“I’ll keep an eye on the street.” Chuckling, Hands slaps my back and disappears.
“Copy that.” I say to no one.
Giving a wave to The Klutz, The Lobster, and David, I walk inside where my client helps a spry, elderly woman out of her chair.
I need to speak with her, alone. “Interested in grabbing some lunch?”
She glances at the clock on the wall over the cash register. “I have to be back in an hour. Maybe we could grab a slice at Petey’s?”
“Be right back.” She waves at her mom and sister, then grabs her coat.
I think about what Sam said about getting her to recall more about what she heard but memories are strange. The more you force them, the more they’re likely to stay hidden.
“I’m surprised you’re still here. I thought for sure you’d leave.” At her cool tone, my jawbone tightens.
“I told Suds I’d keep an eye on you. I don’t break my word.”
Her eyes narrow.
Damn. She’s good. Using no words, she cuts deep and pouts for the next few blocks.
I don’t know what I did wrong, but someone needs to apologize. It might as well be me. Thus, I gallantly step in front of her as he reaches for the door handle, trying hard as hell to make sad, puppy-dog eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry.”
She sighs. “No, this is all my fault. How about I call Suds and ask him to release you from your blood oath? I’m sure you saw my uncle’s men. No one would dare attack me in his neighborhood.”
If she’s right, whyamI here?
We walk past the booth to the back where a big man takes our order. She wants a veggie slice, which, in my mind, is an unforgivable sin.
“I’ll have two with pepperoni.” I’m biting into my second piece and starting to grill her again when the proprietor approaches.
The balding man wipes greasy hands on his sauce-stained apron while flexing his fists. “Rose. You wants I should ask him to leave?”
“No. He’s my bodyguard. It’s fine.” She focuses on her plate. “Oh God, this is good.”
Frowning, he points two fat fingers at his eyes, then aims them at me. “Not yours, understand?”
“Jesus, Petey. Get lost.” She swats her napkin at him and as he mutters under his breath, an older man walks from behind a walk-in cooler into the dining area.
Rose rolls her eyes and leans her voluptuous chest over the red checkered tablecloth. “Oh cripes. It’s my Uncle Vinny. Ignore him, okay?”
The sixtyish man, dressed in an expensive black suit, tie, and white dress shirt, kisses her on both cheeks. “Bella. I heard about last night. What da fuck you doin’, sniffin’ where you don’t belong?”
“Zio, I wasn’t. Sam’s tabby cat jumped on the keyboard.”
“I should’ve dumped the damned feline in the river, the last time it pulled this shit.” His jowls bounce and cigar ashes fly as he shakes his head.
“Frankie would kill you. He thinks of her as family.”
“The hitman is pressing his luck.” Vincent’s eyes rove over me while I chow down on my slices.
“You fuck wid her, you answer to me.”
Not wanting to get on his bad side, I ignore his tone and slowly chew, returning his insolent stare with one of my own. I’ve put down more guys like him than I care to count.
He must sense he’s entered dangerous waters but neither of us release our gaze until Rose stands between us. “Enough! Bye, Uncle Vinny. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
