Page 106 of The Mafia's Christmas Baby
Her mouth is free.
Her eyes are not.
She sees me, and all that relief I hate shows up anyway in the muscles at my throat.
“Hey,” I say like this is a kitchen. “You with me?”
She nods once.
Her jaw sends its own message.
Angry.
Good.
Anger is oxygen.
“Knife,” I say.
Tino puts it in my hand handle-first.
I slice the tie and pull her out.
The driver blinks at us through a split lip and decides to try being a hero in front of his boss.
He charges.
I sidestep and let him hug air.
He eats the pillar with his forehead.
The woman goes for a small canister from her cardigan pocket and sprays.
It’s not perfume.
It’s something more creative.
The mist hits my sleeve and stings.
It hits Rafe’s cheek and he laughs like someone told him a polite joke.
He does not enjoy pain the way stupid men do.
He just doesn’t take it personally.
“Into the car,” I tell Elisa.
I want clean lines. S
he isn’t having it.
She spins on the woman.
“You told me not to fight,” she says, voice so calm it burns.
She palms the canister out of the woman’s hand in one swipe and throws it under the sedan.
“Get her out,” the woman hisses at the driver. “Now.”
