Chapter 2 - The Cracks in the Armor
Morning light was unforgiving. It poured through the bulletproof windows of Leo's study, exposing dust drifting in the air like fallen ash. Leo sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A cold cup of black coffee sat beside his elbow. His temples throbbed. Two hours of sleep. A new record for the week.
Carmine stood on the other side of the desk. He was built like a cinder block, with a thick neck and a face that appeared to have encountered too many swinging doors. He was loyal and productive, running protection rackets downtown, but he was also painfully lacking in finesse.
“The shipment got held up at customs, boss. They're asking for double the usual tariff. New inspector. Says he's not playing ball.”
Leo rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Find out what the inspector wants. Everyone wants something, Carmine. Money. Women. Promotion. Find the vice and squeeze it.”
“I could just break his legs.”
“No.” Leo sighed. “Estamos running a business, not a slaughterhouse. If you break a federal inspector's legs, they send three more looking for whoever bought the bats.” He leaned back. “Be smart. Buy him.”
The study door opened. Carmine immediately went rigid. His hand dropped toward the weapon beneath his suit jacket. Leo only leaned back farther. He recognized the footsteps.
Mave entered carrying a silver tray containing fresh coffee, two porcelain cups, and sliced fruit. She wore her uniform: a simple high-necked black dress beneath a crisp white apron. Modest. Practical. Designed to make her invisible. It failed spectacularly.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Her voice contained no apology. She did not look at Carmine. She walked directly to Leo's desk.
“Put it there.”
As she leaned forward to set down the tray, Carmine's gaze dropped. Not openly. He was not stupid. But his eyes lingered for one second too long on the curve of Mave's hip beneath the apron. A fractional shift of attention.
Leo saw it.
Violence surged through him so sharply that he could taste copper. He did not move. Did not raise his voice. He only shifted his eyes toward Carmine. Carmine looked at his boss. The color drained from his face. He knew that expression. It was the look Leo gave men shortly before they became permanent components of concrete foundations.
“Anything else, Carmine?” Leo spoke almost in a whisper. It was the most dangerous sound in the room.
“No, boss.” Carmine stepped backward. “I'll handle the inspector today. Quietly.”
“Good. Get out.”
Carmine nearly fled. The door closed behind him.
Mave finished pouring Leo's coffee. She seemed not to notice what had just happened. Or perhaps she noticed and did not care. “You shouldn't look at him like that.”
Leo glanced at her. “Like what?”
“Like you want to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole.” She picked up the cold coffee from his desk. “He's terrified of you.”
“He should be.”
“He works for you, Leo. Fear only goes so far before it becomes resentment. Resentment becomes betrayal.” She wiped an imaginary speck from the desk. “Basic management.”
Leo laughed without humor. “Where did you get your MBA?”
“The Narrows. I read.”
“You read?”
“You have an extensive collection of Sun Tzu and Machiavelli. Light reading while I dust.”
Leo leaned forward. He looked at her properly. The exhaustion from the previous night remained beneath her eyes. She carried it well. Mave was built for endurance.
Leo opened the top drawer. His hand passed the loaded Glock and stacks of banded cash before closing around a sleek black box. He tossed it onto the desk. It slid to a stop beside Mave's hand.
“What's this?”
“Open it.”
She lifted the lid. Inside was a new top-of-the-line smartphone. Mave frowned. She did not touch it. “Leo, I can't take this.”
“Company phone.” He lifted his coffee. “Your old one is dead. If you're going to be late, I expect a text. It's a logistical necessity, not a gift.”
Mave stared at the box, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a faint, wry smile touched her lips. “Logistical necessity. Of course.”
“And Mave?”
“Yeah?”
“If Carmine ever looks at you like that again, he won't have to worry about the customs inspector.”
May you like
The room grew very quiet. Mave looked up, meeting his gaze steadily. The air between them thickened, charged with something neither of them had named.
“Understood,” she whispered, and picked up the box.
