“Whoever did this to you has to pay,” he said.
“Stop! I have insurance. Don’t be stupid, Shadow.” She tugged on the arm of his jacket, so he stopped.
“You’re not the type to let assholes walk all over you. If this bakery is your dream, then you have to fight for it.”
“It’s not so simple,” she said.
“Yeah, well, it is for me.”
He knew where Riley was coming from. Shadow had worked his way up from nothing. His mother had died of cancer when he was a boy, and then it was a mix of foster care and the streets after that. His life had been no picnic, but even though he had everything now, and more money than
he could ever spend, he didn’t have what he really wanted.
Riley’s pleas turned to whispers as they approached the bar.
“Shadow, don’t…”
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll have a word with the owner. I’m sure it can be handled diplomatically.”
“Are you kidding me?”
He scanned the crowd of men outside the bar, many older than he was, a few younger. He counted eight. There were a couple wearing cuts, which made things more complicated. Which one had thrown the brick, he wondered. He planned to find out.
“Who’s the owner of this bar?” he asked.
“Fuck off,” said one of the men, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
“He’s with her,” said another.
Shadow cleared his throat. He didn’t have a short temper like some of his colleagues. Rushing in with guns blazing wasn’t his style. Besides, this place was too close to home, a place he liked to keep separate from his other persona.
“I’ll find him myself,” said Shadow, pushing through the group of unruly men. When one of them gave him a firm shove, a switch flicked inside of him. Shadow hated bullies. He turned to the side and punched the man square in the face, sending him toppling down.
Riley screamed.
He’d started something now, something he planned to finish. Even though there were a lot of them, he wanted to handle it as quietly as possible. He’d already decided the bar had to go. That was on his to-do list for later. Shadow had made the decision the second he knew why there were tears in Riley’s eyes.
“Where’s the owner of the fucking bar?” he repeated, his voice carrying a distinct threat.
“You have a death wish?” The men began surrounding him. He could smell the smoke and cheap booze on their breath behind him.
“Someone put a brick through the bakery window. I want to know who it was,” he said.
“And if we don’t say anything?”
Shadow squatted down and pulled out his butterfly knife from the side of his boot. He began to play with it, the blade and handles spinning and flying round his fingers and wrist with expert accuracy. He’d perfected his skills with a blade over the years, almost as flawless as his expertise behind a sniper rifle. The crowd stood transfixed until the first fool made a move for his knife. Shadow stabbed him in the arm as a warning. This entire show was his attempt to keep thing as civil as possible, with the least collateral damage.
His patience was endless. Or so it seemed.
“Leave while you can, or next time it’ll be more than your girl’s window you have to worry about.”
In a flash, Shadow turned and had his blade pressed against the man’s carotid artery. “What the fuck did you just say?” His instinct to protect Riley was off the fucking chart. The thought of one of these bastards putting their filthy hands on her, made him all too eager to take every one of them out. Fuck the consequences. He didn’t even recognize himself.
“N-nothing.”
“Any of you so much as breathes on her, I’ll kill you.”
“You taking a knife to a gunfight, junior?” He felt the muzzle of a gun at the back of his head. Why couldn’t they leave well enough alone?