Page 6 of Shadow Of Sin

I narrow my eyes in their direction. Late thirties, big, bulky, kind of thuggy, dressed in the kind of clothes that scream money, but not taste. One of them has a thick neck and a gold chain. The other is shorter, with eyes that move around the room before the rest of him does.

Sal’s smile changes. It doesn’t disappear. He’s too good an actor for that. But it tightens. The warmth drains out of it and what’s left is fake. I’ve seen that smile before. I saw it every time he came to visit me in prison and pretended everything was fine.

“Gentlemen,” he says. “Kitchen’s not open yet.”

“We’re not here to eat, Sal.” The one with the chain leans on the bar. A chill slips down my spine. He’s too close, taking up too much space on purpose. “Just checking in.”

“Checking in,” Sal repeats, his voice easy. “Well, I appreciate the visit. I’ll have something for you by Friday. Same as always.”

The shorter one looks at me. His eyes move from my face to my hands to the exits and back. I hold his gaze and don’t blink.

“Friday,” the chain guy says. He taps the bar twice with his knuckle, like he’s stamping something. “Don’t be late this time.”

They leave. The door closes behind them and the stench of their overpowering cologne lingers in the air, making my stomach roil.

Sal picks up a glass and starts polishing it. His hands are steady, but his jaw is tight and there’s a muscle jumping near his temple that I know he doesn’t want me to see.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Nobody. Business stuff.”

“Business stuff.” I keep my voice level. “Business stuff doesn’t usually show up before sunrise and tell you not to be late.”

“It’s handled, E. Don’t worry about it.”

He gives me the look, the one that says drop it. And I want to push. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to push, because those men were not here for a friendly check-in and we both know it.

But Sal’s face says don’t. And I’ve learned the hard way that pushing people who don’t want to be pushed only drives them further into the thing you’re trying to pull them out of.

So I let it go. I finish my coffee, kiss my brother on the cheek, and walk home through streets that are just starting to wake up.

I lock my apartment door behind me.

Then I sit down at my desk and stare at the timestamp.

I’ve survived prison, Daniel, and months of Dmitri’s dirty work by keeping my head down and my mouth shut. But watching my brother fake a smile for men who scare him, I realize the truth that’s been staring me in the face.

Keeping my head down isn’t keeping Sal safe.

It’s just keeping me blind.

CHAPTER 2

WOLFE

Cillian thinks he can guard me from the left. He’s been wrong about that for three years, but he keeps trying, which I’d find kind of lovable if he weren’t currently standing between me and my next shot.

I fake right, wait for him to come after me, then cut the other way and make the jump shot. The ball drops clean through the net, and the swish it makes is one of my favorite sounds in the world, right up there with a quiet room after everyone’s gone.

“That’s eight,” I say.

“Bullshit. It’s only seven. The one off the backboard didn’t count.”

“What the hell are you talking about? The ball went in the basket. That is literally the only criteria.”

“It went in ugly,” he says with a shrug, dribbling the ball.

I push back my hair. “Show me where in the rulebook ‘ugly’ is a disqualifier and I’ll give you the point back.”