Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
Miko
There weren’t a lot of places that guys in our organization felt comfortable having private conversations. Public spaces could so easily be wired, or people overheard shit they weren’t supposed to.
The risk was too high.
That said, Cosimo had one place.
Apparently, it was a safe space because when the owner’s daughter was drugged and assaulted, a young Cosimo went out into the city, tracked down the bastard, chopped off his balls, and brought them to the owner as a gift.
Ever since, there had been an understanding that Cosimo and his crew could use the place as much as they wanted. Even sweep the place for bugs when it was closed, just to make sure it was all on the up-and-up.
So that’s where Venezio took us.
It was a little red brick bar that catered to blue-collar workers who were looking for a few drinks and a chill atmosphere.
“A bar?” Max asked when Venezio double-parked, ignoring the horns behind us.
“Told you. Lots of exits.”
Max looked out the window toward the bar before reaching back to flip her hoodie up over her head. It didn’t escape me that she had her head ducked as we walked in too, not wanting to deal with the sideways looks from anyone inside.
I nodded at the bartender, then led Max toward the back of the bar, letting her sit with her back to everyone, so she was only facing me.
Satisfied with that, she pulled off her hood, sucked in a deep breath, then looked at me.
“I did see him,” she admitted.
“Gathered that,” I agreed as the waitress made her way over.
Max turned away, pretending to inspect something on the wall. “Two whiskeys. But heavy on the rocks,” I said, thinking of the marks on her throat, how much it must have hurt just to swallow, let alone keep talking. “Took a chance you take things straight,” I said when she looked back at me.
“So long as it’s cold, I don’t care. What do you want to know first?”
“Did he say anything?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Yeah, he said he saw me lift your wallet.”
Whoever this was, he’d been watching me. Maybe lying in wait, trying to find his opening to lift the wallet himself or take it by force.
But who the fuck could it have been?
I’d been working this job quiet as a fucking mouse. Cosimo didn’t know. My family didn’t. So there was no way that the word had gotten out that way.
Which only left people who’d been involved with the job. Or anyone they had possibly spoken to.
Which, yeah, didn’t fare well for me. Suspects could be in the dozens, hundreds.
Fuck.
“Did you see him?” I asked.
“At first, he had on the ski mask. But in the struggle, I pulled it off.”
“Any chance you happen to be a whiz at sketching?”
“Sure,” she said, but there was a sarcastic tug to her lips. “If you want a stick figure. A lopsided one.”
I let out a small huff of a laugh as our drinks were dropped off, watching Max reach for it like a lifeline, then savor the cold first sip.
“Alright. Well, do you think you would recognize him if you saw him again?” I asked.
“I’ll never forget that fuck’s face.”
“Anything distinctive about him?”
“No. He was almost painfully average. No birthmarks or scars. He was a dishwater blond with blue eyes. The bright kind of blue. Average to thin lips. Straight nose, not overly prominent. Maybe six foot.”
“What about his build?” I asked, then watched Max raise a brow. “Let me guess. Average?”
“Yeah. Not bulky, but not skinny either. Strong.”
“What about what he had on? Any jewelry?”
“Not that I saw, no. He was dressed for a burglary. All black. But he came with zip ties. I guess they were in his pocket or something. Things were going in warp speed.”
“Scent?” I asked, knowing I was getting desperate, but I needed something other than dirty blond and blue-eyed.
“Actually,” she said, brows pinching as the memory came back. “Yeah. He reeked of cigarettes. You don’t find that much anymore,” she went on. “Everyone smells like fruity vapes or weed. But he smelled like cigarette smoke.”
A blond-haired, blue-eyed smoker. It was something to try to run with.
“Age?” I asked.
“My age? Mid to late twenties.” She took another sip, then sat back and exhaled hard. “It’s not much,” she admitted.
“No,” I agreed, “but it’s something. I’d be more worried if this was just a normal home invasion where he just happened upon the stash of diamonds. But since he was watching me, it narrows shit down a bit.”
“I’m down for looking at pictures, if you need. The least I can do.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to do that.”
A silence fell for a second as the crowd toward the front of the bar got rowdy enough to make conversation difficult.
“I was planning to bring them back in the morning,” she said when things died down again. “I know that probably isn’t convincing, but I was.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because a… friend of mine and I concluded that you were probably in the mob. And that you’d track me down eventually, so it would be better for me to find you before you found me. My mistake was falling asleep. I’d been awake for well over twenty-four hours. I figured a few more hours wouldn’t be a big deal.”
“Could that friend have—“ I started, but Max was shaking her head before I could finish.
“No. She deals in stolen merchandise. Jewelry, specifically. Takes apart distinctive pieces and creates new ones that can be sold. I just brought one diamond to her to check to see if it was real. She was the one to urge me to get the wallet back to you as soon as possible.”
“But if she’s into…”
“Honestly, she likely has, easy, a million or two worth of loose gems around her place. Not only does she not need your diamonds, but she really doesn’t give a shit about money.”
“Everyone gives a shit about money.”
“Okay. Maybe it’s more appropriate to say that she has more than she needs. She lives very… humbly.”
“I get wanting to protect your friend’s identity, but I’m gonna want to talk to her.”
“Not without me, you won’t.”
She squared up a bit at that, chin lifting. Even beat to shit, she was going to stand up and try to defend her friend from any threat I might present.
“Yeah, you can tag along. I’m just gonna talk to her. But she might also be someone who has a finger on the pulse of underground diamond sales. I want her to keep an ear out for me.”
“Okay,” Max agreed, but her eyes were still hard.
They were prettier than I’d anticipated. A hazel that kind of flirted with both green and brown. Logically, I knew it was likely the lighting in the bar, but I couldn’t help but think maybe her mood had something to do with it.
Max’s phone started to ring, making her reach for it.
“Your worried roommate?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, picking up. “I’m fine , Megs. I will be home in a few, I promise. Keep the door locked. I’ll text when I get there.”
“Guess we should go get you those ice pops before your roommate calls the cops, claiming I abducted you.”
Max finished her drink. I dropped cash on the table. Then we both headed out to find Venezio had found a spot half a block down.
There was a bodega between us and him, so we dipped in, going right to the freezer section. “This place has a milkshake machine,” I told her. “Want one? Chocolate?”
“Vanilla,” she corrected, perusing the ice pop options. “I don’t like chocolate.”
“Really?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure my sisters would chew through my arm if it was in the way of a chocolate bar.” But I went and got her the vanilla shake.
“Wait, no,” she said when she put two boxes of pops on the counter next to the shake and the bottle of throat spray I’d found, and I passed the guy behind the counter some cash from the clip I’d had Venezio bring me from my place.
I felt oddly naked without my wallet. The cash. The cards. My I.D. But I had more than enough cash stashed around this city to keep things going.
“Don’t listen to her,” I said to the owner, someone I knew paid the Family protection money. “I’m paying.”
“No, I am,” Max said, but the cashier wasn’t listening as he bagged her boxes, then handed me a receipt. “I stole over half a million dollars from you. Why are you paying for my ice pops?” She looked at me as I held the door open for her, her eyes rolling. “Oh, God. This is some old-fashioned ‘I’m the man, so I pay for everything’ thing, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Sorry, sugar. That’s just the way it works.”
“Sugar?” she asked, shaking her head at me. “Trust me, Miko, there’s nothing sweet about me.”
She ducked into the backseat of the car as she said that, leaving me to close the door for her.
I was sure she was wrong about that.
There was definitely something I’d bet good money on being real sweet about her.