Nico crossed toward the service door.
I followed.
He reached for the knob.
I locked my fingers around the receipts and stepped into the alley before Nico could close the door.
Chapter Six
Uncle Sal’s black town car idled where Bite Me’s delivery trucks usually parked, engine ticking into the service-alley heat like it had paid rent there.
The bar was locked behind me. The boardwalk music bled over the roofline. The ocean moved somewhere beyond the buildings, close enough for me to feel dark water pulling under the boardwalk and every threat standing on dry ground.
Uncle Sal leaned against the back fender in a pale linen shirt with the sleeves buttoned, because some men treated comfort like a weakness. He’d taught me young that sharks didn’t need to bare teeth when everybody already knew they had them.
Nella stepped out before I could shut the service door.
I should’ve known she would.
She had the receipt folder under one arm, the deposit bag looped around her wrist, and her keys clenched in her other hand. That lime-green scarf was still twisted into her dark hair like she was headed back behind the bar instead of into a family problem with an idling engine. Her turquoise wrap top was smudged with blue curaçao near the hem. Her sandals slapped the concrete once before she planted herself beside me.
I shifted in front of her.
She jabbed two fingers into my ribs without looking away from Sal. “Don’t you dare make me climb around you in my own alley.”
“This isn’t your part,” I said.
Nella gave one short laugh and lifted her chin. “Those are my receipts, this is my bar, and that makes it my part.”
Sal’s gaze moved from me to her, slow and cold.
“Antonella DeLuca,” he said. “You’ve had a busy night.”
“She’s had a profitable one,” I said.
Nella lifted the receipt folder. “And documented. I know that ruins the vibe.”
The corner of Sal’s mouth shifted, but it wasn’t a smile. My uncle didn’t waste smiles in alleys unless somebody was about to lose something.
He looked at me. “You were supposed to come alone.”
“She has a problem with instructions from men who don’t own the ground they’re standing on,” I said.
Nella glanced up at me. “I’m actually fine with instructions. I just prefer them attached to payroll.”
Sal straightened from the car.
The alley seemed to narrow around him. Hot pavement, dumpster metal, and the ocean beyond the buildings pressed into one tight line. Every shark in my family knew how to make stillness feel like water going deep around your ankles.
Nella didn’t step back.
That was why I’d been in trouble from the beginning.
Sal folded his hands in front of him. His watch flashed once under the alley light. “The packet wasn’t sent.”
“No,” I said.
“You refused to certify default.”
