Page 13 of Dagger

My lips curled into a small smile. “So what you’re saying is that you really like cheese?”

She giggled. “It’s so good, Dad. And gooey. It’s fun to eat.”

“I never really thought about it as fun, but I guess you’re right.” And I knew exactly the type of pizza to impress a nine-year-old.

***

The best pizza place in town wasn’t much to look at from the outside, just a small storefront with a burgundy awning with white handwritten cursive announcing Mancini’s Pizzeria. The front was a brick façade, broken up by a giant window with a spray painted image of pizza and meatballs, the restaurant’s specialty dishes. “We’re here.”

Dani looked through the windshield and smiled. “It’s cute.”

“Cute,” I snorted. “Such a girl thing to say.”

She giggled again. “I am a girl.”

“Oh right.” I killed the engine and got out, rounding the car to help Dani, who’d already jumped from the car. “Ready?” I held out my hand to her, smiling when she accepted it without the usual wariness.

Inside, Mancini’s Pizzeria was busier than usual, but there were a few empty tables and one booth which overlooked the street. We claimed the booth and went over the menu together.

“Do you like peppers, Dad?”

It was an innocent enough question, but it was yet another reminder of all the ways I failed her. Pizza topping preferences was something we should already know about each other, since we clearly loved pizza so much. “Yes and no. Ilike spicy peppers and roasted peppers, but not regular ol’ bell peppers.”

“I like ‘em grilled,” she offered. “They taste kinda sweet when they’re grilled. I don’t know.” She shrugged with a shy smile.

“Let’s do grilled peppers and I’ll get spicy peppers on the side.”

“Can I try one?”

“Of course, but they might be too hot for you.” I hoped not because I wanted to share more things with her. The server, a pimple-faced boy who couldn’t be older than twenty, stopped at the table with a friendly smile. “We’ll have thequattro formaggipizza with grilled peppers and sausage, and a plain Caesar on the side. Thanks.”

Dani’s brows crinkled in confusion. “What’squattro formaggi?”

I smiled and pointed to the item on the menu. “What’s it say?”

Her eyes widened in wonder, and she looked so much like her mother before the crazy set in. “Four cheeses?”

I nodded. “That’s what it means, four cheeses. In Italian.” I smiled as Dani tested the words out on her tongue, again and again until she felt confident that she was saying it correctly.

“Quattro formaggi,” she said one last time with a satisfied smile. “I like it.”

As the meal wore on, conversation came easier, but it was still like a bad fucking first date. It was nothing like she’d been with the teacher she’d only known for a few weeks.

“How’s the pizza?”

Dani looked up and flashed a greasy smile at me. “So good. All the cheeses taste different.”

By the time the leftovers were packed and the bill was paid, Dani was half asleep, leaving me to carry her and the box to the car.

The drive home was dead silent, and I was half tempted to swing by Sinclair’s house just to check on her, but I couldn’t risk Dani waking up, so I dropped her at home first, tucking her into bed and kissing her forehead good night before I headed back out, telling Callie I had some business to deal with at the clubhouse.

The lights were still on in Sinclair’s house, which meant she was still awake. It wasn’t surprising since it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet, but I smiled when I spotted her in pink and green pajamas as she curled up on the sofa with a large glass of red wine and her e-reader.

Damn woman needed to invest in blinds. How was it that in this day age anybody, let alone a woman, could relax in their home without shielding themselves from the outside world? I’d have to have a talk with her. At least I would when I figured out how. What the hell could I say to her that wouldn’t make me sound like a creepy stalker?

I had to do something, dammit. I’d spent the past few nights watching her watcher. After I spooked him the first time,I’d been in two minds about jumping the asshole. But there was something in his manner that was too cocky, too confident, and I wondered exactly how he knew her. So instead of beating his sorry ass, I decided I needed to find out more about him.

I managed to get a few profile shots of the asshole, but he knew what he was doing, managing to mostly stay in the shadows. Slate had the photos and was using them to try to identify him. He was comfortable watching her, confident that he wouldn’t be noticed.

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