I was made up of the rush of the world mixed with Edna’s solitary contentment.
There was a hunger inside of me to hunt down more information about them, and once I found it, it would sustain me for a while.
Justfor a while, though.
The magnetism I felt toward them always drew me back for more.
A tugging on my hand made me turn my eyes from the sky to the ground. Hoffa. I’d bought her a cat harness and leash and decided to take it on a test run. She was low to the ground, stalking a bunch of pigeons that were waiting for day-old bread from Valentino’s, Lilo’s father’s bakery.
I’d been drawn to it ever since my eyes opened that morning. I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that Tigran was still touching my skin, and I couldn’t slip out of it.
I was never alone—this was New York—but I’d never not had my sister close. She’d always been there, even if we hadn’t talked in a while. For the first time since I was a kid, I could feel an entirely new crack in my life, and it felt like it was bleeding—at the same rate Tigran had.
Fuck feelings.
I loathed them like Parker loathed me.
I was Hoffa.
Dispassionate.
Dismissive.
Deadly.
Repeat it like a mantra, Ava. Refuse to let weighty feelings get you down. Treat your life like you do an article. Find the facts. Report on them. Leave emotion out of it.
“What the fuck you lookin’ at?” I asked when I realized a pair of eyes were on me. A guy stood next to Valentino’s, using it as a prop as he smoked his cigarette, staring hard at me and Hoffa.
He took a drag and blew it my way. “Your pussy.”
Asshole.
“Ever met a pussy with claws so sharp they could rip you in two?” I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. It was the same way Hoffa had been looking at the pigeons.
I wished Mooch, Lilo’s horse (haha) and pit bull mix, was on the other end of the leash instead of Hoffa. That jerk wouldn’t have looked at me twice. If the asshole tried something, Mooch would lunge, whereas Hoffamightonly go for his jugular because she was in hunting mode.
Hoffa dug her claws in when I tugged on her leash, pissed that she was being interrupted. Finally, she went, but she was being a real bitch about it. I wanted to get to the store at the corner. I knew the man who owned it. He was connected to the Italian mafia. I could have gone inside of Valentino’s, but I didn’t want to give Michele, Lilo’s father, any trouble. He’d just lost his wife and, in a big way, his son and his family. My sister was pregnant, and before she left, she’d spent more time at Valentino’s than Lilo had.
Besides, Michele would help me, but I never liked to deal with the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at me. He hated all things criminal, and for a while, that included his son.
Mentally edited to add…He didn’t hate Lilo; it seemed like he hated the things Lilo did. Seems like a fatherly thing to do. Worry and care about your kid.
Not my dirty bath water, I reminded myself as I didn’t rush, but kept a steady pace. The asshole was following me. Stalking more like. I stopped abruptly when I got close to the entrance of the store. I turned to him, and he stopped.
I lifted a hand and ticked my fingers. “Italian, Irish, Russian, Armenian…I could go on, but you don’t seem bright enough to remember.”
“What the fuck you talkin’ about? Food?”
“You wish, Chubs. I’m talking about mafias. Take your pick. Because if you touch me, I mean something to all of them.”Bluff.Some of them found me irritating.I know, right? I can’t believe that shit either.“You’re choosing to bring this to their tables, so…think twice before you take a step closer to me.”
He took another drag from his cigarette and considered me. He flung the butt on the ground and stomped it out. He took a step closer to me, and then another, and a bead of sweat ran down my back from the sheer will it took to keep myself planted where I was.
Maybe it was dumb, not taking off for the safety of the store, but I dealt with men who were connected daily.
Who was this asshole to run me off?
Right before his body touched mine, he stopped, and I felt someone at my back. A hand came to my shoulder. “What’s going on, Peps?”
