“I do,” he responded simply. He wasn’t sure how much Luciano knew about his work for Joel, and as much as he respected the man in front of him, his loyalty was to the man who’d taken a chance on him although he’d done nothing to earn one. “I like to keep busy.”
Luciano tapped his temple. “That’s good. It’s smart.”
An awkward silence filled the room, and Jordan resisted the urge to check his watch. If this had been any other day, he might have invited Luciano to sit down, offered him a drink, asked him a few questions. As it stood, he was already short on time, distracted and on edge because the knot in his stomach hadn’t subsided, even after his bout at the gym.
“Sir, is there?—”
Luciano waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “No sir, I don’t likesir. Too fancy.” He cracked a smile. “Call me Luciano.”
Jordan nodded. “Okay, Luciano. What can I do for you?”
Luciano drew in a deep breath, his chest puffing up, then exhaled slowly. “Vanessa. She’s always been smart. When she was young, she would come to the shop with me sometimes.” He moved to a cabinet as he spoke, then ran his fingers along it as if assessing its quality. “Luciana would come too. I would show Luciana how to do something, andshe would do it over and over until it was perfect. She’s a diligent worker.”
He knocked lightly on the cabinet, rattling the photos that stood atop it. “Flimsy,” he murmured under his breath. “I’ll make them a good one.”
Jordan watched him and waited. He wanted to hear the rest of this memory of Vanessa and her sister.
“But Vanessa—” He held up his index finger. “I would show her once, and she would do it perfectly the first time. She’s always been a quick learner.” He tapped his temple again. “My Vanessa, she can see immediately how something needs to be done, and she does it. That’s why tonight is going to be a huge success.”
The older man beamed with pride, and it hit Jordan with a wave of his own memories. The look on Luciano’s face was so similar to the one on his dad’s face when he achieved something significant, like another martial-arts belt, or a three-pointer in the basketball game.
His heart clenched thinking about the person he’d become after his dad passed. A person his dad would have never been proud of. A part of him was relieved that he hadn’t lived long enough to see what his son had become. A capo for one of Chicago’s most notorious street gangs. One that never missed a shot. One that had been feared even by the men on the inside.
He had nothing to be proud of, and no chance now to make it right. It was too late.
“I know she’s in trouble.” Luciano jutted out his chin. “She doesn’t like to tell us these things, but Luciana fills us in. We worry, Maria and I, because—” He rubbed an eyebrow. “Vanessa’s been hurt before, and she knows we worry.” He cleared his throat trying to cover how his voicecracked over the last couple of words, but Jordan heard it all the same.
A few seconds later, Luciano met Jordan’s gaze. “Luciana told us about you. That you keep an eye on Vanessa.” He shrugged. “When I know she’s with you, I don’t worry.”
Those weren’t the words Jordan had expected to hear. Emotion surged through him. Between thoughts of his dad and the look of utter trust in Luciano’s expression, he was raw. Exposed. Vulnerable.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Luciano gave Jordan’s shoulder a firm pat as he passed him, opening the door and letting himself out. “Sei un buon uomo,” he murmured over his shoulder and then was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Half an hour before she had to leave for The Link, Vanessa was sitting in front of the vanity in her bedroom, applying her lip liner. Her mother and aunt had made polenta with pork sausage and mushroom sauce, which was one of her favorites, but she’d been too nervous to eat more than a few bites.
Tonight had to be perfect. No room for error. The event had to unfold exactly as she’d planned. A brilliant success. A reflection of her and a fresh start for The Link.
The bedroom door whooshed open, and Maria stepped through.
Vanessa met her gaze in the mirror. “Never learned to knock, Mom?” She deadpanned, knowing full well what the answer would be.
“Why should I have to knock on my own daughter’s door? Do you have something to hide?” Maria looked around the room, as if all of Vanessa’s secrets would be hanging on the wall next to the Vettriano painting above her bed.
Vanessa rolled her eyes before her mother could see,then went back to applying her lip liner. “You never know,” she said, her voice muffled as she rolled her lips inward. “I could’ve been naked in here.” She popped her lips out, surveying her handiwork.
Her mom huffed out a breath. “And it wouldn’t have been anything I haven’t seen before.” She wagged her finger. “Never forget who changed your diapers, Vanessa.”
Maria stepped up behind her, her sharp gaze assessing. In the reflection, Vanessa was reminded of how much she resembled her mother.
Maria’s wide, almond-shaped eyes were the same deep brown as Vanessa’s. Her coffee-colored hair was lightly threaded with silvery strands, and her warm-toned skin showed only faint lines of age.
Her mother had always taken pride in her looks. She was the one who’d taught Vanessa the value of good skincare products. Maria had passed down the olive-oil hack, the sunscreen reminder (rain or shine), and the rule to never skip the neck.
As a girl, Vanessa had spent hours rummaging through her mother’s cosmetics case. Back then, her mother had been the most beautiful woman in the world to her. Even now, noting their similarities in the mirror, she was grateful for the genes, if little else, they shared.
Slowly, she began removing one of the rollers from her hair. “You didn’t have to come all this way.”
