Page 24 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

Her comment seems so normal. Something we’d discuss when life was sunshine and roses. “I can toast the bread if you want? You always like a bit of crunch.”

“You don’t need to do this.”

I place two slices into the toaster. “You convinced Ciro I can stay here. And I’m wearing your clothes and makeup.”

I escaped with nothing but a silk robe and the contents of my purse: a wallet with my new NY driver’s license and credit cards, my passport, a checkbook, cell phone, touch-up makeup bag, birth control pills, tampons, and a box of Altoids. And keys to an apartment that no longer exists.

But what I lost is irreplaceable—him.

Even if I wanted to, without his full name, I’ll never find him.

You escaped with your life, Riley. Be grateful for that.

I plate two pieces of white bread and spread chicken salad evenly across both.

“What did the police say?” she asks.

“It was a gas leak,” I reply.

“Told you so. They happen all the time.”

The toast pops, and I quickly fix her sandwich, then place the plate before her. She’s right, gas leaks are common. And when I told the police about hearing gunfire, they said it was likely gang activity and under investigation.

I sigh. “You should have heard the gunfire, Em. It sounded like an old spaghetti western.”

“It’s a miracle you survived.”

“Yeah, it is,” I reply softly, taking my sandwich to the table and sitting across from her. The explosion, the gang activity, living and working for a drug addict—New York isn’t for me. Emily was kind to offer me a place to stay, especially with our strained relationship. But Ciro is a disaster, spiraling out of control. Last night, he didn’t even come home. Emily cried most of the night, and I was too shell-shocked to comfort her. Even if I suggest she return to Marietta with me, she’ll just make excuses for him.

But I’m leaving. Fate gave me a firm shake, and I finally woke up. Life is precious, and I’ve wasted enough time merely existing.

“Did you get a police report?” she asks between bites.

“It’s on the counter.”

“Ciro needs to give it to the insurance company for review.” She sighs. “I spoke with him this morning. He’s furious because they want proof he actually owns the building before discussing filing a claim, and his name isn’t listed on the LLC paperwork.” She chews. Clueless. So clueless about the man she’s dating. “Like Ciro would be paying workers under the table to renovate the apartments if it wasn’t his building. Can you imagine?”

Yes. Yes I can. If there’s a corner to cut, her boyfriend has his scissors ready. Except I don’t say this. “Whose name is on the paperwork?”

“Three goombahs who do odd jobs for him, but who have Wall Street connections. Ciro says like attracts like, and that he hopes to rent the refurbished apartments to their broker buddies, who’ll pay top dollar.”

I frown. “So, Ciro doesn’townthe building.”

“Aren’t you listening. He does. He has to prove it to the insurance people, is all.”

Am I surprised? Not in the slightest. It’s only been twenty-four hours, and he’s already submitted a claim. He didn’t returnlast night but is up early to file an insurance claim? I bet he doesn’t even own the building. Those three goombahs better smarten up. Lord knows what this is about or what Ciro’s hiding, but I call bullshit.

Don’t get involved. You won’t be around for the fallout.

With I sigh, I say, “If his name is on the deed, that should solve the problem.”

“The deed. If he can find it…” Emily clasps her hands. “Will you explain it to him?”

I blame it on stress and fatigue, but I grimace.

She sees it right away, and her face flushes with anger. “You know, he could have asked you to check into a hotel.”

My throat tightens. How can she be so callous after what I’ve been through? “He wasn’t here and hasn’t been home.”