23. Eva
EVA
I walk into Rosario’s with a fake smile and the sinking feeling that this is the last normal visit I’ll ever have here again.
Sal nearly knocks me over when I walk into the restaurant.
He comes around the bar at full speed and wraps me in a hug so tight, I’m airborne for a long second.
I breathe him in, his scent that familiar mix of garlic, freshly baked bread, and Drakkar Noir, the cologne he’s been wearing since high school that I keep telling him to retire but he won’t because he says it’s a classic.
“Jesus, E. It’s been almost a week,” he says. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Work’s been crazy. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to make it in.”
“You need a job that doesn’t have you working through every meal.
How am I supposed to make sure you’re eating?
” He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, studying my face the way he has since the night I was arrested.
Now he’s always on the lookout for any indication of things I may be keeping from him, which is basically everything.
“You look different,” he says, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Different how?” I try to play it off but dammit, he knows me too well.
“I don’t know. Lighter, maybe. More relaxed. It’s nice to see. But…”
My heart stutters. “But what?”
“There are circles under your eyes. You’re not sleeping enough.”
Fucking cheap ass concealer. “I’ve had some late nights but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
He nods, trying to decide whether or not to believe me. “You look a little pale. Are you eating enough?”
I let out a sigh. “Yes, Sal. I’m eating.”
“You always say that, but eating enough doesn’t mean fueling yourself on coffee and protein bars.”
I give his arm a squeeze. “I’ve been eating real food. I promise.”
He narrows his eyes at Wolfe. “You feeding my sister?”
“When she lets me,” Wolfe says.
Sal grins so wide, the brightness could quite easily power the restaurant. He is totally marrying us off in his mind.
I swear sometimes he’s just like a little old Italian grandma.
“I’m glad you’re back, E,” he says. “This place isn’t the same without you.”
“I was gone for six days.”
“Like I said. It just wasn’t the same.” He winks at me and pushes me to the bar. “Sit. I’m making you something special. And don’t give me that ‘I’m not hungry’ bullshit because I can see your collarbone from here.”
I slant a look at Wolfe. I told Sal last week that I had a freelance gig out of town for a client project. He doesn’t really understand what I do besides the fact that I sit in front of a computer, and he doesn’t dig for details, which makes lying to him painfully easy.
Today I’m “just back” from the trip and came straight to see him. As far as Sal knows, my apartment is waiting for me and my life is normal, and the only thing that’s changed is that I’m now seeing a guy who thinks cereal checks off the boxes for all major food groups.
I sit on my usual stool. Wolfe lowers himself onto the one next to me. Sal pours him a ginger ale without asking and slides it across the bar.
“Wolfe, my man. You taking care of my sister?”
“As much as she lets me.”
“He’s doing an okay job,” I say, bumping Wolfe’s knee with mine under the bar.
“Okay?” Sal clutches his chest. “Jesus. Don’t go too overboard on the praise, E.”
“It keeps him humble,” I say.
“Nothing keeps me humble,” Wolfe says drily. “I’m objectively the best option available.”
Sal lets out a laugh. “I fucking love this guy.”
“I know, I know.” I roll my eyes. “You tell me every time I see you.”
“I just wanna make sure you hear it. Now sit tight while I bring out some of my famous bruschetta.” Sal disappears through the red kitchen doors and comes back two minutes later with a plate of bruschetta that smells so good my stomach growls loud enough for both of them to hear.
He doesn’t cook at the restaurant all the time, but when he does, oh my God.
“Is there a demon inside of you?” Sal says, his eyes widening. “What the hell was that sound?”
“I told you, I just got off a plane. I haven’t eaten yet today.
” I spoon the bruschetta onto a piece of garlic toast and take a big bite.
The crunch is so satisfying and the explosion of flavors on my tongue practically brings tears to my eyes, it’s that incredible.
But then again, not surprising because everything Sal makes is incredible.
I can always taste the love in his food, which is so rare, but so comforting, at the same time.
Wolfe takes a piece of the garlic toast and puts a bit of bruschetta on the top.
He turns it over in his hand, studying it, the rough crust, the bright red of the tomato against the golden bread.
He takes a bite and the crunch hits first. I watch his jaw work, watch his eyes narrow slightly the way they do when a new texture registers.
The crispness of the bread. The tang of the chopped tomato. The sharp bite of garlic underneath.
“The basil is fresh,” he says.
“Grew it myself,” Sal says proudly. “Got a little herb garden going out back. Marco thinks I’m insane, but the customers can taste the difference. They all say so.”
“They’re telling the truth,” Wolfe says. “This is exceptional.”
Sal beams, possibly radiating more light than the sun. I sit there, a smile tugging at my lips as I watch my brother and the man I’m falling for talk about basil.
My brother and the man I’m falling for, talking about basil. Two worlds that were never supposed to touch. And yet here they are, fitting together like they were always meant to.
“So,” Sal says, leaning on the bar. “Business has been really good.”
“Yeah?” I say before shoveling in another heaping toast point.
“Really good. Like, record month good. Marco wants to talk about expanding the menu. We might even look at opening up that back patio for outdoor seating in the spring.” His face is open and bright and full of the kind of hope that makes my eyes burn because six months ago this man was drowning in debt and faking smiles for Albanian loan sharks.
“That’s amazing, Sal.”
“It gets better.” He leans closer like he’s about to share a secret.
“So something really cool happened last week. I wanted to wait until I saw you so I could tell you in person. I got a call from an investor who said he heard about Rosario’s through a business associate.
” Excitement glitters in the depths of his dark eyes.
“He wants to talk about a partnership. Like, an investment opportunity.”
My hand freezes on the bruschetta spoon.
“He wants to meet next week,” Sal continues, completely oblivious to the fact that my jaw just damn-near hit the bar.
“So we can talk about expanding, maybe opening a second location. Can you imagine? A second Rosario’s?
” His voice rises and he claps his hands together.
“I still can’t believe it. But I guess what they say is true.
Do what you love and opportunities always find you. ”
“Who is he?” I force my voice to stay calm even though my entire body is in full-blown panic mode.
“Some guy named...” Sal pulls out his phone and scrolls. “Andersen. James Andersen. He works for some investment company. Red Sky Capital Partners.”
“And he just called you out of the blue?” I ask.
“Yeah, just like I said. He heard about us through a client. Word of mouth, E. That’s how it works in this business.” He grins. “I told Marco and he nearly had a heart attack. You know, in a good way.”
Under the bar, Wolfe’s hand finds my thigh. He grips it tight because he knows.
James Andersen is not a real person. Or if he is, he’s a front.
An investor who calls out of nowhere with an offer too good to refuse, wanting to meet in person?
That’s not fucking word of mouth. That’s a setup.
The same kind of setup Dmitri used on me.
You find the pressure point, dangle something irresistible, and wait for the target to walk in, completely unsuspecting.
Except Sal isn’t a hacker being coerced. Sal is a small business owner who just wants to make good food and take care of his people. He doesn’t have the instincts to see this coming. He doesn’t know what a trap looks like because he’s never been inside one.
Not like I have.
“When’s the meeting?” I ask.
“Thursday. He wants to come by the restaurant after close. Just us, casual, talk numbers.” Sal is practically vibrating. “E, this could be it. This could be the thing that takes Rosario’s to the next level.”
“Yeah.” I smile because if I don’t smile, he’ll know something is wrong. “That sounds great, Sal.”
His forehead creases. “You don’t seem excited.”
“I am. I’m just…processing. I mean, you could be the next Mario Batali. It’s a big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal.” He reaches across the bar and squeezes my hand. “Things are finally turning around, E. For both of us. I can feel it.”
My throat closes up. I squeeze his hand back and hold on for a second longer than normal because this man, this beautiful, optimistic, trusting man, has no idea that the thing he’s excited about might actually be designed to get him killed.
“I’m so proud of you, Sal,” I say. And I mean it with everything in me.
“Right back at you, sis.” He squeezes one more time and lets go. “Now eat your bruschetta. Both of you. I didn’t grow the basil for decoration.”
We keep eating because it’s Sal, and not eating is the worst kind of insult for a chef.
But my stomach churns with each bite I take.
Sal talks about the patio expansion, the winter dessert menu, and the new cocktail he’s testing that involves something he calls “smoked rosemary simple syrup,” which sounds disgusting and will probably be delicious.
Wolfe’s hand stays planted on my thigh. His thumb presses into my leg in a rhythm that isn’t his usual tap. It’s slower and steadier, like his own version of Morse code telling me something he can’t say out loud.
I hear it. I hear everything he’s not saying.
We leave an hour later. Sal hugs me again at the door. He really is the world’s best hugger. His arms wrap tight around me like a giant security blanket, and I let my eyes close for a brief second, thanking God I have him in my life.
I need to keep him safe. I need to do whatever is necessary to protect him, just like he’s always done for me.
“Come back soon, okay?” he says against my hair. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” My voice cracks. I clear my throat to cover up any stray emotion because that will definitely tip him off.
And fuck, he heard it. He pulls back and looks at me with furrowed brows. “You sure you’re okay?”
I nod and force a smile. “I’m great, I promise. I’m just happy for you.”
“Okay.” His expression clearly says he’s not buying what I’m selling, but he lets it go because he trusts me. He always trusts me. Because Sal Moreno has never once in his life considered that the people he loves might lie to his face to protect him.
I would know. I’ve been doing it for months.
The second we’re in the car, I turn to Wolfe and in a shaky voice, I say, “James Andersen.”
“It’s Dmitri.”
A shudder ripples through me. I knew it, but hearing Wolfe say it makes it more real. And a fuck ton scarier. “He’s using Sal as bait.”
“Yes.”
“Thursday. After close. The restaurant will be empty. It’ll just be Sal and whoever shows up.” I press my fingertips to my temples. “Wolfe. You know what this is. It’s a kill box.”
He doesn’t answer right away. He just starts the car and pulls away from the curb. His jaw tenses and his knuckles are white on the wheel.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to Sal,” he says through gritted teeth.
“How can you say that?” My voice rises. “How are we supposed to keep him from meeting a guy whom he believes is going to turn Rosario’s into a fucking gold mine franchise?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out.”
He said the same words about the debt. Always so certain even in the face of uncertainty.
But this is my brother’s life we’re talking about. And even if Dmitri doesn’t kill him, he will do something to hurt him because he knows it’ll hurt me.
And again, I’m about to become the cause of my brother’s pain.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
I stare out the window, clenching and unclenching my fists. Outside, the streets become a blur of colored lights. My stomach is in knots and my jaw aches from clenching it so hard.
Sal is in danger because of me. Because I defected to the “enemy” camp. Because I chose the Molloys. Because every choice I make to save myself puts the person I love most at risk.
Wolfe doesn’t speak for the rest of the drive. But his thumb doesn’t tap. His jaw doesn’t twitch. His whole body has gone into that terrifying stillness I’ve only seen once before…right before he threw a man into a brick wall.
Whatever he’s building in that silence, it’s going to either be the thing that saves my brother or the thing that destroys us.
Maybe both.