Page 117 of Chicago Sin

Chapter Sixteen

Armando

I double park the van and throw the hazards on. We’re downtown on Saturday because Hannah has to deliver a dozen horse wreaths for the Fourth of July Parade. It’s a fucking zoo, which doesn’t bother me. I like the energy of the city, or at least I used to, back when I felt.

Back when I wasn’t looking over my shoulder every second.

Hannah’s turned on by it, for sure. She’s in this hot as hell white halter dress that makes her tits look edible but has me ready to slam my fist into the first guy who looks at them.

“What are you scowling about?” she asks lightly, piling a huge stack of wreaths into my waiting arms.

“Nothing,” I mutter.

“Bullshit.”

I look around the flowers because it’s not like her to curse, and I realize she’s mimicking me from the other night. She grins.

“Your fucking cleavage,” I admit. “I’m gonna kill the first stronzo who looks at it. And then I’ll have to go back to prison.”

She smiles like I just told her something sweet. “No, you’re not. You’re going to strut your stuff because this”—she indicates her banging body with her hands—“is with you.”

Aw, damn. I’m sort of surprised by the sensation that promise produces. Maybe I really am catching feelings because a sense of approval leaps up when she says it.

Like, damn straight.

I pin her with a gaze. “That”—I give her a sweeping once over—“is mine.”

Just want to get things straight.

She arches her brows. “Oh really?”

I shake my head in warning. “Don’t give me shit. I will lose it. You know how little it would take for me to bust a guy’s face in.”

Her smile grows wider as she pulls out the rest of the wreaths to carry herself. She likes my asshole ways.

Lucky for me, I guess.

We make our way through the gathering crowds. The parade doesn’t start for another two hours, but things are already jam-packed. We find the group that ordered the wreaths and leave them with the person in charge.

“Want to stay and hang around a little bit?” Hannah’s face shines bright. Her crazy curtain of curls swing down her back as she walks, sweeping her butt with each rotation of her sexy hips. She’s happy today—much lighter. She and her BFF Josie had a talk last week, and Josie quit. Or Hannah fired her. But it was on good terms, and Hannah’s mood lifted a ton. I should have known that relationship was weighing on her with all the other problems at the shop.

“You don’t have to get back to the shop?”

She left Josie in charge today—her last day of work, but I know her friend isn’t completely reliable.

“I might as well enjoy the help while I’ve got it,” she says. “I’m going to be working on my own for a few months while I get caught up. This is my last chance to not work on a Saturday.”

I reach for her hand and lace my fingers through hers. I swear some of her joy is seeping in. We walk through the gathering crowd, the sun warm on the top of my head and my shoulders. I stop at a Jamba Juice to buy us smoothies because it’s getting too hot. Music blares from speakers on the streets, people walk by in red, white and blue clothing and face paint.

And then we pass a few guys on the sidewalk. I recognize the tattoos, but I drop my head and keep walking. After a few paces, I steal a look backward.

Fuck. Me.

They stopped and are looking back at me.

I thrust the keys to the van in Hannah’s hand. “Run. Get to the van and wait for me. If I don’t show in twenty minutes, drive home. Forget you knew me.”

“What?” Panic flares in her eyes, but I shove her into the thick of the crowd and take off running the other way—down an alley—praying they don’t try to go for Hannah to get to me.