But surprisingly, she doesn’t.
“Fine. You have until 5 PM. Do not be late,” she grumbles and spins away from me with clear reluctance.
My impromptu decision starts to feel more and more like the right one as I jump into the shower, and I nod to myself, convinced I’m doing the right thing. I should probably reach out to him first, but I don’t have a way to contact him directly. Ido, however, know where he lives and works.
My heart starts pounding as I get dressed. I haven’t seen him up close in over a year—and our last meeting was… hostile, to put it lightly. My fault entirely. I accept that.
I pull my hair into a high ponytail and shrug on my leather jacket, checking my reflection one last time.Time to face the music.
When I walk through the living room, Katie is nowhere in sight, which is a little surprising. “I’m leaving!” I call out, making my way to her room. I push the door open and find her getting dressed. “Where are you off to?”
“Out.”
One word. Katie, who usually gives her entire itinerary unsolicited, just says ‘out’. I briefly consider pressing her for details, but if I succeed, she’ll expect me to spill about Queens. And I want to keep that to myself for now. So I let it slide.
“Alright, well, have fun.” I hesitate in her doorway for a moment, then leave. That was definitely weird. But then again, everything feels weird lately.
I shake off my friend’s strange behavior as I get into the elevator, descending swiftly towards the lobby. The generic, mind-numbing elevator music has been replaced withChristmas carols, and I groan at the reminder that the darned holiday is now only a few days away.
How did time slip by so fast? It feels like yesterday I was investigating Jason Moore for the first time, and now everything’s gone to hell.
I don’t hate Christmas. I’m indifferent to it—I try to remind myself. But as the elevator hits the lobby, I still can’t get out fast enough, practically scurrying through the doors and out of the building.
Outside, it’s freezing, and tiny snowflakes are drifting down from the gray sky. My breath comes out in puffs of cloudy air, and I glare up at the weather in disgruntlement. Really? Snow?Now?
Maybe I should take this as a sign not to go through with my plan. But I can be a stubborn fucker when I set my mind to something. If anything, the snow just makes me more determined to go faster.
I pull my helmet on, straddle my bike, and turn the ignition.
The forty-minute ride to Queens is brutal. By the time I slow my bike across the street from the four-story brick building that’s my destination, my teeth are chattering and I can’t feel my fingers. But my timing is perfect, because I’m just in time to see my target walk out of the building and get into the back of one of three cars parked at the curb.
A little over half a dozen men split themselves between the remaining vehicles. After a minute, the convoy starts moving.Here we go.I rev my engine and tail them at a safe distance, keeping several cars between us to avoid landing on their radar.
We weave through the colorful streets of downtown Queens until the lead car makes a turn onto a side street. I hold back for a few seconds, then ease around the corner after them.
They have stopped in front of a small Italian restaurant, and the men are walking inside. I reverse my bike and drive a blockdown, parking in front of a theater before making my way back towards the restaurant on foot.
A faint smile crosses my lips as I read the name:Mughetto.Next to it is the pretty image of a lily of the valley—one of the four flowers that’s come to mean a lot to the Nightshades. And to me too, if I’m being completely honest, since I have a small variant of their shared tattoo design hidden on my body.
A reminder of what I used to mean to them. What I threw away…
I don’t need to be told the restaurant belongs to Maximo to know it’s his. The whole place practically radiates his particular brand. I take a deep breath and pull the door open, fully aware I’m walking straight into enemy territory with no backup and no real plan.
Every pair of eyes snaps to me the moment I step inside.
Maximo’s men leap to their feet, their hands moving instinctively to their concealed weapons. None of them look particularly surprised to see me, which means I was probably detected despite being so careful.
“Well, well, well,” Maximo drawls from his seat. “What do we have here?” He’s leaning back, completely relaxed—the only person in the restaurant still sitting down.
His words and posture are in no way welcoming, but it’s not the caustic anger I was expecting. Still, I hesitate at the threshold, suddenly unsure of my brilliant plan.
Well, too late to back out now.
Maximo waves at his men, and they reluctantly take their seats, though they keep their gazes locked on me like I might whip out a gun and start shooting at any moment. My old friend makes a show of looking behind me. “Where are the others? Don’t tell me you came all the way herealone.”
I stiffen my spine and let go of the door handle, walking deeper into the restaurant that’s filled with only Maximo andhis men, not stopping until I’m standing right in front of his table. “Are you going to invite me to sit down?”
He studies me, dark eyes cool and distant. “What are you doing here, Emily?”
