Page 8 of Deadly Sins: Greed

Falcon left his post, walked over, and stood beside me, making the space between us a bit too tight for my liking. I backed against the window turned to glance out, pretending whatever I saw outside was far more interesting than the present conversation in the room. To my surprise, it was. In the parking lot, a man in a ball cap leaned against the passenger-side door of Daniela’s car like the car belonged to him. His arms were crossed over his chest, eyes searing into mine like he could see me through the hospital room window, even though we were four stories up and the window was coated in a reflective mirror-like tint.

I peered over my shoulder, wondering if anyone else had seen what I did.

They hadn’t.

They were too engrossed in a conversation of their own, huddled together, discussing their game plan to catch the man or men responsible. I gazed back at the man outside. This time he raised a hand into the air, waving it back and forth as if to see if I took the bait.

I did.

Facing the others in the room, I tried my best to keep my tone casual. “I’ll be right back.”

Falcon raised a brow, suspicious. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.”

He tipped his head toward the corner of the room. “No need to leave. There’s a bathroom right there.”

I flashed him a smartass grin, indicating my need for privacy, to which he replied, “Oh. Sorry.”

I exited the room, walking briskly down the hall—fast, but nottoofast. Once I rounded the corner, I set off into a sprint, racing down several flights of stairs and then pushing through the hospital’s revolving door at the main entrance. The man was gone. But his brief appearance had served its purpose. Affixed to the car window was a cartoonish image of a shark. I peeled the photo off of the window and flipped it over to the backside, revealing the poignant message written in black ink:

Three million dollars.

Midnight.

382 Union Station

If you want to make an exchange, tell no one and come alone.

Apparently it was amateur hour in ransom-note town.

“What are you doing out here?”

It was becoming clear that Falcon was the kind of bird I wouldn’t be able to shoo away no matter how hard I tried. I curled the photo in my hand and slid it into my back pocket.

“I needed a moment to myself,” I said, “to think.”

His expression told me he didn’t believe me. “I have a job to do. I don’t have time to babysit you all day.”

I laughed. “And I don’t have time for your bullshit. So how about cutting through the crap and telling me what’s really going on here?”

CHAPTER 5

The modern day mafia was far different today than it had been decades before, when a simple misunderstanding or show of disrespect ended in men being gunned down in public in the streets. America had changed, and the mob had changed with it. Families became adaptable, smarter, less interested in the limelight, and more interested in anonymity and a low profile. An endless thirst for the almighty dollar remained, but the way in which it was obtained had become more sophisticated. Today’s mafia was far more diversified, checking their cell phones at the door, taking calculated risks instead of retaliating with spontaneous ones. Violence had abated, and some families no longer even operated under the blanket of a specific boss.

Giovanni had adapted with the times as well, but I suspected he was still running the show in the Luciana family. While methodical and calculated, he’d done something, and now it was coming back to haunt him.

“Talk to me about predatory lending,” I said.

Falcon frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“All right. I’ll make it easier. I want to know about Giovanni’s loan shark business.”

Falcon jerked his head back and laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I pulled the photo from my back pocket and flicked it at him. It slapped against his chest and then fluttered to the ground. He leaned down and picked it up, gawking at the shark on the front like he didn’t grasp its meaning, even though his reddened face told me everything I needed to know—something wasn’t right. I believed he had the answers I needed; he just wasn’t willing to share.

“From here on out I’m on my own,” I said. “You find Giovanni your way, and I’ll find him my way. Don’t follow me, and don’t get in my business.”

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