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Jinx peers up at me before glancing at the miniature town. It’s the first sign of excitement she’s shown, and I can’t believe Mr. Murphy is the one to pull the reaction from her.
I gently press against her back, propelling her closer to Mr. Murphy’s passion project. “Go on. I’m sure Mr. Murphy won’t mind you getting a closer look.”
“Hmph. She ought to do better than that.” He glares at her. “You need to earn your keep. I have a ton of train cars to decorate, you any good at painting?”
Jinx’s head jerks up and down, and Mr. Murphy shoves a train car in her face.
“I’ll get the paint.” He swings around, more spry than when he answered the door. At the threshold, he pauses and looks back. “Thought you said you had somewhere to be.”
“Um, I do.” Yet my body doesn’t instantly move. I’m in awe of the unlikely pair.
“Time is ticking.”
“Right.” I face Jinx, but her attention is on the city and the tiny occupants at various intervals. I bid her goodbye with barely any acknowledgment and leave Mr. Murphy’s home in a daze.
Before heading to City Hall, I collect a few items from my house. I’m not naïve. A meeting with Sansone, even in a place as public as the center of the city, won’t provide me with enough safeguards. But not having Jinx with me as I don weapons meant to pass through the most sensitive security screenings is a blessing.
She’s been exposed to more instruments of violence than a six-year-old should.
I finish my outfit with a curly wig with a bang to obscure my forehead and my infrared glasses. Considering technological advances in facial recognition, a mask and sunglasses aren’t always enough to confuse the models. The tech can now use the shape of a person’s forehead to identify them. Although being black gives me an advantage because the faces used to train the models are predominantly white, I won’t take a chance that may expose me to more than Sansone’s scrutiny.
There’s still someone else out there looking for me, and probably Jinx.
When I arrive at City Hall, I find Sansone waiting for me. Today, he eschews the suit for business casual attire. He wears a crisp electric blue shirt with the first three buttons open, providing a tempting view of his strong throat. A pair of black slacks sits on his hips, and molds to his thighs. He also wears a pair of shades, but not for the same reason I do.
Sansone doesn’t fear being identified for who he is or what he does. He wears his confidence as a natural accessory to the rest of his outfit, and it is appealing. From a purely esthetic perspective. Watching him from this distance isn’t playing havoc with my senses. I’m too level-headed to be caught up by a handsome face and physique.
No matter how much I remind myself of this, my body has other ideas. My pulse doubles its beating as anticipation for our face-to-face grows. Fed up with myself, I stride forward. As soon as I round the pillar I stood behind, Sansone homes in on me. There’s no way he can recognize me in this disguise. My wig obscures most of my face that the glasses don’t. Only my mouth, nose, and chin should be visible, but without the rest of my face for context, he shouldn’t be able to identify me.
Yet he strides toward me with all the confidence I clocked earlier, a stormy frown growing on his face. He grabs my elbow and steers me toward the exit.
Once I shake off the shock of him identifying me, I pull my arm from his hold before he can tighten his grasp.
“Zakiya, I’m not in the mood for games. I want my daughter, and considering you’re not with her, she must be outside where anyone could snatch her.”
“Do you think I would have brought her anywhere close to you after she heard you threaten my life? She’s somewhere safe.”
With my reassurance, the tightness around his mouth relaxes. “She needs to be with me.”
“That is yet to be determined. I’ll be honest with you Mr. DeLuca, you made a horrible first impression, and I’m not inclined to give you a second chance to prove what I already know. You’ll be a horrible father to Jinx.”
His nostrils flare, but he represses his murderous rage. “This isn’t the place to discuss my failings as a father.”
“There’s a cafeteria on this floor with seating that’s always busy. No one will pay attention to us, and we can discuss your options.”
“Options,” he mutters in disgust. “Lead the way.”
As he walks behind me, my skin begins to tingle as if he’s touching me. But that can’t be the case. A man as angry as he is would throttle me rather than caress me. The feeling discomfits me, and I increase my pace, wanting to get through this ordeal sooner.
To avoid speculation, we order food from the self-service cafe and select a table.
“Where is Jinx?”
“Before we get to that, why did you change your mind?”
He sits back in his seat and rests his arm on the chair back beside him. After contemplating me with heavy regard, he looks toward the busy hallway outside the cafeteria window. “You. You’re a ghost who popped up out of the blue with my child, claiming to be her nanny. Your story stinks, and I want Jinx nowhere near it.”
I tilt my head as I run his words through my mind. His story is plausible, but I sense he’s holding something back. Also understandable. Mob bosses aren’t known for their transparency.
