Page 16 of Veil of Smoke

“Not really.”

“You tried to save him.”

“And failed.”

She doesn’t argue.

“She got hit today,” I add. “Someone went to her shop. Hurt her. Or tried to.”

Rita’s eyes widen. “You’re sure?”

“She hasn’t called. But I know how Corradino operates.”

Rita looks away, jaw tight. “Then you need to move. Fast.”

“I’m already thinking about next steps.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either.”

We sit in silence for a beat.

Then Rita’s eyes shift—over my shoulder.

She mutters, “Shit.”

I don’t turn.

“Six o’clock,” she says.

I raise my glass, angle the mirror behind the bar into view.

Gray suit. Black shirt. Face too thin for the body it’s sitting on. He’s nursing a drink that’s untouched.

“You know him?”

“No. But he’s been in here three times this week. Always the same booth. Doesn’t order anything. Doesn’t flirt. Just sits and watches.”

“Fed?”

“Maybe. Maybe worse.”

“Corradino’s?”

“Feels twitchier than that.”

“Gun?”

“Hard to tell.”

I breathe once, finish my bourbon.

“Want me to handle him?” Rita asks.

“No. I’ve got it.”

I stand, coat sliding back into place.

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