Chapter Four …They Pull Me Back in.
West
She throws things. They hit me.
All in all, I’d say our first meeting is going really well.
“Get out!” she shrieks. “Get out, or I’ll call the cops!”
I duck out of the way of a flying plate.
The only thing separating us now is the small kitchen island built into the floor of her one-bedroom apartment.
Adelina’s managed to slip into the kitchen, an arsenal of knives and forks and heavy bowls she can use for ammunition at her fingertips.
A critical error on my part. She has an impressive arm.
“We both know you’re not going to do that,” I reply quickly, dodging a Tupperware lid that she throws like a discus. She nearly takes the top of my skull off with that one.
“Try me, asshole!” She grabs a cleaver next. The shiny glint of the metal makes my stomach flip. There was probably a better way to introduce myself, but it’s much too late for that. I’ve got one foot in the grave, and she’s got the shovel ready to bury me alive.
I raise a hand like I’m trying to tame a clever velociraptor. “Take it easy, alright? I don’t want tonight to end in murder.”
“You should have thought of that before you broke into my apartment!”
Three sharp knocks sound at the front door. She turns, her face pale and her eyes wide in mortification.
“Adelina, dear?” comes the voice of an elderly woman. “Is everything alright?”
I move before Adelina has a chance, racing for the door. “One second!” I call out.
“Don’t you dare!” Adelina hisses.
But it’s too late. I pry the door open wide and lean casually against the doorframe. Adelina has no choice but to hide the cleaver she’s wielding, tossing it away and out of view. More importantly, out of reach.
“Oh,” the lady says, blinking up at me. “Is everything alright in there? I thought I heard shouting.”
“Sorry about that,” I say, with one of the most charming smiles I can muster. I may be out of the game, but there are some tricks that come as naturally to me as breathing. “Adelina and I were trying to figure out where we wanted to go for dinner. She can be very enthusiastic.”
“Is this true?” the woman asks. “I’ve never known you to have guests.”
“We met on a dating app.” Adelina lies with much more fluidity than I was expecting. She shoots me a hard glare. “I have a feeling this might be our first and last date.”
So she can think on her feet. That bodes well for me.
“The night’s still young,” I reply with a wink.
When she turns her nose up at me, I’m almost offended. Damn, I must be rustier than I thought. It used to be I could charm my way into anyone’s heart with a simple compliment and an honest smile—the con man’s favorite tool. Although, in hindsight, I wasn’t a very successful one.
“Well, as long as everything’s alright,” Adelina’s neighbor says. “If you’re looking to try something new, there’s a lovely kebab place not too far from here.”
“We’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” I say as I close the door gently, leaning my back against it so I can keep an eye on Adelina. Better to not let her catch me unaware. “There. Happy?”
She frowns. “What?”
“Your neighbor’s seen my face. If I try anything fishy—which I wasn’t planning to, calm down—she can give my description to the police.”
“Mrs. Singh is eighty-nine and forgets to put in her dentures most mornings, so that’s hardly reassuring.”
“Look, I’m sorry about the breaking and entering, but it’s not like I could have knocked on your door and asked to come in. If I really wanted to—”
“Murder me and chop me up into little bits?” she interjects.
“If I really wanted to do that, I could have hidden behind your curtains and caught you by surprise.” I take a deep breath and place a hand over my heart. “Well, more by surprise.”
“How did you get in?”
I slip the small pin I had tucked beneath my tongue out, pinching it between my teeth. “Picked your lock.”
“Do me a favor and choke on it.”
Ooh. She’s feisty, this one.
I slip the pin back under my tongue. A pocket is probably less of a hazard, but Michael was the one who taught me this little trick. Cops check pockets, after all, and necessity begets creativity. The tools I use must not only be discreet but accessible at all times.
“Aren’t you curious?” I ask her.
“Curious about what?”
I grin even wider, loving the anger in her dark eyes. “How I found you. I bet it’s burning you up inside.”
This is a gambit on my part. She was probably too busy throwing things at me to wonder, but now that I’ve planted the seed, I can see her mind at work. It’s in the twitch of her left eye and the tight line of her jaw.
She appears to be a woman of simple tastes.
The type to dress for comfort rather than style.
Her black hoodie is a size too big, and her acid-washed blue jeans are baggy as well.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose a pixie cut out of convenience rather than as a fashion statement, and apart from the three small hoops in both her earlobes and the watch wrapped around her wrist, she doesn’t have any flashy jewelry.
Odd. Given the plainness of her apartment—scuffed secondhand furniture and sparse white walls—I figured she would at least splurge on herself.
What does she do with all the money she steals? Does she really give it all to charity? That doesn’t sound like fun at all.
Like a feral cat backed into a corner, Adelina studies me with a level of intensity that sends a shot of adrenaline racing through my veins. It’s her gaze, as studious as it is sharp. She isn’t just angry, I realize, but furious.
And for some reason, I find that absolutely thrilling.
Our standoff lasts another moment, the air around us so heavy that I can feel it bearing down on my shoulders.
I’ve placed the ball in her court, but I don’t know if she’d rather play or throw the basketball directly at my nose.
Given her propensity for using me for target practice, I’d argue the latter.
It isn’t until her shoulders loosen that I know I’ve won this round. Marks like her have their intellect, which is often wrapped up in their pride. She wants to know. Needs to. Which is why I’m not at all surprised when she says, “Fine. But we’re not talking here.”
“What do you suggest?”
“A restaurant.”
I chuckle. “Because you want witnesses around?”
“Why else?”
“Works for me,” I reply. “That kebab place your neighbor suggested sounds nice.”
“Whatever. You go first.”
“So you can stab me while my back is turned? Nice try. We’ll leave side by side; how does that sound?”
Her left eye twitches again. “Fine.”
I gesture toward the door with a sweep of my arm. And although she flips me the bird, we do end up leaving the apartment together.
Look at that. We’re getting along already.