Page 18 of Shadow Of Sin

Dmitri texts at midnight because men who control your life never respect your sleep schedule.

Like I could sleep anyway.

The message is short—a location, a time, and a company name I’ve never heard of. No context. No explanation. That’s how it always works with him. He feeds me just enough information to do the job, never enough to understand why.

I stare at the text for a minute, then put my phone on the nightstand next to the knife.

Tomorrow I’ll do a job for the man who owns my brother’s debt. And then I’ll bring every piece of it to the stranger who lives above the dry cleaner.

My life has taken a real interesting turn.

I meet Dmitri at ten in the morning at a café in Back Bay. It’s the kind of place that serves twelve-dollar lattes and puts foam art on top, which tells you everything about the man’s taste and nothing about his black soul.

I do a quick scan of the room before I sit down. There are two possible exits…the front door and a hallway past the restrooms that probably leads to a kitchen. The corner table is occupied. Four other customers are in the café, none of them looking at me.

You never know where a threat might be lurking.

My need to scout a room is a prison habit. It’ll never go away, and honestly, I don’t want it to.

He’s already there, dressed in an expensive coat that fits him like it was custom-made, which it probably was. He’s got a coffee in front of him that he hasn’t touched judging by the foam. He never touches it. The coffee is just a prop, part of the performance of being a normal man in a normal café instead of someone who could have my brother killed with a phone call.

“Eva.” He gestures to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

I sit. A waiter appears and I order a black coffee.

“How are you?” he asks, like we’re old friends catching up.

“Fine. What’s the job?”

He smiles. He always smiles when I skip the small talk, like he finds my rudeness charming. That makes my skin crawl.

“A company called Meridian Capital Partners. It’s a mid-size investment firm. I need their client list, internal communications for the last six months, and any files related to real estate holdings in the Boston metro area.”

“That’s a lot of data.”

“You have until Friday.”

“I’ll have it later today.”

The smile widens slightly. “That’s why I like working with you, Eva. You don’t waste my time.”

I don’t waste your time because the faster I finish, the faster I can stop being in the same room as you.

But I keep that behind my teeth.

“Anything else?” I ask.

“Just one thing.” He picks up his coffee and takes a sip. “How’s Sal?”

The air leaves my lungs. He asks about Sal the same way every time, like we’re discussing a mutual friend. And every time, I feel the leash around my neck tighten.

“He’s fine,” I say, balling my fingers into tight fists in my lap.

“Good. The restaurant is doing well?”

“It’s doing fine.”

“I’m glad.” He sets the coffee down. “Family is important. Don’t you think?”