Santino blew out a breath and rocked to his feet. He reached for the pizza, closing up the box it already rested in so he could take it home. “It’s a real fucking shame what this world’s coming to, Max.”
Maxwell’s brow twitched, but again he ignored the insult and only looked up in confusion. If he noticed movement at either of the other occupied tables, he ignored it.
Santino met Maxwell’s stare, letting his expression harden. “A man can’t even go out and pick up dinner anymore without getting whacked, you know?”
Maxwell opened his mouth, the confusion in his eyes mounting.
Santino turned away from the table, boxed pizza in hand, and one of their fellow diners opened fire. He flicked his gaze to the side, where the older man who ran the eatery hid just beyond a doorway, and tipped his head. They had an understanding, and rumor was old Vin had been looking for an excuse to close up and retire. A random shooting during business hours that resulted in the death of a dining patron would go a long way.
As would the money that would land in his wallet in two days’ time.
Shame, though. Santino did enjoy the pizza.
The anniversary of her mother’s death was never a good day, but even by normal standards, the previous twenty-four hours had been particularly unfortunate.
Losing her job first thing in the morning. Having a very awkward and disconcerting encounter with the owner of that company a few short hours after. All of that, plus her annual visit to her mother’s gravesite, only to come home and discover a letter from her landlord posted to her door. Of course, it hadn’t been good news. The rent was scheduled to go up in one month’s time.
As if paying rent at all wouldn’t be a huge difficulty without a job.
It was a good reminder to clamp down on any emotional impulses or just the itch to avoid the hard and overwhelming things. So, Reiko threw her car keys into an out-of-the-way drawer and resolved to spend her day job hunting from her sofa. She had no idea how ironically uneventful that would prove to be. Though she did like the calmness.
She was able to catch up on the few apartment chores that had accumulated, had time for reading, and still scoured every available site for any possible new job. Between every distraction task she paused and spent at least half an hour searching anddebating with herself on whether or not she met the minimum qualifications to apply for whatever she found.
Did her degree fit the requirements? By a stretch, if at all.
Was her work experience relevant? Sometimes. Other times, it was likely debatable.
Were they offering to pay enough? Almost never.
Reiko sighed and set her phone down. It was possible the day had beentooquiet. Yes, she’d sent off a couple of applications, but really only a few hours had passed since. She couldn’t expect to hear anything so soon. She just hated floating in such a state of uncertainty. It made her anxious.
She blamed that anxiety for why she jumped in her seat—maybe even squeaked a little—when someone knocked on the door. Who on earth would be visiting her? She looked down at the digital display on her phone, confirming what the sharper hue of sunlight through her slanted living room blinds was saying. It wasn’t exactly late. She just wasn’t exactly popular.
Reiko snorted at herself, snatched up her phone, and stood as the knocking resumed. Whoever it was clearly wasn’t a delivery person. She really should have invested in one of those doorbell camera systems that didn’t actually require doorbells. Not that she had any specific person to be afraid of in the physical sense.
The only one who’d ever hurt her was her.
Shoving the memory aside, Reiko verified that the chain latch was intact, released the deadbolt, and pulled the door open. She made sure to position herself so she was leaning only halfway around the door, keeping her phone visible to her mysterious visitor. “Can I help—” The question died on her tongue at the most unexpected sight she could have conjured.
The very same former employer she’d met the day before, Santino Guerra, stood on her poor excuse of a front stoop. His blond hair looked like it had been recently finger-combed and he wore a lopsided grin above a pale blue button-up that shonelike silk and perfectly creased black trousers. Layered over the expensive shirt was a black, high-collared coat that hung to his knees. He was an impressive and frustratingly mouthwatering sight, to be sure.
The breath rushed from Reiko’s lungs and adrenaline shot through her. What was going on? Why wouldhebe visiting her, of all people? Her fingers tightened around her phone. She almost missed the chrysanthemum bouquet in his hands as he lifted it higher.He couldn’t know…
“Hello again, beautiful,” Guerra said. His voice was deep and smooth and carried across the small distance between them effortlessly. He held out the bouquet. “For you. A small token of apology for yesterday.”
He knew. It was the only explanation for why he hadn’t gone with roses, or at least a variety. Men always went with one of those options if they felt compelled to get flowers. Though she hadnoclue why this man was bringingherflowers.
Reiko caught her hand twitching as if to take the bouquet and locked her arms tight against her body. “I don’t understand. What sort of man stalks their ex-employees with flowers of apology? Wasn’t it cutbacks?”
His grin faded, almost becoming strained. “There were no authorized cutbacks, Reiko,” he said. “The manager in charge of your department acted without my clearance. He’s been penalized for that, and I could certainly hire you back, but I made the assumption you wouldn’t be comfortable with the environment that would result in.”
She swallowed heavily. She’d wondered about that, since she hadn’t heard a word about cuts and usually that news turned into gossipweeksbefore the axe fell. In which case, Guerra was right. Even if the man who’d targeted her was gone outright, if she simply returned to work immediately after, it would be obvious. And she’d had a hard enough time dealing with oneman who’d clearly been less than thrilled at working next to aJap. Thinking about it that way, she doubted only one of her former colleagues was behind the targeted firing.
Reiko chewed her lip briefly, her gaze unintentionally lingering on the colorful blooms still being held out to her as if he had all the patience in the world. She sighed and nodded. It was awkward to hurriedly close and unlatch the door while still holding her phone, so she tucked the device into a pocket and hoped that wasn’t a mistake. Then she opened the door.
Guerra smiled wide again as she scooped the flowers into her arms. “Have you eaten yet? I’d love to take you to dinner.”
She stared up at him, once again caught off-guard. Then, finally, she managed, “These need water.” Not exactly the best comeback. Made worse by leaving the door open, effectively inviting him to follow after her as she shuffled into her kitchen.
