Page 13 of Consumed By the Mafia

The three looked toward Ryoma, then over to Abigail, before exchanging looks amongst themselves. One shifted to face her and her chest tightened. She wouldn’t have time to draw her badge or her weapon if he squeezed his trigger.

“Point that gun at her and I’ll fuckin’ drop you,” Ryoma said sharply. He hauled the other man off the wall and started toward the three newcomers. “Take this son of a bitch in back and wait for a pick-up. Make sure to search him.”

The guns went down and her assailant found his fight again, suddenly surging against Ryoma’s grip in a bid for freedom. “Le’ go! I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you, bastard!” His eyes met hers as he reared back, wild with rage and desperation. “This is your fault, bitch!”

Abigail narrowed her eyes.Remember the goal.She needed to let this scene play out. It would work in her favor later. That didn’t mean she had to keep quiet entirely. “What, manhandling’s only fun when you’re the one doing it?”

Ryoma released his hold on the man, twisting and bringing a knee into the man’s chest before the guy could take morethan a single step in her direction. Then he hauled the other man back and bodily tossed him onto the ground, in the direction of the three in front of the store. He settled his foot on her assailant’s collar, just below the neck, and leaned forward. “That’s the last time you insult her, or I’ll have you wishing you had the strength to beg for death. Do I make myself clear?”

Abigail could only stare, genuinely surprised, as he proceeded to wave the other three forward and moved off of her defeated attacker. She watched them haul him up, someone produced zip-ties for his wrists, and the man was dragged into the bookstore with concerningly minimal effort.

Ryoma extracted his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear, still scowling. “Sorry to bug you. Got a package for pick-up at the bookstore. Giuseppe’s got the details.”

Holy shit.The bookstore was part of the front. It wasn’t even a mile from her apartment! She couldn’t believe she’d been living so damn close to a functioning business with deep connections to the group she was looking for.

“I don’t actually know,” Ryoma said, still on the phone. He shifted his weight impatiently. “Of course. There’s just something I have to take care of first.” He was quiet another beat. “I will.” Then he pulled the phone away and dropped it back into his pocket, the screen already dark.

Abigail drew a breath, well aware they were alone again—as alone as two people could get on a city sidewalk—and she needed to get her thoughts together in order to say something. As soon as he turned fully toward her, she offered, “Thank you … I think. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

He frowned and cupped her face. It struck her, hard, that the anger had completely vanished from his eyes. He was searching for something, but she saw no irritation of any kind. And his voice was different again when he spoke, too. More like she remembered. “Are you hurt?”

Her heart lurched, as if she had any business reacting to that question. In that tone. She tried to distract herself and opted to tease him. “Were you worried?”

“Tch.” Ryoma caught her free hand and pulled her with him toward the curb, and his car. He opened the door and tilted his head. “Get in. We’ll talk somewhere else.”

Abigail obliged him, though she would have preferred to stick around and see who showed up next. She didn’t imagine she had a way to justify that at this stage. When Ryoma was behind the wheel again, she said, “I’m just a little sore. It’s no big deal.”

He glanced over at her as the engine purred to life. “Elaborate on that.”

She gestured vaguely toward her head. “There’s good hair-pulling and bad hair-pulling. He didn’t have the good touch.” Her scalp didn’t actively hurt, but she was sure if she patted it or leaned against the headrest too soon, it wouldn’t be comfortable.

Ryoma swung onto the road and drove them away from the bookstore, quickly putting the entire area behind them. “Anything else? Where exactly did he touch you?”

She raised a brow at the question. “My hair. He caught me by my hair and tried dragging me that way, until I stomped on his foot. The only other thing he did was chase me on foot forlike, I don’t know, maybe fifteen minutes. Long enough to be exhausting and uncomfortable.”

“What the fuck did that piece of shit want with you? Do you have any idea?” He looked like he was white-knuckling the wheel and she felt decidedly guilty about that, too.

Abigail forced herself to look away from him, dropping her gaze to her phone. “I assume he works for either Silva or the asshole Silva was with earlier.”

“Chief of Police Silva? I thought you didn’t know who he was?”

“How bad of a memory do you think I have?”

Ryoma pulled into a mostly empty parking lot, finding an out of the way spot beneath a small tree. “So you ran into Silva earlier, and had some kind of problem? And he was with someone?”

Abigail swiftly unlocked her phone and opened her photo gallery. “This man.” She held out the first of the two pictures she’d snapped. The angle was a bit awkward, and Silva was only partially visible from the way she’d been standing, but the burgundy-haired man was clear enough. He’d be identifiable for anyone who knew him. “Silva spoke to me first, though. He recognized me from the bar. That disdain you have for him seems to be a mutual feeling.”

Ryoma frowned at the picture. “I don’t recognize this one. Did you get a name? Did he have an accent? Did they say anything remarkable?”

She couldn’t stop her lips from lifting in a grin. “I didn’t realize you were so inquisitive.”

His frown held as his gaze shifted to hers. “I need all the information in order to know what I’m punishing them for.” He was entirely serious.

Her amusement faded, but the only discomfort she felt was with herself when she realized shedidn’tfeel the discomfort or upset she should have. It wasn’t like she couldn’t guess his meaning. What was wrong with her? Abigail licked her lips and swiped to the second picture. “I only got a name after the situation turned physical,” she said. “He refused to give me one, but he’s the suspicious sort, and he wanted to get hands on my phone before I walked away. I guess he’d noticed I’d had a good angle to take a photo and he didn’t like that idea.” She showed him the image of burgundy-hair with the vice-grip on her arm. In that picture, both men’s faces were clearly visible. “Silva was blatantly ignoring his civic duty. He even threatened to send cops to pick me up, despite that I’d never introduced myself.”

Ryoma snatched the phone from her hand and zoomed the image in, anger darkening his features. He muttered something in Japanese she didn’t know the translation for, but his tone assured her it wasn’t a pleasantry.

With nothing else to say, Abigail continued. “I let him drag me closer after that, and when I was close enough I kneed him really hard in the nuts.” Ryoma looked up from the phone, pride filtering through the anger on his face. “When he went down, and let go of me, Silva addressed him, but I think it was just a partial name. He cut Silva off, so I don’t know what he was going to say exactly.”

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