Page 97 of Shadow Of Sin

That’s not the man I was before Eva.

And I’m starting to think he’s not coming back.

CHAPTER 23

EVA

I walk into Rosario’s with a fake smile and the sinking feeling that this is the last normal visit I’ll ever have here again.

Sal nearly knocks me over when I walk into the restaurant.

He comes around the bar at full speed and wraps me in a hug so tight, I’m airborne for a long second. I breathe him in, his scent that familiar mix of garlic, freshly baked bread, and Drakkar Noir, the cologne he’s been wearing since high school that I keep telling him to retire but he won’t because he says it’s a classic.

“Jesus, E. It’s been almost a week,” he says. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Work’s been crazy. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to make it in.”

“You need a job that doesn’t have you working through every meal. How am I supposed to make sure you’re eating?” He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, studying my face the way he has since the night I was arrested. Now he’s always on the lookout for any indication of things I may be keeping from him, which is basically everything.

“You look different,” he says, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Different how?” I try to play it off but dammit, he knows me too well.

“I don’t know. Lighter, maybe. More relaxed. It’s nice to see. But…”

My heart stutters. “But what?”

“There are circles under your eyes. You’re not sleeping enough.”

Fucking cheap ass concealer. “I’ve had some late nights but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He nods, trying to decide whether or not to believe me. “You look a little pale. Are you eating enough?”

I let out a sigh. “Yes, Sal. I’m eating.”

“You always say that, but eating enough doesn’t mean fueling yourself on coffee and protein bars.”

I give his arm a squeeze. “I’ve been eating real food. I promise.”

He narrows his eyes at Wolfe. “You feeding my sister?”

“When she lets me,” Wolfe says.

Sal grins so wide, the brightness could quite easily power the restaurant. He is totally marrying us off in his mind.

I swear sometimes he’s just like a little old Italian grandma.

“I’m glad you’re back, E,” he says. “This place isn’t the same without you.”

“I was gone for six days.”

“Like I said. It just wasn’t the same.” He winks at me and pushes me to the bar. “Sit. I’m making you something special. And don’t give me that ‘I’m not hungry’ bullshit because I can see your collarbone from here.”

I slant a look at Wolfe. I told Sal last week that I had a freelance gig out of town for a client project. He doesn’t really understand what I do besides the fact that I sit in front of a computer, and he doesn’t dig for details, which makes lying to him painfully easy.

Today I’m “just back” from the trip and came straight to see him. As far as Sal knows, my apartment is waiting for me and my life is normal, and the only thing that’s changed is that I’m now seeing a guy who thinks cereal checks off the boxes for all major food groups.

I sit on my usual stool. Wolfe lowers himself onto the one next to me. Sal pours him a ginger ale without asking and slides it across the bar.