All three men exchanged the kind of look that said they were about to commit a crime and feel righteous about it.
Dom moved toward the door with the calm purpose of a man who had done this before. He stepped outside, scanning the street with ease.
A long moment passed.
I stood there catching my breath, very aware that I probably looked like a disaster. Hair escaping from my bun, cheek still slightly red, grocery bags leaking what I hoped was just egg and not the ice cream too. My hands were shaking and my heart was still pounding.
Dom came back inside, his expression hovering somewhere between amused and baffled.
“There’s nobody out there, sweetheart.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Street’s empty. Just a blonde, tall guy inspecting his mailbox across the street, Mrs. Patterson walking her dog and that fat orange cat from the alley.” He paused. “The cat did look suspicious, though. Very shifty eyes.”
I stood in the middle of the tattoo shop, bags still clutched to my chest, feeling like an absolute idiot. But the fear was real. The footsteps werereal.
Weren’t they?
Marco snorted, setting down whatever weapon he’d grabbed from behind the counter. “You got spooked by Mr. Whiskers?”
“I didn’t get spooked by a cat,” I protested, but my voice lacked conviction. “There were footsteps.Humanfootsteps. Heavy ones.”
Vinnie tilted his head thoughtfully. “Mr. Whiskers is pretty heavy. He’s like twenty pounds. Vet says he needs to go on a diet.”
“A cat doesn’t sound like a grown man walking.”
“You’d be surprised,” Dom said, settling back into his chair at the poker table. “That cat sounds like a linebacker when he’s chasing a squirrel.”
I wanted to argue, but honestly? I was too tired. The adrenaline was crashing, leaving me shaky and exhausted, and I was standing in a tattoo shop at nine PM holding a bag of ruinedgroceries. This was my life now. This was the glamorous existence of a published author.
“I’ll just...” I gestured vaguely at the stairs in the back that led to my apartment. “I need to put my groceries away.”
“You need to sit down,” Dom corrected. “You’re pale as hell and you’re shaking.”
“I’m not...” I looked at my hands. They were definitely shaking. “Okay, maybe a little.”
Marco pulled out a chair at the poker table. “Sit. We’ll deal you in.”
“I don’t know how to play poker.”
“Perfect. Easy money for us.”
Vinnie was already taking my grocery bags, peering inside with concern. “Your eggs are definitely broken. Like, destroyed. There’s yolk everywhere.” He winced sympathetically. “And this ice cream is getting soft. I’ll put it in the freezer upstairs, okay? You stay calm.”
“You don’t have to...”
“Too late, already doing it.” He disappeared up the stairs with my groceries, and I was left standing there feeling oddly touched by the gesture.
I appreciated that. I really did. These men barely knew me, but they’d taken me in like a stray cat the moment I moved into the apartment upstairs. They checked on me when I worked too late,they scared off Damien when he came around drunk, they made me feel safe in a world that often didn’t.
So I ended up staying for two hours.
The poker game was a disaster. I lost approximately forty dollars in chips before they took pity on me and switched to a “teaching round” that involved a lot of cheating on my behalf. Marco kept “accidentally” showing me his cards. Vinnie would cough loudly whenever I was about to make a bad call. Dom just grunted and dealt the cards with the patience of a man who had accepted that teaching me poker was a lost cause.
“You have the worst poker face I’ve ever seen,” Marco informed me after I lost another hand. “You smile when you have good cards. Every time.”
“I do not.”
