CHAPTER 5 MARSH TIGHTENS THE NOOSE #2
"Then we're both fucked." He reached for the papers again, but she jerked them away.
A new detail caught his eye—a tiny, stamped emblem at the bottom of the last page. The DA's seal, sure, but beneath it, handwritten initials: R.S.
Rebecca Shaw. The new assistant DA with a hard-on for organized crime.
Evelyn followed his gaze. "Who's that?"
Dario met her eyes. "Worse than Marsh."
Outside, a car engine roared to life. Daniel's, probably. Headed straight to the courthouse.
Evelyn tossed the subpoenas onto the counter. They landed with a slap. "Then we don't have seventy-two hours."
Dario checked his watch. "We don't have seventy-two minutes."
She was already moving, snatching her coat off the rack. "You handle your people. I'll handle mine."
He caught her wrist. "And if they overlap?"
Her smile was all teeth. "Then someone's going to need a coroner, not a clinic."
The door slammed behind her.
Dario looked down at the subpoenas. R.S. stared back.
Tick-tock.
The safehouse smelled of burnt coffee and gun oil. Evelyn kicked the door shut behind her, tossing her keys onto the counter with a clatter. Dario Vitale stood at the window, backlit by the neon glow of the street outside, his silhouette sharp against the glass. He didn’t turn.
"You’re late," he said.
She shrugged out of her coat. "You’re lucky I came at all."
That got his attention. He turned, slow, deliberate. The light caught the edge of his jaw, the faint scar running along his temple. "We don’t have time for tantrums, Evelyn."
"Tantrums?" She crossed the room in three strides, stopping just short of toe-to-toe. "You sent Marsh into that warehouse blind. He’s got a bullet in his leg and a target on his back."
Dario didn’t flinch. "He knew the risks."
"He knew the lie." Her fingers curled into her palms. "You told him it was a routine pickup."
A beat of silence. Then, almost imperceptibly, Dario’s posture shifted—just enough to acknowledge the hit. "Sit down," he said. "We need to strategize."
She didn’t move. "Why? So you can feed me the same bullshit?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. A warning. "Because in forty-seven minutes, the Albanians are moving three kilos of silver nitrate through the docks. And if we don’t intercept it, Marsh won’t be the only one bleeding."
Evelyn went still. Silver nitrate—the one thing that could burn through a werewolf’s healing. The Albanians weren’t just arming themselves. They were building a trap.
Dario reached into his jacket and slid a folded map across the table. "You want to save him? Then stop glaring and start thinking."
She exhaled through her teeth, finally dropping into the chair opposite him. The map was marked with red X’s—entry points, blind spots, exits. "You already have a plan."
"I have options." His fingers tapped the edge of the paper. "But I need your eyes on the ground. The Albanians have a new enforcer. Someone who doesn’t follow their usual patterns."
She studied the map, then him. "You’re asking for my help."
"I’m telling you where to stand." His voice was calm, but his knuckles whitened where they pressed against the table. "Unless you’d rather explain to Marsh why you let pride get him killed."
The clock on the wall ticked. Outside, a car alarm wailed, then cut off abruptly.
Evelyn leaned forward. "Fine. But we do it my way."
Dario’s gaze didn’t waver. "Prove it’s better."
She grabbed a pen from the table and drew a hard line through one of his X’s. "They’ll expect us here. But the old sewer access under the pier? That’s ours."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—not approval, not quite. Interest. "You’ve been down there."
"Once." She didn’t elaborate. The less he knew about her past jobs, the better.
He nodded once. "Then we move in thirty."
She stood, tucking the map into her back pocket. "One condition."
Dario raised an eyebrow.
"Marsh sits this one out."
A pause. Then, quietly: "Agreed."
The concession surprised her. Dario didn’t bend, not for anyone. But the clock was ticking, and the Albanians weren’t waiting.
She turned for the door. Behind her, Dario’s voice was low. "Evelyn."
She glanced back.
"Don’t miss."
Her lips curved, just slightly. "Never do."
The door clicked shut behind her. The game was on.
Dario caught Evelyn’s wrist before she could reach for the door. His grip wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t negotiable either. "New staff today," he said. "You don’t talk to them."
She twisted free, more out of reflex than necessity. "Since when do you care who I talk to?"
"Since the Albanians started paying janitors triple to report back." He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. The weight of it settled between them like a blade laid flat on a table.
Daniel leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. "He’s not wrong. They’ve got eyes everywhere now."
Evelyn studied the two of them—Dario’s unreadable calm, Daniel’s tense shoulders. A new rule, then. One she hadn’t been briefed on. "Fine. No chatting up the help." She tilted her head. "But if they approach me?"
Dario’s expression didn’t change. "Then you walk away."
The hum of the overhead fluorescents filled the silence. Beneath it, the distant clatter of a cart rolling down the hall. Too close for comfort.
Daniel pushed off the wall. "They’re early."
Dario didn’t glance at the door. "Standard sweep. They’ll check the vents first."
Evelyn’s fingers twitched toward her pocket, where the map pressed against her thigh. The vents were marked. Not heavily, but enough. If someone looked too close—
"Leave it," Dario said, without looking at her. "They won’t find anything."
She almost believed him. Almost.
The cart stopped outside. A knock, then a voice muffled through the steel. "Maintenance."
Daniel’s jaw tightened. Dario didn’t move.
Evelyn exhaled through her nose. "You’re sure about this."
He met her eyes. "I don’t warn without reason."
The door handle turned.
The hinges groaned as the door swung inward, revealing a man in a gray jumpsuit, his cap pulled low over his eyes. A mop bucket rattled beside him, the sharp tang of bleach cutting through the air. He didn’t step inside. Not yet.
"Evening," he said, his accent thick but unplaceable. "Routine check. You mind?"
Dario shifted just enough to block the man’s line of sight into the room. "Do what you need to."
The janitor’s gaze flicked past him, lingering on Evelyn for half a second too long. She kept her hands loose at her sides, her face blank. No reaction. No tells.
Daniel cleared his throat. "Vents are clear. Saved you the trouble."
A beat. Then the janitor smiled, slow and deliberate. "Appreciate that." He reached into his pocket, and Evelyn’s muscles coiled—but all he pulled out was a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He tapped one loose. "Long shift."
Dario didn’t blink. "Take it outside."
The man’s smile didn’t waver. He tucked the cigarette behind his ear and grabbed the mop handle. "Sure thing." He backed up, dragging the cart with him. The door clicked shut.
Evelyn waited until the wheels faded down the hall before speaking. "That wasn’t a sweep."
Daniel rubbed his temple. "No. That was a message."
Dario finally moved, crossing to the window in three strides. He yanked the blinds shut. "They know we’re here."
Evelyn’s pulse kicked, but she kept her voice steady. "So we’re blown."
"Not yet." Dario turned, his voice dropping lower. "But they’re testing. Seeing how we react."
Daniel swore under his breath. "We stick to the plan. No deviations."
Evelyn flexed her fingers, the ghost of the map’s edges still pressing into her skin. "And if they’re waiting for us to move?"
Dario’s lips thinned. "Then we give them nothing to follow."
Outside, a shadow passed the gap under the door—too slow for someone just walking by. Evelyn caught the shift in Dario’s stance, the way his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.
Daniel noticed it too. He mouthed a single word: Listening.
Evelyn forced a laugh, loud and careless. "Christ, could they at least pretend to be subtle?"
Dario played along, his voice deliberately carrying. "Subtlety’s expensive. They’re cutting corners."
The shadow didn’t move.
Daniel tossed his keys onto the table with a clatter. "Well, if they’re gonna lurk, they can at least bring coffee."
A pause. Then the shadow slid away.
Evelyn waited a full ten seconds before speaking again, her voice in a low voice. "We’re out of time."
Dario’s nod was grim. "Then we move first."
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and stale coffee, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead like a bad omen.
Daniel Marsh leaned against the nurses' station, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as scalpels.
The night shift nurse—Nina, according to her nametag—had dark circles under her eyes and a tremor in her hands that had nothing to do with exhaustion.
"You look like you could use a break," Marsh said, sliding a folded slip of paper across the counter.
Nina hesitated before picking it up, her fingers shaking as she unfolded it. The number written there was enough to make her breath hitch. "I don't—I can't—"
"You already did," Marsh said, voice low and smooth. "Three months ago, when you pocketed those morphine vials. Hospital security doesn't know yet. But they will."
Her face drained of color. "I had to. My brother—"
"I don't care." He leaned in, close enough that she could smell the expensive cologne masking something colder beneath. "What I care about is Evelyn Crane. Who visits her. What she says. What she doesn't say."
Nina swallowed hard. "I'm not—I won't hurt anyone."
Marsh smiled, the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Good. Then we understand each other." He tapped the paper still clutched in her hand. "That's your first payment. There's more where it came from. Or, well." He shrugged. "There's the alternative."
Across the hall, the elevator dinged. Dario stepped out, his gaze sliding past them like they were part of the scenery. But Nina flinched anyway, her fingers crumpling the edge of the paper.