Chapter 4
He didn't let me stay in hallway.
His hand closed around my elbow, not hard, and steered me back into office. Door clicked shut behind us. Warm light from desk lamp threw shadows across cream walls. Phone still pressed to my ear, line dead, and I couldn't make my fingers let go.
He took it.
He set dark-case smartphone on his desk like evidence. Then he looked at me.
"Name," he said. "Age. Where is he right now."
I stood with back against dark wood trim, brass hinge cold at my shoulder. My knuckles throbbed. I hadn't realized I'd been clenching fist so tight.
"He's not part of this," I said.
Wrong answer. His jaw tightened. Neck tattoos shifted when he tilted head.
"They made him part of this when they said his name," he said. "You have maybe forty minutes left on that hour. I need location. Now."
I swallowed. Throat raw from crying. Truth had lived locked in my chest for months and now he pried at lock.
"Amir," I said finally. Voice cracked. "He's twelve. Twelve last month."
His eyes didn't leave mine. He waited.
"He stays with my aunt in Riverside," I said. "Small apartment over gas station on Central. Second floor. She watches him while I work here. He has asthma bad. Hospital bills. That's where debt came from."
Saying it out loud felt like stripping uniform off. I stared at floor, at my scuffed shoes, couldn't look at his face.
He already had phone in hand. Not my phone. His.
"Riverside. Central. Apartment over gas station," he repeated, then turned away and spoke into phone. "Marco. Need eyes on Central Avenue, Riverside. Gas station, second floor apartment. Twelve-year-old boy, Amir, aunt. Crew threat, one hour. Get someone there now. No contact, just watch. Report."
Panic shot through me, sharp and cold.
"No," I said. "Don't send someone. You'll scare him. My aunt doesn't know. She'll think —"
He held up hand. Listened to Marco. Then, "Send Luis. Plain clothes. Park across street. Call me if anyone approaches building."
He ended call. Looked at me again.
"Someone watching from parking lot is safer than crew walking up his stairs," he said.
I pressed hands to apron. White fabric bunched in fists. Control slipped. Until tonight, I managed everything alone — extra shifts, clinic payments, hiding calls in hallway so he wouldn't hear.
"You don't know them," I said. "If they see stranger outside his building, they'll hurt him faster. Please. I should call my aunt. I should get him myself."
"You call aunt now, she panics, pulls boy out alone at night. Crew expects that," he said. His voice stayed low, even. Not unkind. Like he tried to keep me breathing steady. "My man sits in car. Watches door. Nothing else."
I shook head. Tears came again, hot and fast. Twelve. Amir loved cereal with extra sugar, hated his inhaler, slept with hallway light on because he heard sirens at night.
"What if they already there?" I whispered.
He stepped closer. Didn't touch me. Just close enough I could see tired line around his eyes, restrained sternness cracking a little.
"Then Luis calls me and I go get him myself," he said. "You said please stay away from my brother. I heard you. Let me honor that."
Silence stretched. Clock on his desk ticked. I heard my own breathing.
"Agreement," I said at last. "He stays with my aunt tonight. Your man watches only tonight. Tomorrow I figure payment. You don't move him to mansion without me."
He considered. Nodded once.
"Tonight only watch," he said. "If building clear in morning, we move him to safer place you choose, under my watch. Not mansion unless you say."
Phone on desk buzzed. His phone. He answered, eyes on me.
"Yeah?" Pause. "Describe."
He listened. I held breath until lungs burned.
"Stay there," he told Marco. "No one goes in or out without photos."
He hung up. Looked at me. Expression didn't soften, but shoulders dropped fraction.
"Light on in second floor window," he said. "Boy silhouette passed window. He's home. Door untouched."
Relief hit knees first. I slid down wall until I sat on floor, apron around me, hands covering face. Injured knuckles stung against cheeks.
He crouched to my level, not touching, just there.
May you like
"He's safe tonight," he said quiet. "We keep him that way."
I nodded into hands. Relief twisted with new debt — not money now, but owing this man my brother's safety. Hour still ticked somewhere, crew still expected payment, but for first time that night, Amir had watcher outside his window who wasn't there to hurt him.
