She had to hoof it two blocks, through the raging sea of tourists, of shoppers, of semi-sane New Yorkers just trying to get the hell home after the workday.
She studied the stall as she approached. Scarves, capes, socks, gloves, mittens, caps, hats—the kid had expanded since their last encounter.
She watched him make change, fold three scarves into a clear bag. “Have a good one.”
Then his dark eyes shifted over, met hers. His grin spread. “Yo, Dallas. What you say?”
“Yo, Tiko. Business is good.”
“Business is tight.”
He was a squirt of a thing, a kid who probably should’ve been home playing video games or sweating over math homework. But at heart, Tiko was a businessman.
“You catch any bad guys?”
“Not today, but the day’s not over. Late for you out here, isn’t it?”
“Holiday business. I got till seven-thirty. My granny’s good with that. Deke! Help that lady there. One of my employees,” Tiko told her, nodded toward a skinny kid wearing fingerless gloves and an earflap cap. “I got two.”
“Employees now?”
His eyes did an amused dance under the bright stripes of the watch cap he wore pulled low. “For the Christmas rush, sure. Got some nice scarves here. Got cotton, got wool, got cashmere, got silk blends. You can match ’em up with gloves and a cap, make a gift set.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’ve got some girl types I need to get stuff for.”
“What kind of girl types? Friends, relations, coworkers?”
Eve huffed out a breath. “Friends, I guess. Friends.”
“Good ones? Or the kind you just gotta come up with shit for?”
She had to laugh. He knew the score.
“Good ones.”
“I’m gonna take you to my associate.”
“Your associate?”
“Yeah. Deke, Manny! You mind the store now, and don’t screw around. You come on with me.” He took Eve’s hand, marched her to the corner. “You remember that shop you busted last time? I told you about how they were bad guys, and you came and took them down?”
“Yeah. Street thieves, identify theft racket.”
“Got a new business in that shop now. Mom-and-pop deal. They’re good people. They’re going to fix you right up.”
“Are they?” Willing to try if it finished this shopping crap once and for all, she crossed the street with him.
“True. Give you a good deal, too, since you’re with me.”
He zigged, he zagged his way through the crowds, then zipped into the long, narrow store.
“Hey, Pop!”
The man, probably no more than thirty-five, used a long hook to reach the strap of one of what looked like a half million bags. He snagged it off the wall, lowered it, offered it to the waiting customer.
Then smiled at Tiko. “Hey, Tiko!”
“Hey, Mom.”