Sam turned off the radio. “What?”
“Why did you ask me if I knew where I was going in the elevator?” I kept the smile of triumph from my voice as I cornered him with the question I truly wanted the answer to.
The guard sighed. He pointed to the windshield where fat drops were landing after falling free from the sky.
“McDonagh works construction.” Sam rolled his hand as if those two things made sense.
“And?” I rolled mine right back at him.
His voice was strangled. “And you’re wearing all white.”
Letting out a light laugh, I relaxed back into my seat. If that was all…. “Jeezes, you had me worried.”
Sam rolled his neck, as if there were a collar and tie suffocating him instead of a dark tee. “Yeah, well, like I said, it’s not my place.”
By the time we arrived, the rain was falling in a steady stream. My plan to dash into the building was extinguished the moment I saw the chain link fence, the portable offices, and the trucks working on site. The temptation to ask Sam if this was the right place was strong, but I bit my tongue.
“Samuele, are you escorting her to the gate?” a voice asked over the static walkie-talkie that I didn’t know was in the center console.
“Si, si,” Sam muttered.
Hugging my purse to my chest, I emerged from the vehicle before the guard had the chance to rush around with an umbrella. I strode to the gate where a surly worker in a neon vest scowled at me from under a check-in post.
“I’m here to see Mr. McDonagh,” I clipped out.
The woman scrunched her puffy cheeks and tapped on a tablet. “Name?”
“Amanda Messina.” A small thrill shot down my spine that had nothing to do with the rain pelting my shoulders.
“I don’t see an Amanda,” she muttered.
“Noel?” I offered, using the alias that once had been my cover so no whispers about me being in the underworld drifted to my father.
“Yeah, that’s you.” She held up her hand. “You’re going to need one of these.”
She thrust a yellow hard hat at me, not bothering to wipe off the dirt from the outside. I gingerly took it, ignoring Sam’s gaze. He was no doubt laughing on the inside at me for wearing all white.
“He’s not on my list,” the woman barked, jerking a thumb at Sam.
“Because I’ll be takin over from here,” a smooth tenor offered, and a giant of a man stepped around the opposite side of the gate booth. “The name’s Connor.”
“Pleased to meet you.” I gave him a nod, not wanting to get close to the man in the crisp suit with tattoos playing peek-a-boo over the collar. His energy screamed underworld, and if he was my escort, he no doubt worked closely with Liam.
“Let’s go. Boss is already in a kettle o’hot water this morning,” Connor drawled, sweeping his arm toward the fence.
I gave Sam a small wave that he didn’t return. He was no doubt glad to get rid of me for the day. It was a strange rush of excitement to venture into the construction site. Vincenzo must really trust Liam if he knew his goons wouldn’t be babysitting me all day.
He must trust me.
I felt more free, more alive than I had in a long time. The anticipation for a new job, for a grand adventure, gave me a spring in my step. Or would have, if I wasn’t too busy picking my way carefully over the temporary walkway that was just a bunch of planks strewn over the ground. The spike of my stilettos threatened to catch with each step, and I focused on not face-planting in the growing pools of muddy water on my first day.
Around me, equipment clanged. Diesel exhaust plumed in the air, lending a certain vigor to the atmosphere. From all directions, men shouted to be heard above the noise of beeps, buzzes, and incessant hammering. It was a brutal, barbaric symphony, and I enjoyed the rush of energy. This place felt alive. More so than any office I’d ever worked in.
“Liam’s in here.” Connor jogged up three metal steps and pulled open a door to one of the portables.
Angry voices rang out from inside.
I stepped past a fragile, crusty-looking secretary and followed my guide to the inner office. The man behind the desk snapped his gaze to mine. The blood in my veins stopped moving, frozen by the energy radiating from him. It wasn’t a full mask; it wasn’tmymasked stalker. The half mask was reminiscent of something from the Phantom of the Opera, covering his eyes and the right side of his face. I stifled a shudder because even though the mask was comical in broad daylight, there was something terrifying about the man.
