“Let’s stay in touch,” she told him.
“Absolutely.”
“Nice meeting you, Stevie,” Ash said. He then smiled at Sara and motioned to the table where the others were now sitting. “After you.”
Inside, Stefan was seething. Stevie had been Sara’s nickname for Stefan, and she was the only one he’d ever let call him that. He had already been annoyed by how touchy the guy was with Sara, but he outright hated him now, earning Ash a prominent place on Stefan’s problems-to-deal-with list.
“Take care, Stevie,” Sara said. “If you have time before you leave town, let me know, and we can grab a coffee.”
“I’ll do that.”
He walked back to the bar, the whole time resisting the urge to sprint for the exit and get the hell out of there.
His martini glass was still on the counter. He chugged the remains and contemplated ordering another.
Before he could decide, a big man stepped in beside him and set a forearm on the bar.
Stefan shot him a quick glance of annoyance, then looked around for the bartender, having decided another martini was a great idea.
“I think maybe you’ve had enough,” the big guy said.
“Yeah?” Stefan said. “Ithink you need to mind your own business.”
The big guy leaned over and whispered in Stefan’s ear, “Mr. Gennaro says it would be a good idea for you to call it a night.”
Stefan blinked. “You work for Gennaro?”
The man looked at him as if that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard.
“Fine,” Stefan said. “Why does he care where I’m having a—” The answer hit him before he could finish the question. “Oh, shit. It’s happening tonight, isn’t it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the big man said.
Stefan grinned. “Sure, sure. I get you. I have no idea, either.” He raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention, then realized the big guy was still looking at him. “I need to pay my tab, then I’m gone.”
The big guy pushed back from the bar, said, “You have a nice night,” and walked off.
Toomey went to the restroom,where he did his business, then washed his hands and checked his hair in the mirror.
He’d been across the street from Barrington’s place when Stefan had arrived that afternoon. He’d called Gennaro and described the man to him. Gennaro said he was a punk named Stefan. Toomey asked if he should scare the guy off.
“You need to keep a low profile,” Gennaro had said. “So, don’t do anything unless you think he’s going to be a problem.”
Toomey should have intervened earlier at the restaurant, but by the time he realized that Stefan was doing a poor job of hiding his interest in Barrington and his friends, one of them recognized the guy.
That sparked another call to Gennaro.
“He’s what?”
“Talking to them.”
“Why?”
“I’m not close enough to hear. He seems to know a young woman who’s with the lawyer.”
“But not Barrington?”
“They shook hands like this was the first time they’d met.”
