Chapter Ten
Evangeline
Today was supposed to be uneventful. Tuesdays are usually dead for the pharmacy.
But I’m jumpy, flinching every time the phone rings or a shadow passes the glass of the front door.
I keep expecting Dante to reappear, to stride in and upend my routine all over again.
Instead, it’s just a mother with a sick toddler, a delivery guy, and the usual parade of pharmacy customers.
Just when I’m about to let my guard down, a man in a suit walks in.
Expensive, tailored, one that screams money.
Almost as nice as Dante’s. He’s short, with dark hair slicked back from his face, and pale skin.
Gold rings decorate his fingers. There’s nothing about this man that stands out, other than the gaudy jewelry.
I probably couldn’t describe him accurately if I had to; his features are so generic.
This man doesn’t look at the aisles or the shelves; he looks straight at me.
“Prescription for Mr. Scarletta,” he says, voice cold, clipped, and unemotional, but oddly high-pitched. I can’t help but compare it to the rough sound that comes from Dante’s lips. So damaged, but sexy at the same time.
Scarletta? Is this who Dante has been worried about? I’m not sure what to do, so I attempt to act normal.
I look, but don’t see the man’s name in the system when I type it into the computer. I even check the bin for prescriptions, find a small package, and hand it over. The man doesn’t thank me, just glances at it, then slides a business card across the counter.
“For future reference,” he murmurs. His hand grazes mine, just for a second, and I feel a flash of icy panic, his touch making my skin crawl. The simple black card with raised gold lettering reads: S. Scarletta.
I know he’s not a regular customer; I’d remember him. He’s also not in the system. I look up, but the man is already gone.
Something is happening. Something I am too na?ve, too isolated, to see clearly. This isn’t right.
I need to ask Silas. Maybe warn Dante?
I corner Uncle Silas in the back before he can retreat into his office behind his computer. He’s sipping coffee again, which is laced with his Irish cream liqueur, from a mug that says “World’s Greatest Uncle.” The appearance of wholesome. But now I think I know better.
Hoping I’m wrong, and not heeding Dante’s warning, I have to ask.
“Uncle Silas,” I say, keeping my voice innocently curious. “Who do you know named Severin?”
He freezes, the mug halfway to his lips. “Why do you ask?”
“Because someone picked up a prescription under that name. A man in a suit. He didn’t say much, just handed me a business card like I was supposed to recognize it. He wasn’t in the system.”
Silas sighs and sets the mug down with exaggerated care. “Sometimes customers prefer discretion and privacy.”
“I thought we didn’t do that kind of business,” I say, keeping my tone level, as if we’re talking about a regular business transaction and not a potential felony, which I think it is.
He hesitates, then crosses his arms over his chest. “Eve, you’re smart. You know the pharmacy world isn’t as simple as you want it to be. Sometimes we help people who … can’t go through normal channels. For their safety. For ours.”
Okay then. He’s lying. That rationale sounded very polished and rehearsed.
“Forget about it, Eve.” He waves his hand dismissively, using his nickname for me, and then grabs his coffee, continuing to drink it, turning to head to his office. “I’ll handle that part of the business. Just go back to your lab.”
Feeling angry and a little hurt at my uncle’s dismissal, I decide to go about my day as normal, my mind racing.
After organizing the front of the store for the fifth time, I still feel watched. Paranoia is not normal for me, but today I can feel it clawing up my spine, making it difficult to breathe.
By the time I close shop for the night, the street outside is deserted. I turn the key in the lock, heart pounding, and hurry up the stairs to my apartment, half-expecting Dante to be waiting. Instead, it’s just me. And the echo of his words looping in my mind.
“I can only protect you if you heed my warnings.”
“You don’t see it yet … but men are circling this place... not until I tell you it’s safe.”
I sit at my kitchen table and open my laptop, typing in the name from the card: S.
Scarletta. The results are vague. It’s almost as if the man’s a ghost. No presence on social media or the internet.
Nothing. Not even one blurry photo. I quickly delete my browser history, not wanting a trail or any indication I’m snooping, which I absolutely am.
It’s crazy to think this is the second criminal I’ve researched recently. When did this become my life?
Tomorrow, I’ll ask Silas about it again. I’ll look him in the eye and demand answers, even if it goes against every instinct I have for self-preservation.
Until then, I will keep my head down, my eyes open, and my mouth shut.
Preparing for bed, I pray I can sleep. I pray no one will come for me. But most of all, I pray Dante will keep me safe.