Another run-in or two with this particular Moretti might even be a little… fun.
Chapter
Six
ALESSIO
There’s lingering humidity tonight,even though the sun went down hours ago, and it’s amplifying the stench of garbage and piss on this side of the city. I’m a world away from penthouses and buildings with doormen, even if it was only a short walk.
Instead of my usual tailored suit and expensive Italian loafers, I have on a pair of worn sneakers and old sweats. I almost considered putting on a hoodie so I could pull it up to hide my face if I needed to, but wearing a hoodie when it’s eighty degrees with two hundred percent humidity felt like it would draw more attention than the possibility of anyone catching a glimpse of my face on the dark street. And tonight my main goal is to go unnoticed. It’s a recon mission, nothing more.
I can’t help but wonder as I stride down the shadowy sidewalk, most of the streetlights on this block burned out and never replaced, if my intruder lives nearby. There are dozens of buildings that would fit the bill for someone who makes their entire living robbing penthouses in Wildcliff, and part of me istempted to abandon my current mission and start knocking on doors. That would be a whole new level of desperation I’m not sure I’m ready for though. Not tonight, anyway.
The rumble of motorcycle engines cuts through the ambient city noise, letting me know I’m on the right block, if I hadn’t already been sure. I stop and peek down the alley, looking for a fire escape to climb, but there isn’t one. Is that even legal? Not that I’m an expert on building codes or anything. Come to think of it, I think I remember Salvatore saying something about a couple of guys in the mayor’s office being more than willing to rubber stamp anything as long as you slide a nice wad of cash across the desk with your request.
I tilt my head back and look up towards the roof of the building. I could try a different one, but I’m almost positive this one will have the best vantage point. The question is, how do I get up to the roof?
A man steps out with a little stagger in his gait and a bleary look in his eyes. Whether he’s drunk or overtired, I really couldn’t say, and it doesn’t matter much to me either way.
“Hey, excuse me.”
He frowns and takes a step back, looking me up and down suspiciously.
“I don’t have any money,” he says gruffly.
“No, uh, that wasn’t what I was going to ask.” I chuckle and rub the back of my neck, doing my best to seem flustered and a little embarrassed. “I matched with this woman on Cupid, and she wanted me to meet her up on the roof of this building. Now I’m not sure if she was fucking with me or if there’s actually a way up.”
He glares at me for another few seconds and then tilts his head towards the main door.
“Stairs lead up to the roof,” he grumbles, then he stumbles away.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath. It looks like it’s at least ten stories.
There’s no lock or buzzer system on the main door, at least. The stairway inside smells even worse than the city outside, like the people who live here can’t be bothered to piss or vomit in their own bathrooms and choose to use the stairwell instead. I pull my shirt up over my nose and power my way up the steps until I reach the door at the very top and push it open. I let my shirt fall back down as I drag in a breath of relatively fresh air. The glow of the city lights is brighter from up here than it was down on the streets, and the rumble of laughter and motorcycle engines echoes from the far side of the building.
A shadow in the corner of my eye makes me freeze. There’s no way I just happened to pick a random rooftop and stumbled on The Ghost. My luck isn’tthatgood.
“Alessio?” A familiar, deep voice cuts through the night quietly.
I squint as he steps out of the darkness. “Xav?”
He grunts in acknowledgment and I take him in, dressed all in black with a pistol holstered to his chest in plain sight and a pair of binoculars in his hand. Damn, why didn’t I think of that?
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
I huff out a laugh. “Same thing you are, I would assume.”
I turn and make my way over to the ledge on the far side of the roof to look across the street at what I came to see. Between a couple of much taller buildings is the Sleepless Reapers’ clubhouse. Therewasa large manufacturing plant there at one point, but it was demolished more than a decade ago. Once the lot was empty, the Reapers moved in. Whether they actually bought the land or just started squatting there and no one ever ousted them, I don’t have the first clue. They’ve built a structure themselves where they throw their parties, and at least half ofthem live there. It doesn’t look like there’s a party going on tonight, just their usual revelry of drugs and engine revving.
“Thought we were supposed to be working on this one together.” I try to keep any accusation out of my tone, but the hairs on the back of my neck are already up. Why did Xav decide to come out here without me? What was his plan if he happened to spot The Ghost lurking around the clubhouse?
“Just doing some recon.” He shrugs, raising the binoculars to peer across the street. “I must’ve missed the text from you telling me to meet you up here.”
“Just doing some recon,” I echo with just a hint of sarcasm.
He makes an amused noise in his throat that might as well be a hysterical outburst for the stoic triggerman.
“You should be careful.”