DIABLO

This is not how tonight was supposed to go. I only came here to check out the place before tomorrow night's drop. The plan was simple, come in, look around, and see what kind of trouble might come up. That's it.

The first thing I notice is that this bar is a dump. The lights are dim and yellow, the kind that make everything look tired and old. The table in front of me is cracked and sticky, the seat lumpy and worn down. It's the kind of place that smells like spilled beer and old smoke. Not where I usually spend my nights.

All I have to do is finish my drink and get out without anyone remembering my face. That's the plan. But then I go and break every rule I've ever set for myself.

And for what? Because some woman happened to catch my eye? There are thousands of women in this city, I could have chosen any one of them. But no, fate decided to throw her in my path tonight.

Why her? Why now? Maybe fate just enjoys watching me lose control.

She's working behind the bar, moving fast, keeping her head down. She doesn't know it yet, but she's standing right in the middle of something dangerous. The Rossi Cartel picked this place for tomorrow night's drop, the one job that could fix everything for me. Maybe it's a test, maybe it's a trap, or maybe it's fate trying to screw with me.

I tell myself to stay focused. I need to keep my mind on the job. Brian's outside checking the exits, cameras, and alarms. I just need to sit here, drink my beer, and watch the owner. No talking. No distractions.

But then I did what I swore I wouldn't. I talked to her. I even stopped a guy from drenching her in beer. Then I told her to take tomorrow night off.

What the hell was I thinking?

Every move I made tonight could have given me away. Might as well have hung a neon sign outside saying something big is going down and the Romano family knows about it.

She doesn't know how beautiful she is. April Morgan. That's her name. She hides behind her hair, keeps her eyes low like she doesn't want to be seen. She flinched when I brushed a loose strand off her face. There's something fragile about her, something that makes me want to protect her even when I know I shouldn't.

Her eyes are what get me. Bright blue, deep enough to drown in. They shine even in this filthy light, like the sea near the Amalfi coast. But she doesn't use them much, barely makes eye contact with the customers. I wonder what she's scared of.

Maybe it's her boss. Every time he shouts, she shrinks a little, like she's been through this before. It makes my stomach twist with anger. I want to pull her out of this place, show her something better, something clean.

I imagine what her life must be like. Shy girl from out of town, came here chasing a dream, ended up stuck in this rundown bar. But she's got fire in her. I can see it when she talks about Rome. Her face lights up when she says it. She wants to go there someday.

I told her she should. I even said she'd love it. For a second, she smiled like she believed it was possible.

Her boss keeps peeking out of his office, eyes darting around. He knows something's off. He sees me and ducks back in, probably worried the Rossi Cartel will pull the deal if anything feels wrong. He's nervous, that much is clear. I can tell this job is bigger than anything he's handled before. He yells at the bartenders, but mostly at her.

When he shouted at April, I almost broke his neck right there. But I can't do that. Not tonight. Not when I'm this close to getting my clean slate.

This job is everything. If it goes right, I can finally disappear. Start over. If it goes wrong, I won't be alive long enough to regret it.

I've checked the layout. The back door opens into a small courtyard where the smokers hang out. It's perfect for a fast exit. Everything's set. I should get up, meet Brian, and get out of here.

So why did I order another drink? Why did I stay? Why did I tell her to take tomorrow night off?

I don't know. Maybe part of me wanted to warn her, to keep her safe. But that's not my job. She's not part of this world. She doesn't belong in it.

Still, I can't stop watching her.

April Morgan. I know her name now, and tomorrow I'll know everything about her.

She's perfect in ways she doesn't even realize. Mid-length dark hair that curls slightly at the ends, soft waves that catch the light. She's got that natural beauty that doesn't need any effort. She's probably in her early twenties, far too young for me. Hell, I'm at least fifteen years older, and I've got too much blood on my hands to ever deserve someone like her.

But I can't look away. It's not just her looks. It's the way she moves, the quiet rhythm she taps on the bar when she's bored, the way her fingers dance as if she's hearing music no one else can. Every detail sticks in my head, one after another, pulling me in deeper.

When she talks about Rome, her whole face lights up. For a moment, she forgets where she is, and I can see the dream in her eyes. She loves Italy, takes language classes, even wears a little pin shaped like the Colosseum.

Maybe I could take her there.

The thought is stupid, and I know it. I'll be gone soon, erased like I never existed. My name will vanish, and I'll be a ghost in another country. She deserves more than that.

Abel always said no relationships. They're a weakness, a distraction. You can't run clean if someone's holding you back. And he's right.

So I'll stare, but I won't act. That's what I keep telling myself.

But then she glances back at me, just for a second, and I see something in her eyes. Curiosity. Maybe even hunger. And that's when I know I need to leave.

If her boss sees her looking at me, he'll start asking questions, and I can't afford that. Not now. Not when tomorrow night decides everything.

It's time to go. But even as I stand, I can still feel her eyes on me.

And I already know I'll see her again.

DIABLO

I take one last look at her, committing the image to memory. If she's still here when I come back tomorrow, we'll both be in deep trouble. Big trouble.

I drink her in, trying to fix every detail in my head, the tilt of her neck, the little way she cocks her head when she listens, that shy smile that hints at something more.

Desire hides behind it, barely contained. I could stand here for hours watching her, but I won't.

Maybe fate put her in my path to test me. She loves Rome, she's learning Italian, she likes bowling, her voice is like soft liquid silk that slips into my ears, her pink lips look made for kissing, her body is shaped so my hands would want to trace her curves.

Stop it. Just because she shares my tastes doesn't mean she wants to throw away her life and start anew in a foreign country for my sake.

She has a life here, people who care about her. I can't ask her to drop all of that for me. Besides, getting two sets of escape papers would be much harder than getting one.

I leave the bar and find Brian crouched low behind the wheel of the hire car. I can't park my own anywhere near here, it would be noticed straight away. I move around and climb into the passenger seat.

He pulls away. "How'd it go?" he asks.

"Boss is a real piece of work, Joe Harris," I say, keeping my voice even, "out of his depth, all nerves. Weak though, easy to crack. Snap a couple of fingers and he'll sing like a canary."

"Why do you think they picked this place?" Brian asks.

"Because it's a dive no one cares about," I answer.

"You're telling me, I'll need flea powder when we get back, the alley was full of rats."

"Any way into the courtyard from outside?" I ask.

"Knew you'd ask, I cut a gap in the razor wire, just big enough."

"Good."

"You sure you want to do this, boss? The Rossi Cartel don't mess around, when it comes to this sort of thing. They took the eyes out of the last guy who tried to steal from them."

"Above your pay grade, Brian."

"At least tell me why we're getting mixed up with the Rossi Cartel, they don't bother our family, we stay away. Why rock the boat over one drop? How much could it be worth?"

I think for a moment. I could keep him in the dark, but if this goes south, I'll need him sharp. The only way to make sure of that is to tell him part of the plan, not everything. Abel already made it clear, if anyone learns what's in the drop, the deal is off.

"The case holds something someone needs," I say, keeping my tone casual, "and since when were you scared of anything?"

"I just like keeping my hands attached to my arms," he replies.

"Do your job and nothing will go wrong."

"I hope it's worth it, Diablo, that's all I'm saying."

There's a lot I can't tell him, like how the case contains a tiny vial of nerve toxin, concentrated enough that one drop will kill in seconds. A single sniff and your face melts away. It's been strengthened to a concentration that could wipe out an entire conference hall full of people, if left unchecked. Which it will do, if I don't get hold of it.

Or how the Rossi Cartel are using Goody's Bar to hide the vial until the summit. Or that the man who intends to use it is the same one who killed my parents. That makes this personal, not business. Or that Abel has offered me a deal I can't refuse, a way out. I go where he cannot. I take the vial and get it to him before his lab notices it's missing.

Do that and he clears my record, he makes me vanish. I'll be able to live in the light instead of always moving in shadows, free to go home at last, after all these years. No one watching me, no one out to kill me. I'll be a new man in Rome, a nobody with no past, no family, no criminal file.

"Not going to be easy," Brian says, pulling me out of my thoughts, "the Rossi Cartel can be nasty when you cross them."

"Which is why we're doing this quiet, just you and me, no one else hears a word about the drop, got it?"

"Got it. You got a plan yet?"

"Tell me what you scoped out," I say.

He runs through the layout, the streets outside the bar, the razor wire around the courtyard and the gap he cut, the positions of cameras on nearby buildings. I half listen, half replaying moments from inside the bar, images of April burning behind my eyes. I hope she takes tomorrow night off. If things go wrong it could turn into a bloodbath, like he said. She could get killed in the crossfire.

Better she stays home and stays safe, that way I can get this done, grab the vial, hand it to Abel, and walk away. That's the plan. Get in, get out, be gone. Simple, if everything goes right.

I picture a new life, anonymous and clean. In Rome, a man who does not exist will appear, a nobody who can breathe in the daylight without looking over his shoulder. I let the thought linger for a heartbeat, the promise of it warming me.

"You getting distracted?" Brian waves his hand in front of my face.

"Since when have I ever been nervous?" I reply, forcing a laugh.

He snorts. "Just messing with you, boss. You're not yourself tonight. Something happen in there?"

I think of April's hand when I pressed mine into it to give her the hundred, the way she drew a sharp breath, her pupils widening. In that moment, I'm sure she'd have been wet between her legs, I tell myself. She needed the money, I heard them talking about late paychecks. If it wasn't for the job, I'd have taken Joe into his office, cracked his skull, maybe emptied his safe and handed her the lot. I know Joe wouldn't go to the police, who rats on a mob boss and lives to tell about it?

I can't risk acting on that now. Cracking his nose would be satisfying, but it would ruin the whole cover story that's so important. I need him unsettled because nerves make men make mistakes, mistakes I can use.

The drop is tomorrow night, the plan set. I make sure Joe sees me watching, make sure he knows my face. Once the Rossi Cartel leave, I'll get him to hand over the suitcase, then I go. It's that simple.

As long as April isn't there, nothing should go wrong. If she is, I'll lose focus and she's likely to get hurt.

All I can do is hope she does as I asked and takes the night off. The rest I leave to fate.

APRIL

It's the end of the night, and I'm tired all the way down to my bones. Joe hasn't come out of his office once, so it's been up to Jammie and me to clean everything and get the place ready for tomorrow.

I knock on his office door, but all he does is turn up the volume on his TV. I can hear it clearly - reruns of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, his favorite show and the reason he named this bar Goody's. He's doing it on purpose. He doesn't want us asking about our paychecks again.

I knock once more, but still nothing. So I go back to wiping down the counter, trying not to think about the guy who came in tonight. But it's hard. Something about him keeps looping in my mind.

Not just the way I wanted to throw myself into his arms when he walked up, or that calm confidence he had, the kind that makes everyone else in the room feel smaller. Not even the way he got me to talk about my dream of moving to Rome - a dream I've never told anyone before.

It was the way he looked at me when he told me to take tomorrow off, like he was genuinely worried about me. That look still sits heavy in my chest.

I can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen here tomorrow.

We've had strange things happen before at Goody's, but I try not to dwell on them. Usually, it's just Joe having private meetings in his office. People slip in, pass him envelopes, or walk out holding one. I've never asked what's inside.

I'm not stupid enough to risk losing this job. It's the only steady one I've had since moving to Chicago, and high school dropouts like me don't exactly have options waiting for them.

Still, I keep telling myself it'll change once I learn proper Italian. That's the goal - get a qualification, build some confidence, move forward.

Jammie's in the bathroom refilling toilet rolls while I'm behind the bar scrubbing at the sticky surface that will never look clean no matter how much I try. What this place really needs is a full renovation.

But Joe never spends money unless he has to. The fire extinguishers expired five years ago, the snacks could probably kill someone, and I'm pretty sure the smoke alarms are fake, just like the health certificates on the wall.

I pause, thinking about what that man - Diablo - said to me. Should I actually take tomorrow off? I need the money, but the way he said it, so calm and certain... it's like he knew something I didn't.

When Jammie comes back from the bathroom, it'll be time to go. I make up my mind. Time to be brave for once.

I walk up to Joe's door again and start knocking - louder this time. He finally yells for me to go home.

"Any chance I can take tomorrow off?" I call through the door, heart racing. I don't think I've ever been this bold.

The door swings open. Joe glares at me. "On a Friday night? You've got to be kidding. What for?"

"I just need a night off. I'm exhausted."

"We're all tired, honey. Most of us don't complain about it to the boss."

"Come on, Joe," Jammie says from behind me. "If she wants a night off, what harm could it do?"

"You want to work the whole shift alone?" he snaps.

"Well, no, but-"

"The schedule's set. You both better be here tomorrow," he growls, pointing at us. "Or don't bother coming back at all." Then he slams the door shut and yells through it, "Now get the hell out of here. I'm busy."

Jammie looks at me and shrugs. "Is it just me, or is he even more lovable than usual?" She grabs her big black coat from the hook. "Come on, let's leave the jerk to do whatever weird stuff he does in there while watching that show."

We lock up and head outside together. Her cab's already waiting. "See you tomorrow," she calls as she climbs in.

I wave and walk next door to my apartment. When I open the door, Aria waves at me from the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"I thought you had a date tonight," I say, hanging up my jacket.

"That was a disaster. He brought his mom."

I blink. "You're kidding."

"She wanted to 'vet' me first - her words. I told her she could keep her precious bundle and left. Then I met up with Ted from accounting again. Still awful. So me and Mr. Walmart made other plans. I got coffee, a bottle of Jim Beam, and new batteries for Lamuel. That'll keep me satisfied till Jake tomorrow night."

I can't help laughing. "You have more sex in a week than I've had in a lifetime."

"That's because my standards are lower than yours. You're out here waiting for Mr. Perfect. I just need a man with a pulse."

"Does the man need to be attached to it?"

"Ideally, but not essential. Me and Lamuel are doing just fine."

I roll my eyes. "It's still weird that you named your vibrator Lamuel."

"Only because you won't name yours. What are you, the Queen of England? Until we find decent guys, it's just us and the plastic fantastic. I'll keep going until I get results - like your dad."

"Gross."

She laughs. "You keep waiting for love and getting nothing while your love life turns to dust - like your mom."

"Nice."

"Anyway," she says, grinning, "enough about my romantic disasters. How was work?"

"Same as always." I drop into a chair, still thinking about the stranger from tonight. "Actually... no. Not the same."

"Ooh," Aria teases. "Do tell."

"I met someone."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "And what was he like?"

"Tall, handsome, dangerous looking. The kind of guy who never smiles. He asked my name... then told me to take tomorrow off work."

Aria places a mug of coffee in front of me, smirking. "Did you blow him?"

"Only a couple of times," I say dryly.

She bursts out laughing. "That's the real you," she says, pointing at me. "Why doesn't that version ever show up at work? You should walk in there like you own the place."

I shrug. "I'm different around you. We grew up together."

"So you can be yourself with me but not with anyone else, huh?"

"Exactly."

"You're never going to get laid like that, April. You should've dragged him into the bathroom and taken care of business right there."

"Correction - that's your way of handling things."

"Hey, it works." She takes a sip of coffee, hiding a grin. "So, what really happened tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. I know you, something definitely happened."

I sigh. "Okay, fine. But you'll say I'm overthinking again."

"Never know till you tell me."

"Right. So... there was this guy."

"It's a bar, April. There are guys every night. What made this one special?"

"Italian, for starters."

Aria drags her chair closer, inch by inch, grinning like a cat. "Go on. That's already a good sign. What else?"

"Tall. Expensive suit. Short dark hair. Broad shoulders."

"On the suit? Bit weird."

"On him," I say, smiling in spite of myself.