Page 31 of Shadowed Loyalty

Capecce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well. Thanks for rushing over to tell me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go make a few calls before everyone heads home for the day. Did you bring the filing with you?”

Roman patted his pockets, pasting mock innocence on his face. “Oh, horsefeathers. Must’ve forgotten them. Guess you’ll have to wait for Jennings to send them over in the morning.”

Capecce muttered something Roman didn’t quite catch, but the irritated tone brought a smile to his lips. He might have happily poked him a little more, but a new voice called Lorenzo from the doorway.

Capecce turned toward the door. “Did you need something, Mr. Stein?”

“Just saying goodbye. Heidi said to tell you she made your favorite cake, so feel free to come up this evening, son.”

The young lawyer smiled. “Thanks, but I don’t know when I’ll have time. Apparently bootlegging charges are still being filed against Mancari, so I’ll need to go tell him tonight.”

Stein snorted. “Try not to get shot while you’re there this time, will you?”

Roman’s brows flew up, but since Capecce still didn’t glance his way, he didn’t say anything until the other man moved off again. He took the opportunity to examine the unease in his gut. Could be that he just didn’t like someone else taking a shot at the man he had labeled his enemy, but it felt far too close to sympathy for that. He didn’t like the kid—he didn’t deserve Sabina, clearly didn’t know how to love her right. Roman had spent more time than he probably should have over the weekend dreaming of landing a punch of his own on Capecce’s nose. But he didn’t wish him dead. Capecce was a hypocrite, not one of the Betsy-toting maniacs that destroyed lives.

“Shot?” Roman asked.

Capecce looked near exhaustion, which didn’t delight Roman nearly as much as it would have a minute earlier. “Grazed. No big deal.”

“Guess St. Lorenzo has more enemies than he thought.” He had to work harder than he would have liked to achieve the scoffing tone that would keep clear boundaries between them.

“They weren’t aiming at me. I just got in the way trying to get to Sabina, who was right beside Manny.”

He wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t. “Is she okay?”

Capecce’s smile was small, sad. Roman cursed himself for revealing more than he wanted to. “Yeah. She’s fine.”

Before he could get himself in any more trouble, Roman pushed off and stood. “Well. I imagine I’ll be seeing you in court after all, Capecce. Stay out of the way of stray bullets, eh? I want you in top form when I take you down.”

“O’Reilly.” Roman paused in the doorway and turned around. Capecce had stood, too. A few of his papers blew in a sudden breeze from the open window, but he paid them no heed. “Whatever’s pushing you—this isn’t going to help. Even if you had succeeded at putting Manny away, it wouldn’t help.”

Roman didn’t so much as blink out of turn, even though a familiar face flashed before his mind’s eye: laughing green eyes, Irish red hair, gleaming white teeth always ready to show off a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Capecce sighed. “Play it that way, if you want, but you said something at the club the other night that made it pretty clear this fight is personal for you. Even if you win, it won’t hurt any less. There’s only one thing that can take that away.”

Roman rolled his shoulders back. “Justice.”

“No. Forgiveness.”

He felt his lips pull into a snarl. As if he needed a homily from a hypocrite who’d socked him in the jaw in a gin bar. “Spare me.” Roman strode back into the reception area and out the door without even pausing to flirt with Miss Gregory.

He jogged down the stairs, his mood spiraling with his altitude. He had a sudden yearning to turn back the clock, return to two weeks ago, when he had something to look forward to—the next time he could lure Sabina outside into the garden or convince her to join him for a meal. Or better still, if they joined Mary and Robert on the town.

No, if he was performing magic with time, he should go back a lot further than that. Take himself back to New York, when he’d worn a crisp blue uniform and a shining brass badge, when everything was right with the world. Back then, criminals were just criminals and good people were good people, and he didn’t have to wonder who was who. It had all been clear.

Or maybe he’d just been naïve. Maybe the lines had never been where he’d thought them.

As he shoved out the door, the wind hit him in the face with what could only be termed homesickness. Not for the Big Apple, exactly, but for the way things used to be. For those green eyes that had shone with pride. For being the green kid who deserved that pride.

That had been a lifetime ago. No amount of anything would make returning possible—not wishing, not prayers, not answering the pile of letters ever growing in his miserable little apartment. No matter how guilty his mother made him feel for it, he couldn’t go back. Not in time. And not to New York.

Too many ghosts haunted those streets for him.

He gained the sidewalk and turned to head back to the L, prepared to plow through any pedestrians in his way. He nearly collided with one after his first step.

“Roman!”

Instinctively, he reached to steady her; and once his hands were curled around her elbows, he couldn’t convince them to let go. Sabina looked up at him with a strange mix of emotions rolling over her face—but she didn’t pull away. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

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