His eyes narrowed as he looked down.
“Don’t make me do my job today. I’m off the clock.” I smirked. “Then again, overtime pays—”
He held up his hands. Luckily, the Starbucks’ customers weren’t paying attention. “Sorry.”
“For?”
“My insult.”
“Do it again…” I took three steps toward him until we were chest to chest. “…And I’ll rip your throat out and put a mirror in front of your face so you can watch.”
He nodded.
“Like I said, I’ll find you either way, now run along. I’ve gotta get ready for church.” I slapped his face twice, dismissing him. With a glare that was probably supposed to intimidate, he turned on his heel and hurried out of the Starbucks, while I made a beeline for my hotel. Mass was in an hour, and I still smelled like Val.
And Andi.
But her scent, Val’s scent, was something… softer.
At first it had seemed the same.
Now it was separating.
It could be the actual perfume was different, or that the same scent was unique on each person.
Either way, it was another reminder.
“I’m not her,” she’d said.
No. She wasn’t. But maybe… that was good.
I’d been given the exact opposite of Andi, meaning, I couldn’t compare them, because they were nothing alike.
I turned around again to make sure dip shit wasn’t following me and took the long way to the hotel only leaving myself a half hour to shower and get changed.
I’d only barely stepped out of the shower when my phone buzzed.
Chase: The Eagle has landed.
Sergio: You’re an idiot.
Chase: Where the hell is that damn middle finger emoji? Whatever, I’m middle finger emojing you right now.
Sergio: Repeat what you just typed. Out loud.
Chase: Still doing it.
Sergio: See you guys at the house?
Chase: Hell no, see you at church!
Well, either we were going to all burn in hell — or God would be forgiving. One could only hope it would be the latter.
Moon take thy flight, now die, die, die. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
“HE’S NOT HERE yet,” Dante said in a bored voice as the priest raised his hands above his head.
I scowled and stood with the rest of my family. “Glory to God in the highest…” I moved my lips, but I wasn’t singing, I was too busy wondering where Sergio and Frank were. Regardless of what Dante thought, it wasn’t because I liked Sergio.
At least not fully.
It was more the idea that he could be in danger.
Or dead.
My stomach dropped.
Was that my future? Whenever he was late, I’d wonder if he was bleeding out in an alleyway?
Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and sat with the rest of the congregation.
The priest pressed his hands in front of his chest and opened his mouth, but no words came out.
A sudden tense chill filled the air as the door to the cathedral opened and then shut with a loud clang.
The priest’s eyes were riveted on the doors.
The low buzz of whispering filled the air and then footsteps, several of them, loud, purposeful. Slowly, heads began to turn, mine included.
“Holy shit,” Dante breathed.
Sal elbowed him in the ribs.
My mouth dropped open.
My mind shrieked.
Danger, danger!
Run!
Words I should listen to.
But I didn’t.
The first man looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He was wearing a black suit, expensive. Aviators covered his eyes, and his brown hair had shots of red in it, he was also as big as a giant.
On his right and left were two guys that matched him in muscle, not in height. One had a lip ring and wore a T-shirt, as if he couldn’t care less that he was in church. Tattooed sleeves lined both arms, at least he was in dark skinny jeans and boots, but there was clearly a gun in his right hand.
Both of the guys who flanked the giant were so attractive that I couldn’t stop staring. Even the one with the tattoos was captivating.
The one on the right had longer dark hair that was combed to the side, nearly touching his other ear. His gun was at least tucked into his jeans, though, I got the distinct impression it wouldn’t take him long to have it out and lethal.
Three.
Three men.
And another right behind them.
A man who looked haunted, his eyes bloodshot but clear, as if he could see right through you, see all of your fears and make them happen with a simple snap of his fingers. He didn’t have as many tattoos, and he wasn’t packing — at least that I could see. But his face, there was something about his face that told me he had nothing against breaking someone in half for looking at him wrong.
He scared me.
More than the others.
Yet he was the only one that made eye contact with the congregation, as if searching for someone, and then, when he locked eyes with me…
He smiled.
It transformed his entire face.
I gasped.
“Friend of yours?” Dante said under his breath.
“I highly doubt that man has many friends.”