“I have to meet someone. Do you want me to take you home?” I stand, gathering my things.
“No, Salvatore’s waiting to hear from me.”
“Okay. I’ll come see you soon.”
“Lindsay-soon means never.”
“Real soon.” I lean down and kiss her cheek, then look pointedly at her stomach. “Both of you.”
“You’d better. Or I’m revoking your offer to be godmother,” she threatens.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You love me too much.”
She laughs and waves me off.
I push through the café door into the cool evening air, smiling to myself. That’s one thing about Valentina; she always makes my days better. I couldn’t ask for a better friend, although her marriage has complicated my life in ways I find hard to navigate. Especially having to deal with the brothers of her husband, the mafia Don. Matteo, in particular.
I roll my shoulders, check the address in my phone, and turn toward the alley.
Ice works its way up my veins as I take in the dark alleyway in front of me.
For a couple of seconds, I stand beside my car, watching, waiting. The streets are filthy and filled with grime, empty in a way that makes me even more sure that I shouldn’t be here. I fight a shiver when I spot a huge rat scurrying past along the side of a building.
“Definitely not in my neighborhood anymore,” I mutter to myself.
I look down at the YSL shoes on my feet, thankful there’s no one else around. I look so out of place here, I might as well have a bright red sign on my head, the words “rob me” flashing across it.
Usually, I’d dress more covertly for a visit to this side of town. But I got this text thirty minutes ago. And considering how rare it is to get a hold of this particular person, I figured it was a good idea to come straight here.
I finally press the button to lock my car before taking a step away and right into the alleyway in front of me. The smell that hits my nose is putrid and I briefly wonder if there’s a rotting corpse lying somewhere within there. In this neighborhood, it’s not out of the question.
In the back of my head, I can hear my best friend’s admonishing tone asking me why I would take a risk and put myself in danger like this.
Which is a little ironic considering she’s the reason I’m here.
A flashlight beams against my face, and I follow it toward a corner. Standing there is a man slightly obscured in shadow. Short scruffy beard, ratty jeans and a T-shirt, dark brown hair. There’s fear in his expression, and he’s always looking over his shoulder. Hence our meeting spots in dingy, sketchy places. I’m pretty sure he’s running or at least hiding from someone.
He only gave me a first name. Chase. I’m almost certain it’s not his real name. He’s in his early to mid-twenties, slightly younger than me. I’ve tried to help him several times, but he always turns me down and assures me that he’s not in any danger. Not that I believe that.
Someone slipped me his contact information a while ago and told me he could provide me with information that I desperately needed. Since then, he and I have had about four or five meetings. Each time he calls me, I show up and he does provide helpful information.
Except for the last time.
“You’re late.” He frowns at my approach.
My eyes narrow, unamused, “You texted me thirty minutes ago.”
“You’ve been blowing up my phone for weeks.”
“Yes, because the information you gave me almost sent my best friend to the grave.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I already told you. Someone fed me that shit. I had no idea what she would be walking into.”
“Why should I believe anything else you have to tell me?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
