“We should go,” Nicholas told Marco. “Your father is worried sick.”
At the mention of his father, Marco’s face paled slightly.
“Is Papa angry?”
Nicholas’s expression softened.
“Not at you, piccolo. Never at you.”
The larger man by the door spoke quietly into what I now realized was a concealed earpiece.
“On secure. Bringing the package out now.”
Package.
They were talking about a child as if he were valuable cargo.
Nicholas pulled a thick envelope from his jacket and placed it on the table.
“For your trouble.”
I stared at the envelope, then back at him.
“That’s not necessary. Really.”
“Take it.”
His tone made clear that it was not a suggestion.
“My brother will want to thank you personally.”
Then he extended his hand.
“Give me your phone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your phone. I need your contact information.”
Reluctantly, I handed him my ancient smartphone. He typed something into it, then handed it back.
“You’ll be hearing from us.”
Marco tugged at his uncle’s sleeve.
“Can Miss Ellie come with us? She’s nice. And she’s all wet from the rain.”
Nicholas looked at me again, this time more thoroughly, taking in my soaked uniform, my worn jacket, and the dark circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer could hide.
I suddenly felt self-conscious beneath his scrutiny.
“Another time, perhaps,” Nicholas said, though his eyes remained fixed on me. “Miss Ellie probably has somewhere to be.”
“Actually, I was just heading home. My shift ended—”
