Page 57 of Arranged Obsession
Leo looks deeply relieved. “You’re going to help out?”
“To a point. Maybe a couple hours a day of work.” I tap my desk and meet his gaze. “But the women’s shelter is my actual priority. You’re going to take lead on the delivery front’s logistics. Between you and Finn, you’ll be fine.”
He glances at the door. “Don’t know about that Whelan guy.”
“Find a way to work together.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Leo combs his fingers back through his hair. “First thing’s first, we’re hiring some more people. Since I don’t know shit about shit.”
“Except for moving drugs.”
“Well, that is something I am very good at.” He grins, boyish and good looking. “What’s with the shelter project, anyway?”
“Believe it or not, some people care about the world.”
“Shocking. I don’t believe you.”
“I know, hard to imagine for a mafia guy.” I smile back at him. Leo’s not so bad, at least for a criminal. He’s got a good head and he can be charming sometimes. “I believe in giving back, that’s all. I want to live in a world where people care about each other.”
“Don’t we all? Except from my experience, life’s pretty much about taking as much as you can before all the other bastards come steal what’s left.”
“That mindset is exactly why people like me are important.”
“I feel blessed just to be in your presence.”
“You may kiss the ring if you’re so inclined.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Maybe another time.”
Once he’s gone, I get back to planning my shelter. There are a billion different things I need to do, but the number of jobs doesn’t overwhelm me.
Instead, it’s energizing.
I love throwing myself into a new project. That’s probably why Adriano thinks I’m a control freak. I thrive on working hard and figuring things out. It’s why Grace House was such a good fit for me—there were always new challenges to overcome. Every day was different.
The day passes. I don’t have any concrete progress, but I manage to put together a roadmap. I’m tempted to reach out to my old boss Kate for some advice, but I don’t want to take up her time. I know she’d help, but she’s already got enough to deal with.
No, this is going to be all mine.
First, I’ll have to settle on a name though.
A few different ideas rattle around my head. Serenity House, Open Door Place, Empowerment Center. None feel perfect though. I try saying them out loud as I ride the elevator down to the lobby on my way back to Cormac’s place, and some old guy in a suit gives me a weird look.
“Safe Harbor,” I whisper, but that’s too generic. “Sanctuary. Phoenix Rising.” I’m frowning as I step out into the early evening rush hour. There are cars in the street and lots of people walking down the sidewalks. It’s not as packed as I expected, but this part of the Bronx isn’t exactly the center of the universe. “Courage House. Cornerstone?”
I pause on the sidewalk, looking around for Cormac’s car. He should be here to pick me up. I check my phone and it’s exactlyfive-thirty, which is what we agreed on. But since I don’t see him, I’m taking it as unspoken permission to walk home. I turn and start moving, but I have to slow down as two men come toward me, walking shoulder to shoulder and taking up the whole sidewalk.
They’re both big. Enormous, honestly. The guy on the left has on jeans and a ratty gray hoodie, while the other is in baggy cargo shorts and a faded long-sleeve thermal. Both are staring at me, expressions grim, and they don’t slow down as they head straight in my direction.
There are hundreds of guys like these two all over New York. They could easily be construction workers heading out for a drink together. But all the alarms in my head start blaring as they get closer and closer.
“Bianca Marino,” the man on the left says. His voice has a deep Russian accent. “Greetings from Pakhan Morozov.” He draws a small, shiny revolver from the depths of his hoodie pocket. His partner draws another gun, this one stubby and small. Both men aim right at my chest.
Time slows. I look around in a panic. There are people nearby, but nobody’s paying attention. Why would they? And what could they do?
I open my mouth to scream. But it’s too late.
I’m dead.
