I stripped off my own gloves and tossed them to her. Cara did the same, though she handed them over with a smile. “Thank you,” Cara said.
“Be careful with this one,” Marie said, glancing over her shoulder at me. “I know lots of men like him. They’re no good, you know?”
“He’s not so bad. Just a little impatient.”
Marie snorted but gathered her things. She gave me the address then left, hurrying outside.
Cara gave me a dirty look as we got into my car.
“Did you have to be an asshole?” she asked.
“Probably not, but I didn’t feel like standing there negotiating terms in some half-cleaned bathroom all day. That bleach stuff gives me a headache.”
She laughed bitterly. “Poor baby.”
I grinned and started the engine.
Marie lived in a row home deep in South Philly. It was a quiet neighborhood, working class, a little rundown, but clean and decent enough. She was already waiting on the stoop and frowned at us, but she opened the door and we stepped inside.
The place was neat and orderly. The walls were painted teal with colorful landscapes hung all over, most of them done in oil, though some in watercolor. A young boy sat on the couch, maybe eleven years old, all skin and bones in a soccer jersey and a flop of dark hair.
“Say hello,” Marie snapped.
“Hello.” The boy smiled.
I almost recoiled. His teeth were a goddamn mess. I looked at Cara who covered her mouth and was trying not to laugh. I rolled my eyes and hefted the duffel bag up my shoulder as I followed Marie into the kitchen.
“Want something to eat?” she asked. “I can make something, no problem. I can do tea, if you want, or—”
I dropped the duffel on the table. The kitchen was cramped, with dirty dishes piled in the sink, but the floors were clean and the counters smelled like lemons.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
Marie grunted and shook her head, but went to the door that led into the basement. “Stay here.” She disappeared downstairs.
Cara leaned up against me. “That kid really needs this,” she whispered. “Can you imagine?”
I grinned at her. “You’re terrible.”
“Hey, this is like charity. You’re saving that kid from a terrible childhood.”
Marie banged around in the basement before coming back up. She had a thick file folder tucked under one arm. It was dark green and creased in a few spots, and I looked at Cara. She licked her lips and nodded.
“That’s it,” she said. “That’s what my dad gave me.”
Marie held it out. “Everything’s there. I didn’t look at it all, but what I saw—” She shook her head. “Nasty stuff.”
“Pretend you never saw it,” I said, taking the folder. I nudged the duffel. “Everything’s in there. A little over three thousand.”
“Thank you.” Marie sounded genuinely grateful. “Jorge’s a nice boy but those teeth, you know? Really bad.”
“He’ll be okay,” Cara said. “Handsome boy like that. Once he’s got a better smile, I bet he’ll attract all the girls.”
Marie rolled her eyes. “Like that’s what we need. I don’t want any stinking great-grandbabies.”
Cara laughed and headed out. I followed her, folder pressed against my side. I was tempted to rip it open and go through it then and there but I held off. I didn’t want the kid to see, and besides, Marie knew too much already. The more we kept from her, the safer she’d be, even if she didn’t realize it yet.
We stepped outside and Marie closed the door behind us. Cara hopped off the stoop, grinning like she’d won the lottery.
“Tell me I’m amazing,” she said, stretching her arms up above her head.
“You’re okay.”
“Say it, Luke. Say I’m amazing. I figured this out like Sherlock Holmes.”
“You’re fine. Like a six out of ten.”
“I’m a pure ten, baby, and you know it.”
I grinned and shrugged. “I’ll bump you to a six and a half for that ass. Maybe even a seven if you start wearing some low-cut shirts.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling as she walked over to the car, practically bouncing on her toes. I followed, marveling at her lean, long legs—and almost didn’t notice the three guys that approached from across the street.
I saw them just a few seconds too late. Maher came around the back of my car and as I turned to him, he whipped out a retractable baton, one of those long, skinny black things made out of titanium. Lightweight, but painful as fuck. He swung it at my leg and slammed it into my thigh. I gasped in pain and barely managed to get the folder up in time to block another blow to my head. I staggered away, limping as Maher came at me.
Cara screamed. Two guys grabbed her. I couldn’t hesitate, couldn’t hold back, because hesitating meant death in this situation. I bulled forward despite the pain in my leg and took another weak blow on my shoulder. I slammed into Maher, knocking him back, then kneed him hard in the gut. I got my elbow up into his throat and knocked him to the ground.