Page 18 of Corrupted By the Shadow King (Hope Runs Deep #3)
Alex
M y fingers tighten around the handle of the shopping cart, and I push off the balls of my feet, shoving it down the first aisle.
The front wheel squeaks, wobbling against the floor.
“ Meirda .” I told Ricky this was a bad idea, but he can be persuasive when he wants to be.
Someone discreetly checking out the businesses in the zone surrounding King Construction isn’t the worst idea he’s had.
When you want to talk about money or the future of the company, you go to the CEO.
However, when more useful information is needed, things you can only find out at the ground level, you address the worker bees.
In the end, I decided to take his idea and run with it, which means I’m the one snooping around the grocery store.
People talk to each other when they think no one else is listening.
You can find out a lot of information simply by standing around and pretending to be shopping.
This is my first time visiting this small shop.
It is quaint and charming with walls adorned with pictures and decorations that appear old and worn, but they add to the ambiance of the store.
This is a family owned and operated business like several others are along the strip across from the build site.
The front wheel squeaks, wobbling against the white linoleum floor, and the cashier’s eyes are on me at once.
I shrug at her and glare at the cart when I’m out of her sight.
Two minutes in, I ditch the noisy thing and grab a basket instead.
I’m here to blend in and hopefully, gather information as locals chatter about the dead body, not draw attention to myself.
I even changed my clothes and came dressed in jeans and a t-shirt because a suit would stand out too much.
I thought I was doing a satisfactory job except for the damn cart.
As I make my way through the store, periodically picking up an item to read the label, making it look like I’m actually shopping, I notice a handful of people are clustered together around a table of apples in the produce section at the end of the aisle.
I make my way toward them, leisurely strolling at an unhurried pace, casually smiling at people when I catch their eye.
Passing a petite woman with long dark hair, I silently nod to acknowledge her when her stare lingers on me a little longer than I like.
Her cheeks flush a light pink color, and I can still feel her looking at me when I turn my head away from her, breaking eye contact and continuing my rounds, moving closer to the small group.
I pluck a random tomato from the back of the pile, pretending to inspect it as if its quality is of concern to me. Out of my peripheral vision, I take notice of each person standing in the group, in case one of them has valuable intel and we need to look further into them.
Another woman laughs, nodding her head in my direction.
Her eyes shift from the first lady to me, and then back to her.
“Ya know, he looks like one of those guys from where they found that body. I heard she wasn’t the only one.
I wonder if he’s the one who killed her.
” Her tone is hushed, but she either intends for me to hear her, or she is one of the people who can’t whisper to save their lives.
I lift the tomato, giving it a light squeeze, and briefly shift my attention to the woman.
If I have to guess, I would say she is in her mid-forties to fifties and attractive with tattoos covering her skin.
The word “ Princepessa ” is inked in faded black letters across her chest. An Italian princess?
I highly doubt it, given her lack of accent, but I could be wrong.
Angel and I have mastered the art of watering down our own inflections when necessary, allowing us to sound as American as any of these people, but when he’s upset, he loses all ability.
“He’ll hear you, Google,” the first woman tuts, lightly elbowing the other in her side. I act as if I don’t hear her, moving through the department unbothered by her accusation. Returning the tomato to the cooler, I glance at my watch as I linger to wait out their conversation.
“Don’t call me that,” the Italian princess sneers, glaring at the other woman.
“When you stop telling everything you know, I will.” She glances at me and bites her lower lip, her eyes raking down my body and back up again. I see the desire in her eyes. “He doesn’t look like those guys. Look at how he’s dressed.”
“Put him in a suit and he looks just like the guy who was talking to the cop earlier. Bet they are related in some way.”
“Nah. That was a thousand-dollar suit. Those clothes look like they came from some dumpster.”
That hurt. Almost all of my clothes are brand-name, and while these are some of my older threads, they are not that bad.
The Italian princess rolls her eyes. “You know, you’re right.”
Linking her arm with the princess’s arm, the first woman pulls her toward me. “Overlook her. She’s a shit with a big mouth but is still a total sweetheart. I promise she’s harmless and didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry if we did. Isn’t that right?” She uses her elbow to nudge her friend again.
“I didn’t. I’m sorry. Besides, you’re too good-looking to be a murderer.” The Italian princess snickers and winks.
I bite the inside of my lip and smile at them, swallowing the laugh bubbling inside me.
If she only knew how wrong she was. “No problem. I guess you’ve never heard the phrase ‘killer good looks.’” I casually quip, turning away from them before either of them can reply.
I have no interest in continuing the conversation or entertaining the woman’s attempts at flirting with me.
There’s only one woman I want to give my attention to, and she is not them.
Pulling out my phone, I quickly find the number she gave me at lunch the day before and open a new text thread.
Me: Hermosa , would you mind joining me for a real date?
Nikki: Sure. I would love to. What did you have in mind?
Me: If you’re free tonight, how does dancing sound to you?
Nikki : It sounds wonderful, and I’m available. What time should we meet?
Me: Be ready at 6, and I’ll come get you.
Me: Oh, and could you give me your address, so I know what to put into the GPS?
I don’t know if she realizes I have all of her information or not—she probably does since I just happened to show up at the hospital where she works yesterday—but this is a date, and I want to do everything properly for once in my life. It might be the only time I do.
Nikki: Of course. Sounds perfect.
She sends me her address, but I know it by heart.
I’ve read the dossier we have on her more times than I’m too proud to admit.
I stand there for a few more minutes, but everything they are saying is second-hand or something I’ve already heard from talking to my brother and the cops. I don’t need to stay here any longer.
Deciding to leave the store, I walk quickly down the aisle to the door, the faces of the customers blurring as I pass them. I don’t pay anyone any attention. My mind is already busy making plans as I drop the basket on top of the stack beside the door.
“ Mi casa ,” I murmur to Ricky after informing him the outing was mostly useless. “People know about what happened and were talking about it, but no one landed on my radar. They regurgitated what we already know,” I add when he narrows his eyes, glaring at me in the rearview mirror.
He nods. “I figured as much, but someone knows something of worth.”
“ Sí , I’m sure you’re right, but I’m certain the people in there aren’t the people we need to talk to.”
I stare out the window, not looking at anything particular. The only thought I have is Nikki writhing beneath me with my lips locked onto hers.