Page 12 of Saint of the Shadows

In his eyes, she saw a hint of blue, a reminder of the Patron Saint. And there was that rush of dopamine again. She shifted her weight from side to side and resumed her jabs and hooks. “Your eyes. They change color. What’s up with that?”

“Sectoral heterochromia. They’re brown and blue.”

“That’s a pair of big words coming from a cop,” Marisol said.

“I’m a dumb guy that sometimes stumbles into some smart things.”

“I’m a smart gal who lets quite a few dumb things into my life.”

“Then we’ll get along well.”

As he grunted and sweated, Marisol shivered from the sudden curiosity of the other noises he made when he was worked up. Particularly, what did she need to do to get him to “Hm” in that growling deep voice he put on?

After the workout, Tobias leaned against his green and rusted sedan, draining the last of the contents of an orange sports drink. “I know a food cart eight blocks from here that makes the best cheesesteaks. Whaddya say? You. Me. A couple of beers. Sit along the Riverwalk and watch the lights?”

Marisol twisted the cap on and off her bottle. “You think I’d like street food and beer on a date?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you. I think if I took you someplace where we can’t pronounce half the menu, you’d label me a try-hard dork. I might get a second date if you felt sorry for me. But you, you like things to be real, and I’d really like to take you out for some street food and beers. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Marisol nodded as her curiosity from earlier shimmered below her belly. “I would. When?”

“How about right now?”

Marisol’s face scrunched up. In a couple more hours, her shift would start. Maybe she’d raincheck the beers and dig into the cheesesteak, but she wassoaked in sweat and stunk. She wanted a chance to prove that she could be a knockout outside the ring. Now? It would be all too real. “Maybe some other time—”

“Saturday?”

A night of formal wear and Annie formed into a small disappointment that tugged a tiny fiber of muscle in her chest. “I’m going to Varians’ fundraising ball with my bestie.”

“I’ll tell you what, I got tickets to Rooks’ semi-finals, the Legacy Game, next week.”

Before she could muster an answer, a black Escalade drove into the gym’s parking lot. Four men exited the vehicle. Three men surrounded one, and none came to work out. Marisol recognized the man in the middle with his bald head and sparse mustache above his crookedly molded lips as Izzy, leader of the Westside Shadows. He was the one whose hands stayed clean while Caz served multiple sentences. They entered Dad’s gym.

“That’s Izzy.” Tobias crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

More muscles in her body threatened to snap. “I know.”

“We got some detail monitoring him. Not the greatest guy. But we can’t seem to nab him. These kings are never put in check.”

There was one thing Izzy’s presence meant: Another Novotny man got himself into somethinghe’d have a hell of a time getting out of. “I gotta go.” Marisol pulled her hoodie closer around herself.

“I could come with you. Make sure they don’t cause any trouble.”

“My family is trouble.” Tobias’s clueless face prompted her to continue, “Casimir’s doing multiples up at the Hill for the Shadows.”

“The walking scowl, Caz.”

Marisol grew heavy with shame. “My brother.” She recognized the shock on Tobias’s face. Too much work. “You should go. If they know I’m hanging out with a cop, I don’t know what they’ll do.”

“We all got black sheep,” Tobias said.

Marisol heard him but didn’t listen. She stormed back toward the gym. In the entrance, she crossed her arms over her chest and ground her teeth together.

The Westside Shadows hadn’t stayed long. Marisol watched as Izzy shook Dad’s hand. Although she stepped to the side to not impede them, the men moved around her before they exited, and Izzy made a kissy face. She squeezed herself tighter and refused to look him in the eye. The heat prickling her skin wasn’t her recent cardio, but her blood reaching 212 degrees Fahrenheit. She held her tongue until the Shadows loaded into the Escalade. She turned and stared at Dad, her gaze throwing knives at him.

He put his hands on his hips, his dark eyes shifting and belying his confrontational stance. “What, Mare?”

“What were they doing here?”

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