I laughed and shook my head. "No clue. I've been out of town for so long and stuck just working since I got back. I took you to the one tourist place I know of. Unless you like baseball? The Mariners always have tickets for sale, and I think they're in town right now."
"No, thank you," Luisa replied. “Not too much into sports unless it’s soccer." She thought, then brightened again. “Why don’t you just take me with you for your pickups? I don’t need to go to some tourist location. I just want to get out of the house."
I blinked, surprised. "Seriously? I don’t know . . .”
Cocking an eyebrow and quirking her mouth, she gave me a sarcastic half-smile. “Why not? What are you doing tonight—making a hit on someone?"
Her sarcastic question let me chuckle, and I shook my head. "No, just picking up payments. I've got four places to go to tonight, maybe more if the cops are off my ass. Tell you what. I’ll see what Pietro says."
Luisa gave me a cryptic smile and nodded. "What time?"
“After dinner? Eight or so.”
"It's a date," Luisa said musically, reaching for the remote.
"It's not a date,” I said, getting up and walking out. "It's work.”
"It's a date!" she yelled back, laughing. It was weird how she could go from bitchy to sweet in about 2.1 seconds.
I was sitting in the casual dining room, looking at my plate of broccoli and chicken I’d prepared when I heard high heels on the tile. "Looks delicious."
I looked up and nearly fell out of my chair seeing Luisa standing there. She looked stunning—I'd never seen a woman look so sexy in such a conservative set of clothing. She skipped the skirt for slacks that seemed to accentuate just how long her legs were, and the jacket was pinched at her waist, hugging her torso. She'd put on a men's style dress shirt and tie instead of a blouse, but the way the silk and cotton bulged out over her breasts made her look even sexier than if she'd worn a plunging neckline. "Holy . . . well, you look dressed for work all right."
My reaction wasn't what she was looking for, and she frowned, crossing her arms under her breasts. I wasn't sure if it was intentional, but it made her already curvy chest stick out even more, to the point that I had to try to keep my attention on her face. "If you’re finished with dinner, I’m ready."
"Just a few minutes," I said, trying to recover my cool. "Pull up a seat. I was just getting my grub on."
"I noticed," Luisa replied. “Don’t worry, I ate earlier."
She sat down in the chair across from me, stretching out her legs. I rushed my way through my dinner, choking down my food just to give myself a reason to not stare at her, and put my dishes in the sink. "Come on, let's go."
Luisa smirked as she got up, and I knew she'd been trying to distract me while I ate. Saving my comments about that for myself, I got in my car and started up the engine. "Just to warn you, I’m carrying today," I said, opening my suit coat to show her my Beretta. "Part of the job."
“Is that supposed to scare me? In fact, can I have one too?" she asked, taunting me. “How about something with some real kick to it?"
I gave her a look. “No.” I started up the engine and left for my first stop, a dry cleaner that had accepted a loan from my father ten years ago, and in return, Dad was a twenty-five percent silent owner in the business. My cash pickup was actually Dad's monthly share of the profits.
"Good evening Mr. Bertoli!" the owner greeted us with a smile as I came in with Luisa. "My, my, you have a partner tonight. And who’s the lovely lady?"
"Luisa Mendosa," Luisa introduced herself, smiling. "It's a pleasure, but I'm not Tomasso's partner. I’m just a guest tonight."
The man nodded and shrugged. Turning, he picked four hangers off the rotating rack and laid them over the counter before getting a totally normal bank deposit bag. "Here you are, Mr. Bertoli. Two suits for you, two for your father, and the deposit for this week. Do you need anything else?"
“That’s all," I said, shaking his offered hand. "I might have some suits to drop off next week though.
"Of course, Mr. Bertoli. It's always a pleasure doing the dry cleaning for your family.
“As always, thanks,” I said, waving. "Take care."
"Until next time, Mr. Bertoli."
In the car, I saw Luisa looking over at me, an amused look on her face. "What?"
"You're a nice guy, that's all," Luisa said with a chuckle. "I thought it was just an act the other day—for my benefit. You act like an asshole often enough that it’s refreshing to see."
I returned her look evenly. “Don’t go saying that too much. You’ll ruin my reputation. But yes, I’m a nice guy, and I'm an asshole. Nice guys don’t make good wise-guys.” I sighed. “You might not like the next stop.”
"Why? Is it filled with assholes?"
I chuckled and shrugged. "You could say that. It's the Starlight Club, a strip joint we're part owners of. There should be a decent crowd tonight, so if you want to avoid the offense to your delicate nature, you might want to stay in the car."