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My blood freezes. I’d been hoping nothing would come up. “Who did you see? What happened?”
“Just a sleazy guy waiting outside the place where she works. He followed her when she got out, but did nothing.”
Fuck.
“Think your girl is in danger?” Apples asks.
My girl. Those two words shouldn’t make me feel so warm inside. She isn’t mine.
“What do you think?” I trust Apples’ instincts. “Is she?”
She glances back at the boys training, then at the wall. Stalling. “Maybe.”
“What is it? What did you notice?”
“Tats.”
My mind immediately flashes to the hand tattoo that’s engraved in my memory, and I rub my eyes, as if that can erase the image. “What tats?”
“Prison tats.” She licks her lips, takes a step back. “At least Mage says they are.”
Mage is another of my street kids, good friends with Apples. “And he knows, how?”
She shrugs. “His family has been more in jail than out of it.” Another furtive look at the guys training, and she turns to leave. “Gotta go. See ya, Rafe.”
“Wait.” When she doesn’t stop, I jog to get in front of her. I know better than grab her from behind. Her triggers are worse than mine, and her reactions even more violent. “What about the other matter—the fight club?”
She stops, regards me with a deep frown. “That place’s guard won’t let anyone near the door, much less me or Mage. But there are rumors.”
“Rumors.” She’s pulling on my last shreds of patience. “Like?”
“Like, there’s a man with a hand tattooed on his arm. A patron of the club. Drops by sometimes, when he’s in Madison.”
My vision goes red for a second, and I have to stop myself from grabbing Apples and shaking more details out of her.
He’s here. Right fucking here. I was right. “What’s his name? What else did you find out?”
“Listen, boss…” Her apple-green eyes search my face, clear and honest. “I’d let this go if I were you. They say he’s Cosa Nostra.”
***
Cosa Nostra. Sicilian mafia. My dad’s family, the Vestris, are Sicilians. Dad hated the mafia with a passion.
I stare at Apple’s small form as she slips out of the gym and closes the door without a sound.
Doesn’t make a difference, one way or another. With the Russian mafia running the club, I’ll be heading straight into the lion’s den anyway.
I still need to find a way in.
Looks like I’ll have to push harder, get in touch with one of the more violent street gangs and promise a favor in exchange for an in. Could work. No idea what I could promise them. All I know is, I have to get my hands on this guy.
Can’t sit on my hands and wait when I finally have him. What if he turns tail and leaves? How will I find his trail again?
Dammit. Even the prospect of losing Damage Control pales in the face of failing to catch this asshole, face him at long last. It’s been on my mind for so long, all other thoughts take second place.
Except Megan. I just can’t get her out of my head.
“Yo, Z-man.” I wait until Zane looks up from where he’s in deep conversation with the owner of the gym, Peter, and jerk my thumb at the door.
