Page 51 of Taking Care of the Target

“I should’ve never brought you here,” Vince said, easing off the accelerator. “Let me take you back to where the buildings didn’t look like death traps. You can set up in a library or a coffee shop, and I’ll come—”

“I’m here already,” she said. “And I’m not gonna let you leave me behind. Let’s just get it done and then get out.”

She had to be scared, but she put on such a brave front. He kept thinking about how she’d said it was incredible they’d found each other. Even taking away the reason he searched her outafterher accident, itwasamazing they’d found their way to each other in the first place.

They couldn’t be more different, yet there were things that tied them together, more than just losing their parents. When he was with her, he felt a strong sense of purpose. She put things in a way that made sense to him, and even in the quiet moments, something inside of him spoke to her. The girl had gotten under his skin and let loose every emotion he tried to hold back, and instead of shying away from them or backing off, she understood and pulled him closer.

He reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. He was still tempted to flip a U and get her out of there, even though he knew she’d put up a hell of a fight. He should’ve had Bobby meet them, but he was too worried someone would see him, and then he’d be dragged in to his drug dealer before Vince got to New York. Then they’d both be screwed.

“You haven’t said much about your security job,” she said. “Are you still thinking that’s the way you want to go?”

Since right now his security job washer, he didn’t know how to answer. As for the second question, if Carlo thought this stunt with Bobby would make him more eager to jump into the mafia, he was sorely mistaken. He gripped the wheel tighter, careful not to do the same with the hand holding Cassie’s. “Because of the nature of my job, I can’t really talk about it.” Truth mixed with lies. More guilt—you’d think he’d be used to it by now, but every damn time he had to give her half-truths it came. Add driving into the middle of the ghetto for his brother, and self-loathing quickly followed on guilt’s heels, wanting a turn at him. “I do miss restaurant management some, but I’m good at the security side. It all depends on how my current job goes, really.”

“That makes sense.” She looked out the window at the decrepit buildings. “If I go to the Culinary Institute of America in New York, maybe I can afford a place here. What do you think? A nice wreath on the door and it’ll be as good as new, yeah?”

A surge of affection wound through him; she could make even the shittiest situations better. “A wreath.That’swhat’s missing.”

“You’ll come over, right?”

“Depends on the wreath,” he said, and she laughed, the happy noise echoing through his chest. God, he was going to miss her when this was all over. Just the thought made a pit open up in his gut, sucking all happiness into it.

“I think that’s it,” Cassie said, checking the map on her phone and then pointing at the building up ahead.

The apartment complex looked like it’d been made from cement and scrap metal, more industrial than homey. Cardboard stood in place of glass windows and there was more spray paint than original paint on the walls. Vince put the Jeep in park but kept the engine running.

Cassie rubbed soothing circles over his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I love your optimism, baby, but…” His gaze drifted out the windshield again. “I didn’t expect this.” He shook his head. “I had no idea he…” A lump rose to his throat, and he fought for control, unsure whether to hold on to the regret or switch back to anger.

Vince reached over Cassie and pulled his .40 caliber Beretta out of the glove box. He looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to pull it out until they talked to the guys Bobby owed—Cassie would definitely be tucked away for that—but he didn’t dare go into a place like this unarmed.

“I actually feel better knowing you have it,” she said, answering his unasked question.

He curled his fingers around the door handle. Last second he spun back to Cassie, who was already starting out her door. She turned at the hand on her arm, and he tugged her to him and planted a hard kiss on her lips. “Stick close to me, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, and then they climbed out of the Jeep.

The rickety metal staircase creaked as they made their way up it to the second floor. Vince stopped in front of the door with a chipped thirteen on it and knocked.

“Unlucky number thirteen,” Cassie muttered.

Vince shifted her behind him and drew his gun, just in case they met someone else looking for Bobby instead.

The door cracked open, the chain on the inside lock pulling tight, and Bobby peeked out. “Jeez, Vince, put the gun away before you kill somebody.”

The door closed, the mock wood muffling the sound of the chain sliding free before Bobby swung the door all the way open. Taking hold of Cassie’s hand, Vince cast one more glance around and led her inside.

***

Cassie couldn’t help staring at Bobby. He and Vince had such similar features, only Bobby’s were pinched and pale, and he was too skinny, his cheeks sunken in. Even though he was younger than Vince, he looked older by several years, and the whole effect was eerie.

“So, this is what you’ve been up to lately,” Bobby said, looking Cassie up and down and eliciting a low growl from Vince. He extended a hand and shot her a smile that softened his features and hinted at the charm hidden underneath the strung-out appearance. “I’m sure you’ve heard about me, the no-good brother. I’m Bobby.”

“Cassie,” she answered, shaking his hand.

“Sorry you got dragged out here, Cassie.” Bobby furrowed his brow and turned to Vince. “Why the hell did you bring her? It’s not exactly a nice area.”

“I didn’t realize you lived in a crack den now. Silly me. I mean, seriously, Bobby. Has it gotten this bad?”

---