She waited. The car passed. Then she crossed.
I parked down the street, engine off, windows cracked. The scent of rain and city exhaust filled the cab. It was time to leave. I had my answer about the girl. As predicted, her routine was boring.There were no cops. No suspicious phone calls. Just a blind woman living her life with more competence than half the seeing people I knew.
But still, I stayed, waiting to see a light come on that would let me know which apartment was hers.
No lights came on. But in the reflection from the streetlight I saw her silhouette move across an uncovered window on the second floor. I guess there was no sense turning on lights when your world was nothing but darkness.
I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. This wasn't my normal kind of gig. I was a ghost. In, out, gone before the dust settled. I didn't do lingering. Lingering was for amateurs and people looking to get caught.
"Go home, Milo," I muttered. "Job's done."
But I didn't reach for the ignition. I couldn't.
My gaze drifted back to that second-floor window. There was no flicker of a TV, no warm glow of a lamp. Just absolute darkness. Most people couldn't handle that kind of void. They needed light to make them feel safe from the monsters in the dark. Raven? She lived in it, moving through a world that would terrify anyone else with a haunting kind of grace.
I shifted, the leather creaking under my weight.
Why the hell was I still sitting here?
It wasn't just that she was blind. It was the way she'd gone so completely still in the alley that night. That was the stillness of a predator, not prey.
I’d seen made men with less composure than this girl in a velvet dress.
I shoved the thought away, rubbing a hand over the scruff on my jaw.
Professional curiosity,I told myself.That's all this is.
But I knew a lie when I told one.
I watched the dark window, waiting to see her again and knowing I probably wouldn't.
And yet, I stayed.
Day three,I followed her inside.
I hadn't slept more than two hours at a stretch since the night I first saw her.
The Silver Table was packed with the Friday night crowd. High rollers, politicians with their mistresses, and mobsters pretending to be businessmen. I wore a charcoal suit and blended into the shadows near the service alcove—my favorite spot. Close enough to the kitchen to intercept Viktor if he got antsy, close enough to the back door if I needed to make a quick escape, and close enough to the floor to watch the show.
Raven sat at the grand piano on the raised dais. Tonight, she wore black velvet. Simple and elegant. The dress hugged her figure, outlining the curve of her waist, the slope of her shoulders, but left her collarbone and throat bare and exposed.
Something tightened behind my sternum.
A waiter bumped my arm. "Excuse me, sir."
I didn't blink, didn't look at him.
On stage, Raven finished a set. Applause rippled through the room. Polite and dismissive. She didn't acknowledge it as her hands rested on her lap, fingers twitching slightly.
Movement to her left caught my eye as the floor manager approached. Geoffrey was a greasy little weasel who thought wearing a tuxedo made him royalty.
Geoffrey.I huffed out a disdainful breath through my nose. Even his name sounded like a sneeze.
Shifting, I pressed my shoulder into the wall and watched him as he leaned over the piano, laying a hand on Raven's shoulder.
My vision narrowed. The periphery of the room went black.
"Don't do that," I sing-song whispered. But I couldn't do anything without giving away my presence to the woman I was stalking.
