Page 108 of The Mafia's Christmas Baby
She nods. “They staged a drill. They said clipboard words. One called me by my name like he owned it.”
He turns the weight of his gaze on the woman.
“Ma’am, please tell me your dentist’s name.”
The woman blinks. “What?”
“Just checking it’s yours,” he says. “You can get anything printed these days.”
The driver looks at the van like it will sprout wings.
It doesn’t.
He tries to take two steps the other way and runs into Rafe, who is a wall with a pulse.
I want to hit something.
I don’t.
Hitting is what you do when you don’t have an answer.
I turn to Elisa.
“We’re going to my car,” I say. “You’re seeing a doctor. Then you’re going home with me.”
“No,” she says, sharp as glass.
I look at her.
She looks back like she doesn’t care that I just opened a car like a can.
Her hands shake, then stop.
She lifts her chin and the day gets a spine.
“No,” she repeats.
“I’m not your package. I’m not riding in your car. I’m not going to your house like a thing you file.”
“You were almost taken because of me,” I say.
There’s no nice way to cut that sentence.
She flinches once in the eyes. Then she sets her jaw.
“I was almost taken because men like you call this city a board. You move pieces and you think you can do it without knocking anyone over. I’m done being your clean move.”
Tino glances at me like I’m supposed to say something wise.
I have nothing clean left.
“Elisa,” I say, softer.
“Let me get you checked.”
“I threw up before the clipboard,” she says.
“I can tell when my own body is fine. It knows my voice. It doesn’t need you to translate.”
