Chapter 6 The Memory of Her
THE MEMORY OF HER
Matteo
The squeal of swings and the metallic clank of monkey bars cut through the crisp spring air in Central Park. A dozen kids race across the playground like a swarm of sugar-fueled banshees, but my focus is on the little red-haired devil clambering up the slide backward.
“Rex,” I call, leaning against the fence with my hands stuffed in my pockets. “You’re supposed to go down, not up.”
My seven-year-old brother just grins at me over his shoulder, a gap where his front tooth used to be making him look like he lost a fight with the Tooth Fairy.
My sister, Madison, was supposed to be on babysitting duty this morning, but Papà was finally available for that driving lesson he’d been promising which left me with Rex.
Honestly, I don’t mind watching the little hellion, he reminds me a lot of myself at that age.
Of all my siblings, we’re the most alike.
Jackson is quiet and reserved, while all Sofia cares about is fashion, like Serena and our Aunt Jia, and Madison…
well, she’s just Madi, kind of nerdy like my mom but those glasses hide a wild streak beneath the smattering of freckles.
“It’s faster this way!” he shouts, drawing my attention as he scrambles up the slide.
“Pretty sure that’s not how physics works, kid.”
“Physics is stupid!” He hauls himself up with all the determination of a pint-sized soldier.
I can’t help it, I laugh. Loud and unguarded. He’s the only one who gets that out of me anymore. As the baby of the Rossi brood, he was an unexpected surprise. Everyone treats him like glass, like some fragile treasure. I just treat him like my little brother.
“Fine,” I grumble, throwing my hands up. “Defy gravity. Break your neck. Mom will blame me anyway.”
Maisy Rossi is quiet and assuming, has never said a curse word in her life, but she’s the only woman on the planet that could keep Papà in check. Some would call my father unhinged, but they wouldn’t live long after.
Rex whoops, drawing my attention, before he launches himself down the slide, hair flying, sneakers smacking the rubber mat at the bottom.
Then he’s sprinting back up the ladder. The kid is fearless.
I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
I watch him, warmth blooming in my chest despite myself.
Then that prickling sensation crawls across the back of my neck. It’s a sixth sense, one all of us Rossis are born with. It’s essential for self-preservation growing up in a family like ours.
I straighten slowly, scanning the park from behind my sunglasses. Moms are clustered on benches, gossiping. A jogger is stretching against a tree. Some old man feeds pigeons. Normal. All of it normal.
But the feeling doesn’t go away.
Her. It has to be her.
My pulse quickens, my breath coming harder.
The mystery woman from the Vault. The gun. The mask. Those eyes. I can’t shake the memory of her. I can’t stop replaying it at night when I should be sleeping.
I keep my hands loose at my sides, resisting the urge to reach for the gun tucked under my jacket. My eyes flick up to find Rex at the top of the slide again. This can’t happen. Not here. Not with my baby brother a few feet away.
Where are you? I glance around the trees that line the fencing around the park. Nothing.
“Matty! Watch this!” Rex is at the top of the jungle gym now, arms spread like he’s about to take flight.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, forcing my voice steady.
“You’re not a superhero, Rex. Get down before I have a heart attack.
” If there is someone tailing me, I need to get my little brother out of here.
The last thing I want is him witnessing me getting shot.
The sight of me riddled with bullets, blood blossoming across my chest flashes across my vision.
Stop that. You’re not dying today, Rossi.
“Superheroes don’t get down,” he calls out, grinning like a maniac.
“Superheroes also have to listen to their big brothers,” I shoot back. “Want me to call Ma and tell her you’re not behaving? You’ll be eating broccoli for dinner instead of pasta.”
That gets him. He scrambles down, muttering about how unfair I am.
I crouch, leveling my voice. “Hey, buddy. Thanks for listening. You’re going to be a great superhero one day.”
He grins again. I point toward the sidewalk, where our driver is waiting. “You see where Joey parked the black car over there?”
Rex nods.
“Good. Why don’t you go keep him company for a minute? Tell him you want gelato after this. I’ll be right there.”
Suspicion flickers in those dark eyes. The kid is way too smart for his age, just like I was. “Are you leaving?”
“Not a chance.” I ruffle his hair. “Just gotta make a quick phone call, and even superheroes need someone to watch them when they try to fly.”
He studies me like he doesn’t quite believe me, then finally huffs and trots toward the car. “I’m getting Nutella!” he calls out over his shoulder.
“Get two scoops,” I shout back, even though my stomach is as tight as a drum.
When he’s safe by the car, I let my smile drop. My gaze sweeps the park again, slower this time. Still nothing. Still no one.
But I know she’s out there. Watching. Waiting.
Where are you, Trigger? The nickname brings an unexpected smile to my face.
There. A flash of movement at the edge of the park behind the trees. I catch a whisp of blonde hair, a quick stride, and a head ducked just enough to say don’t notice me. My pulse spikes.
It’s her.
I’m moving before I know it, slipping past the fence, hand brushing the butt of my Glock. My eyes lock on the swing of her ponytail as she weaves through the crowd toward the street.
“Cazzo,” I hiss under my breath, breaking into a jog and then a run.
She’s fast. Too fast for someone in boots. A professional’s pace. But I’m faster. My legs eat up the distance between us, every nerve tuned to the hunt. People curse as I shoulder past them and horns blare when I cut into the street. The whole city fades until it’s just her.
The assassin. The mystery. The ghost I can’t stop thinking about.
I draw my gun low, close to my thigh, the matte black hidden by my jacket. I don’t dare risk it. Not here in broad daylight, not unless I have to. But if she turns with that weapon trained at me, I won’t hesitate.
A quiet voice in my head calls me a liar.
Another ten feet. Five. I can almost reach her.
“Matty!” The shout cuts through everything. High-pitched. Familiar.
I skid to a halt and whirl around. Rex is out of the car, waving both arms like a lunatic on the edge of the sidewalk. His smile is wide, oblivious, and his little body is too damn small against the blur of taxis and delivery trucks barreling past.
Shit. My heart slams harder than it did chasing her.
“Rex, what the hell are you doing?” I bark, shoving the gun back under my jacket as I whirl around and sprint toward him. “Get back!”
Damn it, Joey. Why the hell isn’t our driver watching him?
When I finally reach Rex what feels like a thousand years later, I grab his shoulders and yank him against me, shielding him from the traffic. “Don’t do that again, buddy. When I tell you to stay in the car, you have to do it.”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
Then, my eyes flick back across the street.
She’s gone.
Just like that. The blonde ghost has vanished into Manhattan’s veins. Again.
Rex tilts his head back, confusion scrunching his face. “Why were you chasing that pretty blonde lady anyway?”
I freeze, my throat tight. He saw her.
How the hell do I explain that to a seven-year-old? That his big brother’s being hunted by a woman who might be the most dangerous thing to ever walk into my life?
I force a crooked grin, ruffling his hair. “She… uh, owed me money.”
He frowns. “She didn’t look like the type.”
“Trust me, kid, no one ever looks like the type.”
Before he can press, I loop an arm around his shoulders and steer him back toward the car. “Come on. You said something about Nutella gelato?”
His face lights up instantly, all worries forgotten. “With sprinkles!”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want.”
My heart finally stops punching my ribs once we’re both settled in the back seat of the car. As the driver pulls away, I stare out the window at the blur of pedestrians, searching for a glimpse of blonde hair. But all I see is my own reflection in the glass, jaw tight and eyes hard.
She’s out there. And next time, I swear I won’t let her slip away.