Her eyes got wide. “Your boss?”
“That’s the one. Get up and get dressed.”
I left her room and went downstairs. I poured some coffee and sat in front of the TV. The news talked about some gas explosion in the suburbs, about car jackings and a cop that got shot but miraculously survived, but I tuned it all out. I kept thinking about Leigh and her lips and her shop and the men that tried to kill her.
The place was a wreck. I hadn’t let her see it yet. One of the idiot motorcycle fucks had piled up all the shirts on top of a couch and set them on fire. When I got there, a toothless fuck was pouring water on top of it and talking to himself. I took him out with a single shot to the brain.
But the shop was fucked. The fire didn’t spread too much and my guys were able to come in with fire extinguishers and put it all out. The couch made a ton of smoke, probably since it was old as hell and way too flammable. That smoke seeped into all the shirts, which meant even those that didn’t get burnt were still destroyed.
The guys gutted the place and were airing it out. Next week, we’d have to rebuild.
I didn’t know how to break it to her. So I was waiting until I had a better idea of how to move forward.
She came downstairs twenty minutes later wearing a pair of light jeans and a top that hugged her chest. Her hair was piled up on top of her head and she leaned against the bannister with an odd expression on her face.
“What? You’re giving me some look.”
“I’m just trying to understand how bad things are right now.”
“They’re not bad.”
“You killed a guy.”
I waved that off. “He’s just another body at the bottom of the Schuylkill right now.”
“I don’t want to hear that.”
“And yet it’s true. What else do you want to know?”
“That gang. The Jackals. Are they going to come back?”
“They might.”
She seemed to accept that. “And this meeting with Hedeon. Why are you bringing me?”
“Because you’re a part of it.” I stood up and stretched. “You want coffee before we go?”
She didn’t move. “Come on. You don’t do things without a good reason.”
“You were there when they attacked. And to be honest, I want Hedeon to meet you.”
“Why?”
“Because if shit gets worse, I want him to know that you can be trusted.”
She frowned and tried to process that. “You think… he’d kill me? If things got bad?”
“He might suspect you of something. I want to assuage him before we get to that point.”
“Owain…”
“I get it. This is rough. You didn’t sing up for this. But unfortunately, this is the reality on the ground right now and you’re going to have to start accepting it.”
That pissed her off. I knew it would. I smiled a little as anger flashed over her face.
“I am accepting it. I’m accepting that you’re blackmailing me into being a drug dealer for you. I’m accepting that my store, my freaking life’s work, is practically in ashes right now. What I’m not accepting is you putting me in the middle of some war I didn’t even know about.”
“Now you know.”
“Asshole. What’s wrong with you?”
“You want a fucking list?” I stepped toward her, heart beating fast. I sipped my coffee and stared down into her pretty, defiant eyes.
“I want you to be honest with me.”
“I’m bringing you because I think you’re useful, and I want Hedeon to meet you. That’s all there is.”
She clenched her jaw. “Fine. I want some coffee.”
I nodded my head toward the kitchen. “Be my guest.”
She stormed off. I watched her go, stared at her ass, felt my anger wane.
It wasn’t her fault. She was still dealing with the trauma of those fucks breaking in, smacking her around, scaring her to hell, then getting killed. She’d been through a lot in the last couple weeks, and I knew she was doing her best to keep up.
But the girl needed to do better. Shit was about to get more difficult, and I could hold her hand through it all.
Even if that was what I wanted.
She was silent on the drive over. I parked outside of a plain rowhome on Mt. Vernon Avenue in Fairmount. It was a family neighborhood and a couple young kids, maybe ten or eleven, rode bikes along the sidewalk. An older couple sat on a stoop nearby listening to Salsa music. I turned to Leigh and gave her a second to look around.
“Hedeon’s not what you expect,” I said.
“How do you know what I expect?”
“You’re picturing a mob boss. But that’s not what he is.”
“But he’s the boss of a mafia, right?”
“Trust me. Try and forget your preconceived notions, alright?”
She shrugged. “I’ll do my best.”
“And be polite.” I opened my door. “This is his home.”
She gave me a weird look but got out. The sidewalk was twice as wide here as in other places in the city. I nodded at the woman with her husband and she gave me a nice smile as I walked up to Hedeon’s door.
I knocked and waited while Leigh lingered a few feet away. She seemed confused by the family and the kids riding their bikes
Hedeon answered a few seconds later. He was tall, broad shoulders, light eyes. Reddish blonde hair covered his chin and cheeks, which was a new look for him. His hair was a little too long and swept to the side. He wore a pair of round glasses and a shawl collar cardigan.
He looked like a rough but handsome college professor. Nobody would guess that he was the head of the second most powerful crime family in the city.
“Owain,” he said. “And you brought a guest.”
“Hedeon.” I shook his hand then stepped aside. “This is Leigh.”
“Nice to meet you.” Hedeon smiled at her and extended his hand.
For a second, I thought
