THE OLD NEIGHBORHOODS
Andrew's Pov
Fabrizio is here ten minutes after Angel leaves. Ten minutes I’m left alone with my thoughts, and new ones of Angel somehow dead in a ditch.
But I know she's not. Because I've called Ian twice and he's breathing on the other end.
I send Kiernan a text as I walk downstairs, my fingers hammering out the instructions in a sterile tone. “Push any meetings that you can. Anything critical, delegate. Have anything that needs to be signed on my desk tomorrow. Don’t call even if the building’s on fire. Someone else can handle it.”
My phone pings back before I’ve even locked the screen. I swipe the notification away, not even opening it. Keirnan can handle the affairs of my empire for one day and we both knew it. I'll be back tomorrow.
I slide into the car, easier than I got out of it yesterday, even though my back is from how I slept last night. Fabrizio glances at me in the rearview mirror but has the good sense to stay quiet, with my tone. He already knows where we're going.
I open my email, flipping through documents with less precision than I usually do but definitely not carelessly. We drive for a while, and I only look up away from my phone when I feel the road getting quieter, bumpier.
I look outside the window at buildings that progressively get smaller like toes in a feet. It's not long after that I feel us crossing that unseen line, the border between my old life and the one I clawed my way out of, Sebastian in back.
It hasn't changed a bit. I can taste the old ghosts in the air.
“Stop,” I say before Fabrizio can drive us past a broken chain-link fence. It's basically a landmark at this point, and it would be crazy to take my type of car deeper. I can already see eyes.
He glances at me, confusion flickering in his eyes, like he wants to ask what we’re doing here. But he doesn't, and that's why he's worked for me this long, even when I don't take him on these types of things; he knows when to let his questions remain behind his teeth.
“I’ll call you to come get me in an hour. Maybe less.”
He gives me a single nod and I get out, waiting until I can't hear the car's hum before I spin on my heels.
I don't dally. Hands deep in the pockets of my hoodie, I start walking. The air smells like stale oil, wet concrete, and the stench of something that will never completely wash out.
My hoodie is big, big enough to hide the gun snug against my ribs in its shoulder holster. The jeans I'm wearing are a few years old at this point, but they still cost more than the apartment we lived in here. And even with how careful I'm being, my sneakers still scuff against the broken sidewalk.
I pass that old building; bricks still stained with piss and graffiti that was there when we moved in. The windows are new, but the rust around the frames tells me it’s still the same inside.
Sebastian chose this place for a reason; absolute secrecy. You can find anything here and know your business will never leave Downtown.
The café is new. It definitely wasn't here when we lived here and the sign says ‘Coffee’ in fresh paint. The doorbell jingles when I walk in, a cheery little sound.
It attracts six pairs of eyes from their mugs and paperbacks and battered laptops. Five of them drop right back down after quickly assessing me.
I have no doubt they'd be able to identify me from a lineup of fifty. You don't live too long without being hyper aware of your surroundings and for the next few days that information might be useful.
The sixth pair of eyes follow me as I walk to him. Sebastian is tucked into the booth at the far back facing the door, corner seat so no one can sneak up behind him.
I slide into the booth across from him, knowing he has my back. Despite the nerves twisting in my gut, I can’t help the smil that pulls at my mouth. “Hey.”
He leans over, one hand outstretched. His grip is warm, and it grounds me a little.
“Hey,” he echoes, eyes glinting under the brim of his battered cap. He looks good under there, thankfully. “What did you want to talk about that you couldn’t do over an encrypted burner?”
“I just wanted to see how much bigger your big forehead got. Is that a crime?”
He snorts a dry, nasal laugh that makes the couple at the next table glance our way. He leans back, drumming his fingers on the scarred tabletop. “No, I guess not. But I do need your help.”
Of course he knows. That’s the only reason I'd be in this God forsaken place. “I do. I left a lot of things behind when I left Downtown, and it looks like you didn't.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “Come on, Andrew. You know you're supposed to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. You taught me that. Contacts here are worth their weight in blood.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I just didn't want to need them anymore. I'm clean now. I've left that behind. Or so I thought.”
Sebastian nods. “What do you need?”
I look around, the other patrons busy with their own stuff or doing a good job pretending to be. I drop my voice even more. “First, do you still live here?”
He shakes his head, reaching for this coffee cup. That must taste like battery acid. “Nope. I just came back when I heard good old Dad was in town. Stayed for you. And then him again.”
I sit up straighter. “He’s still here?”
The idea alone makes my hackles rise. That man doesn’t sit still, not when he knows his kids know where he is. He’s a ghost. He has to be, we made him a promise, one he knows we intend on keeping. “Why? What’s he doing in the city?”
Sebastian just shakes his head, lips pressed into a tight line. “Haven’t found out yet.”
“Christ,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Okay, we'll circle back to that. I need you to find two numbers. Can you do that?”
“Probably,” he nods, reaching for my outstretched phone.
I slide it across the table. “They’re probably burners, may have already been tossed. But I want you to try.”
“Who do they belong to?”
“I think the owner is part of the people who shot at me,” I clear my throat, steeling myself for his reaction. “There’s a woman-only outfit here in the city, close to the end of the supply chain for the guns they used. I can identify a few of them but that's all I could find out.”
His eyes sharpen, zeroing in on me. “You went back to look?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. I know he hates that, hates me using my magic in general for what it does to me.
His jaw ticks, the muscle in his cheek popping like he’s chewing on the next sentence. Last time I went back looking, I nearly didn’t come out. And when I did all I brought was a pile of bad, painful revelations.
“And how are you feeling?”
“Fine. Just need a little sleep, that's all.” And because I know he's going to ask, I add. “Doctor Greg looked me over.”
At the mention of the doctor's name, Sebastian's shoulders relax. We trust that man with our health, always have. Maybe too much now, I think amused, since his eyesight is leaving him.
“Okay,” he nods. “Did the bastard say anything when he called? Did he have an accent?”
My mirth doesn't last for long when he unknowingly reminds me of how messy everything is getting. My mouth goes dry. “He knew my name, Seb.”
For a split second he doesn't know what I'm talking about. But then he does, the breath leaves him in a harsh sound. He knows what that means, especially as they're already coming after me.
“I’ll look,” he says, no hesitation. “And I'll find him.”
I nod, gratitude burning hot behind my chest. “Keep me updated. And you stay safe.”
“Always.” He stands first, claps my shoulder once, and slips out through the back door.
I linger only long enough to drop a twenty for his coffee, then step back into the street.
I hope Sebastian can find what I need.
Because while there are other people I could ask, I'd rather not. I’d rather not owe t
hem anything.
Those hyenas sink their teeth into you, and you don't escape without leaving some flesh behind.