Page 13 of Saint of the Shadows

“It’s nothing.” Dad grabbed a bottle of cleaner dangling out of a bucket set on the boxing ring. He sprayed down a standing bag and wiped it.

Marisol would not let him off so easily. She followed him at his every move. “Caz is serving multiple life sentences for them, and it’s nothing?”

“Okay, some partners pulled out of the gym, and I’m short on some bills this month. After Caz took the fall for them, Izzy always said he’d look out for us.” Dad threw his cleaning rag to the floor.

“How much?”

“Don’t worry about it!”

“How much?”

“A couple grand.”

She had a little over half of that in her savings. “Two grand? We don’t need them!”

“Easy for you to say, Mare. Your life didn’t fall out from under you!” Dad ran his chubby fingers through his thinning hair.

“Did you even think to ask if I could help you out?”

“I couldn’t do that. I’m not asking my daughter for money.”

“But getting the Westside Shadows hooked more into our lives seemed like a good idea? Are you even hearing yourself?”

“I figured I could use Caz for leverage. Get something out of this miserable muck we’re in.” Dad leaned against the ring. He held his face in his hands. “Just don’t tell your mom.”

“I won’t. I don’t want another murderer in the family.” Marisol left the gym, disappointed yet not surprised to find an empty parking lot. No Tobias. Bad with the good put her life back into that dour balance she always expected. She pulled her hood up and strapped her gym bag tightly across her chest.

She jogged, slipping around crowds with a jump or a climb. At the nearest ATM, she reached her withdrawal limit. She stuffed the wad of cash in her hoodie pocket and boarded a bus that took her deeper into the west side of Shadowhaven. Buildings with hand-painted signs and bars in the window soon became decaying brick mounds covered in graffiti. She hopped off the bus and continued running before reaching a deli.

Dingy yellow, fluorescent lights cast a jaundiced pall over the deli’s worn vinyl booths and peeling pictures of sandwiches. Marisol walked past the counter. A few people recognized her. “Yo Mare!” But she didn’t even acknowledge them as she pushed her way past an Employee’s Only door.

In the back room, Izzy sat at a table with the men who flanked him at the gym. He ate a tortathat left globs of food in the corners of his mouth. One of the bigger men stopped Marisol before she came closer. He flashed the gun in his waistband, a warning to not try anything. It didn’t scare her like they intended. A gun was just a fact, like a patient’s gushing wound. Freaking out about it did nothing.

“She’s cool,” Izzy said.

Marisol stepped up to the table and slammed down a wad of cash. One thousand dollars.

“What’s up, Mare?” Izzy asked, his voice garbled with bits of sandwich.

“That’s part one. I’ll have more for you tomorrow.” She’d squeeze part two from a payday loan. “Don’t come near my family again.”

“Pete came to me.” He wiped his hands on a napkin and eased back in his chair.

Marisol leaned on the table, hovering over Izzy. “Let’s operate like the Novotny men are too stupid to make any decisions. As far as you’re concerned, I’m my dad’s power of attorney. If he does it again, you see me first. I don’t want anyone in my family in your pocket anymore.”

Izzy shook his head. “Girl, you act like you’re above it, but you’re in this. You think your ass got out of this game because you got grit?” Izzy stared at her like a shark circling chum. She said nothing and kept her gaze latched onto Izzy’s. “Nah. People left you alone because Caz earned our respect. Caz got you this life, whether you like it or not. And someday, you’ll be glad you’re in my pocket.”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to shout or throw a punch. Her arm muscle spasmed, and she swallowed while deciding.

But fate made the decision. One of the guard’s cell phones lit up. “Izzy, Teeth Man is at the car shop.”

“Teeth Man?” Izzy wrinkled his nose.

Marisol sighed and headed out of the deli. In the corner of her eye, she caught Izzy and his men unloading a safe with guns.

Outside, the air felt thick. She smelled the change in the atmosphere as flashes of lightning streaked the sky. A storm had arrived, and she needed to head home before work. She ran. Past the graffiti. Past the barred windows. Past the bus stops. Anger fueled her speed. Her feet hit the pavement with power, propelling her faster and farther. Izzy nagged her. She wanted to be free of his grasp. His power. His arrogance. His money. As she ran, she swore she heard angel wings flying above her. What would the Patron Saint do?

At her apartment, she took out Tobias’s business card and called the number while she toyed with the pendant on her necklace. “Detective Quinlan? I think something big is about to go down.”

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