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Talon is an arrogant bastard but violence is his hobby. His game needs to be played carefully. If I give him an excuse to charge in here then he’ll have a damn good time ripping up the place and steamrolling anyone who gets in the way.
“Fine, have your little power trip but this better not take long.” Sounding intentionally bored, I end the call before he can say another word.
Fiona has listened to my end of the exchange with raised eyebrows. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just have to go bend the knee to my cousin’s ego.”
Her brow pleats. “Take Vito with you. Andrei too. They’re both here.”
“No need.” I grab my purse out of the lowest desk drawer. “I’ll go out the back. Don’t tell anyone where I went.”
“Haven.” She stands, worry shadowing her face. “Be careful and watch your back.”
I wink and tuck my purse under my arm. “I always do.”
But I sound far braver than I feel.
Chapter18
Haven
Essex Street is uglier than usual in the late afternoon sun. I’m stopped at the door by a member of Talon’s steroid-enhanced goon squad. His hands roam too freely and I smack the side of his head.
“Watch it, pal. My tits aren’t a lethal threat.”
The guy squares up to his full height and sneers but drops his hands. “You’re clear.”
“And you took my purse. Return it.”
My reflection stares back from the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “You can collect your shit on the way out.”
There aren’t words enough to describe how intensely I dislike stepping into my cousins’ hangout empty handed. Even if there’s little chance I’d need to grab a gun because Jared and Talon aren’t quitethatfucking stupid, it’s always better to have the option.
There’s been a shift in the mood since the last time I was in here. It’s not usual for family members to receive full body pat downs. My cousins must be getting delusions of mafia grandeur.
The trio of men seated at a corner table in the otherwise empty bar are unfamiliar. Their muttered conversation pauses as they watch me walk by. The one in the middle nods to the other two and without a word they rise from their chairs and exit through the main door.
A distinct click, the sound of a lock being flipped, follows a second later.
The small hairs on my arms prickle as if blasted by sudden cold. I’m reminded of a story my dad is fond of telling about the first time he escaped a hit.
He was just a young punk barely out of high school and trying to hustle his way into the Em City gambling scene. A bookie named Marino took offense over losing a few clients to some arrogant upstart. He sent out an invitation to an exclusive high stakes poker game that was supposed to happen in an abandoned bread factory not far from here. My father figured out something was up when he got there and noticed there were no lights on. But more than that, he said there was just awrongfeeling about the place, every instinct shrieking at him to run. Before he could sprint back to his car, a bullet whistled right by his head. He dove behind a dumpster for cover.
At that point he had a choice. He could make a run for it or he could stick around and eliminate the threat. He pretended to escape. Then he doubled back to the scene and delivered a bullet right between Marino’s eyes.
To this day when he comes across a sketchy situation he jokes that the ghost of Marino is breathing on him.
The ghost of Marino is breathing on me right now.
“There you are. We were just about to go looking for you.”
The man speaking from the shadows is no ghost. He emerges from the gloomy space to the right of the empty bar. The soles of his shoes slap on the tile with each deliberate step.
My cousin Talon always turns the heads of women who aren’t alert enough to see past his sharp looks. They don’t notice the cruel glint in grey eyes that seem to rarely blink. My cousin and I look similar enough to be siblings yet that’s where any connection ends.
I don’t bother to hide my scowl. “Talon, what the fuck is so critically important that I needed to drop everything and run over here?”
An air conditioner belches to life and wheezes cold air from an overhead vent. I suppress the urge to shiver.
