Page 2 of Deceptive Vows
I glanced back toward Berto’s corner. He was already moving, Rina’s limp body draped over his shoulder, heading for the side exit.
I shifted, ready to follow. As I did, a stir near the main exit caught my eye—a man with slicked-back hair who, for a moment, I thought might be Marco’s second. But when the neon light caught his face, I saw it was just a pockmarked nobody. Not my target tonight.
My breath hissed out. Sloppy. I’d lost focus on what mattered.
Turning my attention back to Berto, I saw Rina was slipping now, arms dangling. He adjusted his grip, lifting her higher onto his shoulder with a grunt, trying to play it cool as he continued toward the exit.
I was already weaving through tables, myheels silent on the sticky floor. Weight forward. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Mr. Gumdrop was following me. If he got in my way, I’d deal with him after Berto.
I shoved open the back door. The alley was sharp with November air and the stink of vomit. Berto was halfway down with Rina still hanging limp over his shoulder.
“You’re not taking her anywhere,” I said.
He turned, his snarl half-feral. “Mind your business. I’m just taking my old lady home.”
“She’s not your anything. You dosed her.”
“One more step, and you’ll regret it,” he growled, his hand drifting toward his waistband.
I took that step.
“You know who I am,” I said. “And I know who you are. If you put her down now, you’ll limp out of here. If I make you drop her, you won’t leave at all.”
This guy had witnesses. Even if the bar was filled with Morettis, didn’t mean there weren’t loose lips. If I didn’t kill Berto, Marco would. Stupidity was a death sentence in this world.
He twitched.
One heartbeat. Two.
By the third, I was alreadymoving. Knife drawn. Blade familiar, eager. I’d been throwing since I was nine.
The metal caught a flash of light before it buried itself with a wet thunk. Berto gurgled and collapsed. Rina slid down with him.
I knelt, pressed two fingers to her neck. Still breathing. Good.
I didn’t look toward the bar door, but I felt the weight of his gaze still on me.
Mr. Gumdrop was still watching. Not running. Not yelling. Just calm. Comfortable in the aftermath.
Most men would’ve run or called the police. That he didn’t run meant he was either very brave or very familiar with this kind of work. Given the suit and the vodka, I was betting on the latter.
“Hey.” I shook her. “Hey.”
The woman moaned, her eyelids fluttering briefly before falling shut again.
Reaching into my pocket, I fished out my phone, touched the screen, and raised it to my ear. “Can you take care of a body?”
I could practically see Dimi taking a long drag of his cigarette as the familiar sound of a soft inhale followed by an exhale preceded his voice across the line. “I can…”
“Dead Shift—alleyway.”
“Thea…” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t you find a happier, less bloody hobby? One that doesn’t require so much clean-up?”
I shifted slightly in the direction of the exit door and smiled. I was still being watched. “Oh, Dimi, I can’t help that trouble finds me.”
“Right.” He gave another exasperated sigh. “Moretti guy?”
“Maybe. Definitely a bottom-rung loser who drugged a woman. Either way, they won’t miss him. He was too careless. I did them a favor.”
