“Bring me the file on Elena.”
Dante ended the call before I could decide whether to run.
For a moment, no one moved.
Noah stood beside me holding the red wooden train against his chest.
The elderly vendor suddenly seemed very interested in rearranging the bills in his cash box.
One of Dante’s men watched the street.
The other watched Dante.
I watched the phone disappear back inside his coat.
“You have a file on me?” I asked.
Dante’s gaze never left my face.
“I had people look for you.”
“For five years?”
“Not continuously.”
The answer should have comforted me.
It didn’t.
Noah tugged my hand.
“Mama, can we go?”
“Yes.”
I turned.
Dante stepped into my path without touching me.
His two men stayed where they were.
“I’m not stopping you,” he said.
“You’re standing in front of me.”
A muscle moved in his jaw.
Then he stepped aside.
“Go home.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t know where I live.”
His expression told me he understood exactly why I had said it.
“I won’t follow you.”
“And your men?”
“Neither will they.”
I wanted to believe him.
Five years earlier, I had believed too many things simply because Dante said them calmly.
I took Noah’s hand and walked away.
I didn’t look back until we reached the end of the market.
Dante was still beside the toy stall.
He wasn’t watching me.
He was looking down at the ten-dollar bill I had left behind.
Then his phone rang.
I turned the corner before I saw him answer.
The walk home took twelve minutes.
I made it in eight.
Noah had to half-run beside me.
“Mama, you’re squeezing.”
I loosened my grip immediately.
“Sorry.”
“Was that man mad?”
“A little.”
“At me?”
I stopped so quickly a cyclist swerved around us.
“No.
Never at you.”
Noah considered that.
“He looked at me funny.”
I crouched in front of him.
