I observe her duck into a fast-food restaurant and walk up to the counter. There aren’t enough people in there for me to go unnoticed. I pull out my phone and appear to make a call. I say nothing, so I could be on hold for all anyone knows.
It doesn’t take long for a sandwich, large fries, and a small drink to appear on a tray she carries to a table in the corner. She unwraps the sandwich and closes her eyes for a moment beforetaking a bite. Even from a distance, I can tell she relishes it. She snags a couple fries before her next bite of her sandwich.
Comfort food.
She came here not because she was pressed for time but to indulge in a guilty pleasure. She savors this rather than rushing to inhale it. She clearly favors the fries since the sandwich and soda are a normal European portion—tiny by American standards—but the fries could feed two people in Germany.
She likes salty things.
You fucking perv.
I glance at my watch, and she’s been inside for nearly twenty-five minutes. It only took five minutes for her to get her food. If discovering fast-food is such an indulgence for her wasn’t so intriguing to me, I’d be bored and wishing she’d hurry. She disposes of her trash, so I turn away from the restaurant and walk two doors down. I assumed she’d head back to her office, so I walked in the opposite direction. Instead, she’s turned toward me. I duck into the store—a children’s boutique—and wait for her to pass me.
“Guten morgen.”
Damn. The sales associate is evaluating how much she thinks I’ll spend. I’m dressed too well to come across as cheap. I sweep my gaze around the store and frown.
“Entschuldigung. Falscher Laden.” Sorry. Wrong shop.
I step back on the street and nearly miss Liesel turning left at the end of the block. My long stride and broad frame mean people step aside for me. I can’t follow her as she jaywalks to cross a busy road. She’d notice me as she keeps looking both ways. She heads to a bench in a park as she pulls out her phone. She sits in the middle of an open bench, making it difficult for anyone to share it with her. She lowers her head as though she’s reading something on her phone.
I cross the street with the crowd at the crosswalk and circle around to observe her from behind. From the way her shoulders move, she’s doing some kind of breathing exercise rather than engaging with something on her phone. I creep—because that’s what I’m being—closer. Her eyes are closed. The irregular breathing rhythm tells me she’s not asleep. Not that I think she’d ever make herself so vulnerable in a public place.
I squelch my instinct to run to her when someone bumps into her as she stands. It’s hard enough to knock her backwards until she’s sitting again. I don’t like that.
She says something, but I can’t hear her. It looks like she was muttering rather than speaking to thecabrón. I notice a piece of paper on her lap at the same time she does. She looks in the man’s direction before unfolding it. Her head jerks up, and she practically jumps to her feet. She heads in the man’s direction, and I’m on the move too. I won’t let her confront whoever that was. From the way the man carries himself, he isn’t someone’s lackey. He’s trained.
When the man ducks into the U-Bahn—subway—station, she stops. She has limits to how far she’ll chase him.
Good.
I’ve angled myself, so she won’t see me unless she knows what to look for. She crumples the paper as she shoves it in her purse and makes her way toward me. I cross the street ahead of her and once again step into a shop. This one is busy, so I don’t worry about a sales associate approaching me before I can get back outside and continue following Liesel.
She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin before breezing through her office building’s door. She’s back to being self-assured and in control. I’m back in my car making a real call.
“Joaquin, any updates on the leak?”
“I haven’t heard anything you haven’t. Any thoughts on who that was?”
I know Joaquin’s been listening too since he texted me to say he couldn’t sleep, so he was going to monitor her office.
“No, not yet. Who do you think’s behind this?”
“The better question is who isn’t? There are plenty of people who’d like to fuck us over and fuck over the deal. Namely Maks, but it’s not like Salvatore and Dillan aren’t close behind on that list. It could be Tommaso in Boston or Gareth in Trenton. It could be Jean-Peter in Montreal.”
The list goes on for people overconfident enough to think they rival us or people who’re delusional enough to aspire to rival us. They’re like a train of ants. Where there’s one, there’re plenty. They follow each other blindly until we crush them under our Italian leather shoes—the only Italian thing good enough for us. Sometimes it takes spraying bug killer—a spray of bullets—to make people realize we’re the apex predators.
“Where’d she go on her errands? Did you hear someone go in and out of her office?”
“No. I stopped listening when I followed her. She got some food and then went to sit in the park. I think she wanted the time alone. But someone dropped a note on her lap, which she crumpled up and shoved in her purse.”
“Good thing she didn’t notice she has a second shadow.”
“Yeah. Good thing.”
I roll my eyes because he can’t see me. Joaquin and Javier are giving me a hard time about her.TíoEnrique just wants me to finish up and come home. As far as mytío’sconcerned, I’m more interested in Gunter’s comings and goings than Liesel’s. My brothers didn’t need to guess.Mamátold them.
“I’d ask how much longer you’re going to keep this up, but I suppose I need to water your plants again.”
