. I swore off mobster life because of my stupid brother. Now look at me… diving headfirst right back into it. Did I learn nothing from the past?
Seriously, though, how could I resist? It’s Castor DeMatteo. A man who refuses to goddamn peak.
Call me what you want, but he’s as rare as lightning in a bottle. Ever since that night he stayed over, he showed me what a complete household looks like. After a long day of work, and a session of hot steam, he’s there, holding me in his big arms just enjoying my company like I’m the only girl in the world who matters.
But he’s dangerous, a stray thought enters. And he put you in harm’s way.
The metal staircase clangs after every step, making me feel like a two-ton ogre descending the stairs. There’s another steel door at the bottom, with a fogged up glass square at eyelevel. Am I going into a sauna?
I consider knocking, but he’s expecting me, so why not surprise him with my face. Turning the knob is tough. The door is so goddamn heavy.
Rrrr.
It creaks as I heave it open, leaving me to wave away steam as I enter.
When my vision clears, I’m shocked, turned on, and horrified all at once.
