Tempted by the Sinner

Dante just shrugged. “Who knows. You’d have to ask Steven about that. He runs their former territory and married into their family.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

“I think he has ears in the Jalisco, too,” Dante said. “Or at least someone he can talk to.”

“So I should talk to Steven.”

“That’s what I think.” Dante grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I’m pretty useless.”

“Nah,” I said. “I appreciate the help.”

“And I appreciate the story,” Mona said.

“Any time you want to hear more, come on down here,” Dante said. “There were a lot of guys in that old crew, and I’ve got a lot of old stories.”

“Don’t listen to him,” I said. “He’s full of shit. And anyway, the girl’s all mine, so be careful.”

Mona shot me a look. “I’m not all anyone’s.”

“So you think,” I said and pushed my chair back. “Let’s get going.”

She glared at me but stood and looked back down to Dante. He was grinning, trying not to laugh.

“It was nice meeting you,” she said.

“You too,” he said. “You be careful with this guy, he’s dangerous.”

“She knows,” I said, and walked to the door.

Mona followed as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was bright outside, and it took half a second for my eyes to adjust as Mona moved up next to me.

“I’m all yours?” she asked.

I nodded. “Don’t want anyone to get any ideas.”

“You know you don’t own me. If I want to talk to someone else…” She trailed off.

“You ask first,” I said. “And if you don’t, you might end up stumbling in over your head.”

“Oh, so now you’re protecting me?”

“Exactly,” I said. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but trust me. The guys we’re dealing with are dangerous.”

“Dante seemed nice.”

“Dante is a killer,” I said. “You know that cute, fun story he told? Two weeks after that, we hit up a rival gang’s bar and killed four men. It’s not all fun and games, my little journalist.” I walked to the car and she stayed standing near the door. I looked back at her and tilted my head.

“Is that true?” she asked.

“It’s true,” I said. “And if you write that in your fucking article, I’ll make sure that article never sees the light of day. Now come on, we have to go meet with Steven.”

I climbed into the car and waited a minute. Mona got in the passenger side and didn’t look at me as I started the engine and pulled out.

I felt bad telling her that, but she needed to hear it. She was starting to act like this whole thing was some kind of fun joke, like we were just a bunch of boys playing at being gangsters. For a second, she forgot what she was dealing with.

But I can’t let her forget.

There are real stakes, especially right now.

And she’s buried in it all.12MonaI stared out the window and kept thinking about what he just said.

They killed men.

He just admitted to murder, admitted it right to my face. My heart was hammering in my chest and I felt a little dizzy.

I knew these men were dangerous. I knew they were violent and prone to outbursts. But I wouldn’t let myself think about how far those outbursts could go. I didn’t want to imagine just what they were capable of, just how many bodies they left strewn about behind them.

Vince ran his own crew in New York and he was the son of the mafia boss. That meant he probably had to work twice as hard to earn respect, and fight twice as hard to keep his enemies away. He had a target on his back at all times and even the guys in his own family probably kept him at arm’s length.

These were killers. They could tell fun stories, but Vince was a killer.

I looked up and stared at his face. He watched the road, his expression closed and unreadable. I wanted to reach out and touch him, had the strangest urge to run my fingers down his cheek.

Instead, I stared out the window and tried to keep it together.

Vince didn’t speak as we rolled through the city and into a nice residential neighborhood. We passed a park on the left, kids playing on the swing set, adults sitting on the benches. People walked down the sidewalk, young people, old people, walking their dogs, sitting on their stoops and laughing. I watched people and tried to picture them, tried to picture their lives, but just kept thinking about the dead bodies left in Vince’s wake.

We pulled up to a bar with a wide awning out front that extended over the sidewalk and to edge of the street. It was held up by four poles and a dark green color, though faded with age and ripped and spotted in a few places. Vince parked the car and climbed out.