Page 20 of Never Say Never

"Fuck no." I shook my head before I could really think about the question. My lips were moving on their own and my idiot brain skipped the filter option. "Me and kids are a recipe for disaster. My life is hell, I couldn't imagine dragging a kid into it."

York's shoulders visibly dropped and I watched in real time as the hard edge came back into his eyes. The wall that was always present at work was back up.

"I mean—" My cell phone rang and I chastised myself for forgetting that the ringer was on. I grabbed it, not recognizing the number. I would normally ignore it, but with the current war happening between my family, the Triads, and Aceto's, I couldn't risk it. "I'll be right back."

I was up, needing a second to come up with what to say to York. It wasn't a lie; me and children? Who in their right mind would trust a kid in my hands? But I couldn't exactly explain why to York either. He looked so disappointed. Why?

"What?" I answered the phone as I headed out front for a little privacy. I moved around the group of people trying to get in as the dinner rush started to flood in. The voice was broken up and the words were unclear as I tried to listen in. I glanced around, seeing the small alley leading to the back of the restaurant. I went in that direction. I could barely squeeze through, forced to walk sideways as I plugged one ear with my finger and pressed the phone tightly against the other. "Hello?"

My agitation was growing with every second I was away from York. My stupid brain and mouth were going to ruin everything. He was probably never going to give me another chance. I could kiss the second date goodbye, not that it was a date in the first place. Not a real one. Irritation worked through me. At this rate, I'd be at square one again with him maybe a few behind.

"I'm hanging up if you can't talk."

The voice came through clearer for a second. "Chocolate candy bar for sale."

Fuck, Benito code for call him ASAP came through clear as day. I hung up, knowing I'd have to get in contact with him soon. There had to be some time for me to slip away. I had my calendar up and looked everything over. I could do it on Wednesday. I had a few meetings, but I also had some fieldwork I could conveniently disappear from for an hour or two.

The soft crunch of paper under a shoe reached my ears, and the creepy feeling of being watched hit me full force. I didn’t move, my fingers still moving over the screen as I pretended I didn’t notice my little visitor. He crept closer, his breathing light as he moved in on me. I relaxed the moment I felt him in my space. I moved toward the back door of the restaurant as soon as he launched himself toward me.

I twisted and grabbed the back of his neck, using his momentum to slam his head into the brick wall. I did it again and again, not really hearing the blood curdling cries.

The back door opened and I grabbed the young guy who stepped out. He looked like a busboy, a stained apron tied around his waist. The joint slipped from between his fingers. I yanked him close.

“Wait right here,” I said. “You get me?”

He nodded hard. I took that as a tacit agreement and let him go before I returned to the man that had tried to sneak up on me. His head rested right between the door and door jam. I slammed not once, but three times until he went still.

This isn’t what an FBI agent would do. Even knowing that, I couldn't quiet the side of me that had been starved out for so long. My Vitale blood screamed for me to exact our kind of violence on the piece of shit who was watching me and York. The thought of him sneaking up on York instead of me sent a white-hot rage through me.

I had every intention of killing him before the tiny voice in my head said to wait. My breathing was erratic but my heart rate was steady. I was born to kill, to erase my enemies' existence from the Earth. I'd forgotten how easily it came to me. I pressed two fingers to my attacker’s neck. He was still alive. Good. I hooked my hands under his arms carefully, and dragged him back, careful not to get his blood on me. I checked my clothes over quickly before glancing at the idiot who stood off to the side, frozen in fear.

"Phone." The busboy shakily passed it to me. His pants had a wet spot and I stepped back. If York smelled blood and piss on me, I was a goner. The phone rang once. "Take out for delivery." I read off the address before ending the call.

It had been a while since I killed someone, maybe a few years. I was a bit rusty.

"You wouldn't happen to have a bat on you, would you?" I asked the busboy.

He shook his head so hard, I swore the thing would come off.

"Didn't think so." I shoved my hair out of my face desperately, craving a smoke, but Paul Gallo didn't do cigarettes. "Look, some friends are coming to get this out the way." I pointed to the man on the ground. He was more than likely an Aceto. I had no idea why he attacked me, but I was certain Enzo would find out. “Now normally, I would let you go, but you’ve seen entirely too much."

"Wait—"

I didn't let him reason with me; there was nothing he could say. He could swear he'd never tell a soul, but words were nothing more than pretty, empty promises. The moment he had a gun to his head, he'd spill it all. The only way I knew for sure he was going to keep his mouth shut was if he was dead. He let out a shout just as a random ambulance passed the busy street, drowning out his cry for help. I shoved my foot onto his chest, my hands on either side of his head after I tossed him to the ground. He instantly went to clawing at my loafers, trying to get free. I yanked back using my body weight and jerked to the right, full force. The resounding crack echoed up my fingertips and over my arms. His hands dropped to his sides as I twisted a little harder making sure to snap his neck.

I dropped him. He was a mess-free kill, unlike the groaning man on the ground. He was only alive due to the fact I needed answers. No one knew who I really was besides a handful of people. There was no way my cover had been blown already. The only other thing I could think of was they were targeting me because I was an FBI agent. If that was the case, everyone on my team could be in danger.

I cleaned off a few specs of his blood from my shoes. I wiped my hands and cleaned off anything I touched just in case. Tugging my phone out of my pocket once more, I checked the time. I’d been outside for fifteen minutes, leaving York waiting for me.

"Fuck." I rushed back inside, pushing past people, not caring if a waiter or two tripped. I stopped at my table, only to realize York was gone.

Leaving had been a harder decision than I thought it would be. Even coming to this meetup—I refused to call it a date—had been a hell of a leap for me. So for Paul to decide to ditch me before the appetizers had even arrived felt even more like a betrayal.

"He doesn't owe me anything. Nothing."

I tried to reason with myself, but it was still hard to stomach. Had he gotten upset over me talking about Dawn? Or was that call from someone who he found more important?

Dating for me had always gone like this. I was smart, successful, and confident when it came to work, but when it came to love, that was a different story. Relationships were a battlefield, littered with pitfalls and disasters just waiting to happen. I tended to bumble, to be indecisive and awkward. And everyone else in the world had so much experience. Surely, they could see right through me...