Page 30 of Veil of Smoke

His face appears under the bulb, bright and framed in shadow. He holds up two coffees in a cardboard tray. “Peace offering.”

I force a smile. “You’re late.”

“Story of my life.”

He reaches the bottom step, glancing around like he’s seeing it all for the first time.

“Didn’t know you kept this place so stocked,” he says.

“I like being ready.”

“For what?”

“Anything.”

I take my cup. His hand brushes mine. Too warm.

He doesn’t move back.

“How’ve you been?” he asks.

“Busy.”

He nods slowly. “I heard there was an incident.”

“There are always incidents.”

“Police reports say otherwise.”

I grip the cup tighter. “Must’ve been a quiet week.”

He walks toward the shelf, fingers grazing the glass vases. “You didn’t call me.”

“I didn’t need to.”

“You always call me.”

“Things change.”

His eyes flick to mine, searching. “You’re different.”

I shrug.

He doesn’t.

“Who was he?”

My stomach dips. “Who?”

“The man who left bleeding.”

“Just a thief.”

Ignazio studies me. “Did he take anything?”

“Nothing important.”

His expression tightens. I file it away.

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