I don’t understand what’s happening, but I can’t afford to take my eyes off my opponents. The old man laughs behind me. “Eh, you never were any fun, but I suppose he’s proven himself enough.” He barks an order in Russian. The two men stand as if released from a spell and walk away like our fight had never happened.
“The fuck?” I lower my hands but keep myself alert as I look at DiAngelo for clarification.
He pats my shoulder. “Relax, kid. Grisha here doesn’t talk to just anyone. You have to prove yourself first.”
“A heads-up would have been nice,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Not how life works. You have to earn your place.”
“Trust me, I know that as much as anyone.”
“Ohh, yes,” the old man coos. “I think I like him. Come sit down and tell me what you want to know. I may not have any answers, but we can see.”
I watch warily as DiAngelo takes a seat on a large wooden spindle with rope coiled around it. Only after the two men stare expectantly at me do I relent and join them.
“I’ve heard Biba is looking for someone.”
“Is that what this is about?” Grisha says gaily. “You’re after the reward?”
Reward? Would Biba want Danika badly enough to offer a reward? Or have we miscommunicated, and he thinks I’m talking about The Reaper? That would make much more sense, especially after the triple murder.
“No, this is about a woman,” I correct him, ignoring DiAngelo’s stare boring into me.
The old man laughs. “Yes, the woman. Biba’s put out word that he’ll give a million dollars to the man who finds her.”
Fuck, this is bad.
Aside from the fact that Biba wouldn’t offer a million dollars to catch a simple pickpocket, I can almost hear DiAngelo’s teeth grinding together at my side. He’s probably dying to grill me about what I know and why I kept it a secret. He’ll have to wait.
“He say why he wants her?” I ask.
He gives me a patronizing look. “Biba does not explain himself to no one. You should know that. His business is his alone.”
Not what I wanted to hear, but at least I’m not leaving empty-handed. I nod and stand. “I appreciate your time.”
“You go as unexpectedly as you come, like a shooting star.” He peers down at my boot, where I sheathed my knife. “You’re comfortable with knives, are you?” His question is heavy with meaning, and for once, I know exactly what’s being implied.
“I’m not The Reaper, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The old man bursts out laughing. “Yes, I like him. Sometime, you come back, and we’ll have a drink.”
I give him a thin smile and make my exit, hoping to disappear while DiAngelo says his own goodbyes. No such luck. A minute later, he jogs up beside me and pulls me to a stop.
“Whoa, little brother. You’re not getting away that easily.”
“I’m not your little brother.”
“No, but you’re Renzo’s brother, and I take family seriously—mine or my friend’s.”
“Look, there’s nothing to tell. Sante’s cop friend Malone is working the murder of those three Russians. He was asking questions, which I didn’t answer, but I learned Biba was after some woman. I wanted to know the score.”
Again, his withering stare tries to break me down, but I hold firm. He has a long way to go until he reaches the status of Uncle Lazaro, our guardian in Sicily. That man’s scowl could strip paint right off the wall. He took care of us—taught us everything—and did it while being the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever met. If I can look him in the eye, I can stand tall to anyone.
DiAngelo caves, sighing heavily. “I know I don’t have to tell you, but I’m gonna do it anyway. Be careful butting your nose into Biba’s business. The man’s a lunatic.”
“You’re right. Your warning is unnecessary, but I appreciate it anyway. And thanks for the introduction. I owe you.”
We shake hands and part ways. I’m glad because I’m antsy to get back to my apartment. It’s time to make Danika give me some answers, but first, I have one more stop to make. Especially knowing what I do now, it’s past time I got a lock on that bedroom door.
