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Enzo is taking forever in Dunkin’ Donuts.

He told me to stay across the street, but after ten minutes pass, I start to get antsy. What is happening in there?

I wish I had gone with him. I don’t think it would’ve cramped his style too much. Well, maybe it would have. But given it’s my life at stake here, I’d like to know what’s going on.

Finally, I cross the street to Dunkin’ Donuts. The storefront is made of windows, so it’s easy enough to look inside. I peer through the windows, and at first, I don’t see them at all. But then I do. All the way at the other end of the store where people pick up their orders. The two of them are talking together intently. Enzo’s black eyes seem completely focused on hers.

For a moment, I feel a twinge of misgivings. I have always trusted Enzo, but there are times when I’m not entirely sure he’s trustworthy. After all, the reason he left Italy in the first place was because he beat a man half to death. He had a really good reason, at least according to him, but the fact remains. And then he took off to go overseas again, claiming the bad man who was after him met with an untimely demise, although he wouldn’t provide any further information on that.

He told me his mother was sick. She had a stroke. But really, I only had his word to go on. It wasn’t like I ever saw his alleged sick mother.

And then when he came back to the States, instead of giving me a call like any normal person would have, he followed me around for three freaking months, under the guise of protecting me. I told him all the details about the Garrick family. He’s savvy enough to have guessed Wendy was scamming me, even if I didn’t see it. Why didn’t he say anything?

And oh my God, what on earth are they talking about in there for so long?

Now that we are closer, I notice the blond woman has puffy eyes, like she’s been crying. But then she smiles at something Enzo says to her, and her face brightens slightly. It does look fairly innocent, I have to admit. He is very charming when he wants to be. Between his accent and the way he looks, he’s very good at talking to women.

After what feels like another ten minutes, Enzo and the woman exit the Dunkin’ Donuts. He waves to her and says, “ Ciao, bella !” Which makes her blush.

When he sees me standing in front of the shop, he gives me a disapproving look. “I say stay across the street, yes?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “You were in there a long time.”

“Yes, and I know everything now.” He tilts his head. “You want I should tell you?”

I look into Enzo’s dark eyes. This man doesn’t always do everything by the book. Like me, he has done some bad things in his life, although it has always been for the right reasons. I have seen him risk his own life to help women in danger. If there’s anyone in this world that I can trust, it’s him. I should never have doubted him for even a second. “Yes. Tell me.”

Enzo glances down the street at where the woman is ducking into a subway station. “That woman, she is the assistant to Douglas Garrick. And she is the wife of the man you are looking for.”

I stare at him. “Seriously? Are you sure?”

“We will know in a second.” He digs into his pocket for his phone, types something into the screen, scrolls for a moment, then hands the phone over to me. “Is this him?”

The picture on the screen is a headshot from LinkedIn, and I recognize the image immediately. It’s the man who was choking Wendy to death last night. The same man that I shot in the chest. “It’s him,” I gasp.

I read the name of the LinkedIn profile: Russell Simonds.

“As of this morning…” Enzo tugs his phone back out of my hands. “He is alive.”

He’s alive. I didn’t kill anyone after all. The relief I feel is somewhat tempered by the fact that even though I didn’t kill anyone, the police definitely think I did.

“But this morning he went away on… well, his wife says it is a business trip. This man is very busy, she says. Always working late.”

Maybe that’s what they were arguing about that day on the street. Or maybe they were arguing because she suspected he was seeing another woman.

Wendy.

“So now what?” I say. “Do we wait until he returns from his alleged business trip?”

“No,” Enzo says, “now I find out more about this Russell Simonds.”

“How?”

“I know a guy.”

Of course he does.