I suck in a sharp breath and make myself look up from the crib and into her warm hazel eyes.
“I’ll be back by eight in the morning at the latest.”
“I’ll be here all day, honey. No rush.”
I nod, but there’s still no fucking way I’ll be even a minute late. My body betrays me and I bend over to kiss Maggie’s forehead just one more time, and dammit, I don’t regret it.
I need to do this.
“Enjoy your date,” Mrs. Murphy says before closing the door to her apartment, and the twinkle in her eyes tells me I did a fan-fucking-tastic job selling this “date” ruse.
It’s notnota date. I do have a plan, so when I walk out of our apartment building, I tell myself to follow that to a T and not deviate in the slightest.
There are three main locations wherehehas asked me to keep a lookout. Logic suggests he went to one of them and got into trouble. That’s what I’m telling myself at least, because it’s the only semi-solid lead I have.
If I’m stretching it with the word logic, well... no one but me will ever know.
The first warehouse I visit looks empty and deserted. There’s not a single sound and no light coming through any of the windows or doors, so I move on to the second location.
It’s a travel agency, but that’s obviously a front. Travel agencies are going out of business, and the only ones left are the really pricey ones that no one in Jersey would use.
Okay, no one in this neighborhood anyway. There are some upper-class communities of course, but still, it’s doubtful this is an honest business. It takes me a precious hour to find a roof I can access where I can still see the back entrance to the travel agency as well as hear what the people in the alley are saying.
If there’s even a whisper of something slightly suspicious, then I’ll have something to go on, and I’ll finally be able to go back home.
Another hour passes with no movement from the back, but when two guys in cheap black suits walk out, I know I need to catch every word out of their mouths.
“It’s not that simple,” Goon One says to Goon Two as he offers him a pack of cigarettes then lights one for himself. “You know how the boss is. The second shit is too quiet for a week, he gets paranoid.”
Okay, that’s annoyingly general. They could be talking about any type of boss, even an actual travel agency boss. I lean in, just a little bit further over the edge.
“I know, and we know thatstronzois always planning something to fuck with us.”
Jackpot.
That’s definitely Italian, and these two are so incredibly stereotypical, I bet they’re both named Tony.
“Yeah, and he’s done shit-all in three weeks. Maybe he finally did us a favor and died.”
Theyhaveto be talking abouthim.They just have to.
The timeline alignment is too perfect—three weeks, and it’s been just over a month since my lastjob.
“That’s why the boss is paranoid,” Goon Two says, and gestures with his hand like he has all the wisdom in the universe. “He’s got a right to be.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Goon One nods, then throws his cigarette butt on the ground and twists his foot over it. “Let’s go,” he grumbles and nods back to the main road.
I debate it for only one second, but then... fuck, I need to know where they’re going.
I don’t have a car, but thankfully, they don’t get in one either.
After making my way down the fire escape and running to the main road, I find them only about one block away, so I do what I promised I wouldn’t and follow them from a good distance.
I think it’s safe to say that my theory on the mystery hitman is as confirmed as it can be without talking to him.
He definitely doesn’t work for the Italians, so he’s Irish, and for some reason, he’s been quiet.
The uneasy knot in my stomach is all I need for resolve to strengthen my spine.
