Her face brightened. “I run a weekly coding class for girls age nine to thirteen, and then one right after it for teenagers. I want to teach girls to become passionate builders—not just consumers—of technology. It’s becoming a basic skill, but girls aren’t getting involved. They need female role models, and unfortunately there aren’t many around.” She told him about the class as they inched along the fifteen. She was passionate about encouraging girls to get involved with computers and shifting the balance of a world that was dominated by men.
He was drawn to her energy, her enthusiasm, her passion for helping girls succeed, and her desire to change the world, one line of code at a time. Nico had never felt that kind of passion, except in his desire to avenge his father. He wouldn’t trade the Mafia life for anything, but he was damn sure his eyes didn’t light up when he talked about busting out Lennie Minudo so he could take over the Il Tavolino restaurant or greasing a few palms with the unions to ensure the companies he controlled won the bids for the construction of new casinos. He was the darkness to her light, dismantling the world, one racket at a time.
After dropping her off, he sat in his vehicle waiting for Frankie. How was she going to get home? Although there were a few families around the community center, it wasn’t the kind of place a woman should be walking around alone. He’d already seen a few members of a small-time street gang, a drug dealer he had run out of his territory a few years back, and an assortment of underworld characters that would only stand out to someone who ran in the same circles. And what about her car? His lips tugged in a smile when he recalled her vintage Mustang. If he didn’t have to make a show of status, he would be riding in a vintage vehicle, too. Not a Mustang, but something luxurious and comfortable with a dollop of exclusivity and style—maybe Dean Martin’s Facel Vega HK500 with the V8 engine, or the Dual-Ghia that Dean Martin loved. Or, if he wanted something closer to home, Sinatra’s T-Bird.
He made a quick call to a mechanic who owed him a favor. Told him he had two hours to pick up Mia’s vehicle and get it fixed and over to the community center, making it clear failure wasn’t an option. A few years ago, the guy had come to him asking for help because another garage had opened down the road and he’d lost all his business. Nico had sent a couple of wiseguys down to pay the new garage owner a visit, explained to him there wasn’t room for another garage in the neighborhood. Maybe he’d like to relocate. The guy showed a bit of attitude, told Nico’s boys to piss off. His garage burned down the next day. Electrical malfunction. The mechanic understood he’d sold his soul to the devil, and Nico had just called to collect.
He spotted Frankie walking up to the vehicle and lowered the window.
“With all due respect…”
“Don’t.” Nico held up his hand. “You’re about to say something disrespectful, and right now I’m not in a mood to bounce you down the street. I am well aware of the risks.”
He looked up; saw Mia through the window with a cluster of little girls around her. Every time she turned around, another one was clinging to her clothes. He wouldn’t have pegged her as a nurturing type, but they obviously adored her. But then, what was not to like?
When Frankie made it clear he wasn’t going to leave, Nico left his vehicle and they grabbed a couple of espressos from a small café around the corner. Just as he was about to call the mechanic and remind him about the meaning of keeping his word, he saw a flash of red and the familiar lines of Mia’s car coming down the street. He and Frankie reached the curb just as the vehicle pulled up beside them.
“Car is a piece of shit.” The mechanic handed Nico a set of keys. “I can’t believe it’s still working. I did my best with it, fixed the engine problem and tried to make it as safe as I could, but to be honest, it’s not going to last.”
Nico tucked the keys into his pocket. “Grazie.”
“No problem.” The mechanic hesitated, and Nico knew he wanted to ask if they were even. But when the mob did you the favor of putting a competitor out of business, the debt would never be repaid. “Guess I’d better go. One of my guys is coming to pick me up.”
“Did someone spill the Holy Water on your fucking head in church?” Frankie shook his head as the mechanic walked away. “You a good Samaritan now? Nonna Maria’s gonna have a heart attack.”
“For a guy who doesn’t talk much, you can’t seem to shut the fuck up today.” Nico left Frankie’s side when he saw Mia emerge from the building. “Gimme a minute.”
“What are you still doing here?” Mia’s brow creased in a frown when he stopped in front of her.
Nico gestured to her car. “A friend owed me a favor. He fixed the engine. Tuned up a few other things.”
He waited impatiently for her reaction, tried to discern what she was thinking from the puzzled expression on her face. Usually he didn’t care what people thought about his actions, but he cared about this. For some reason he didn’t understand, he wanted to please her.
“Why?”
“You needed your car,” he said simply.
Far from reassuring her, his words seemed to cause her concern. “But you hardly know me, Nico.” Her voice rose in pitch. “And I can’t pay for it.”
“It was a small thing, bella. A favor between friends.” His heart thudded in the silence, a pounding only he could hear.
“Are we friends?” She tilted her head to the side, studied him.