Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
And most of all, I saw the mutual respect. He treated people as if they mattered—from the old man still rolling dough in a bakery he’d owned for years, to the younger woman running a small convenience store, trying to raise her kids. There was no one ethnic group in this area. Portuguese, Chinese, Vietnamese, Italian, and other shops all existed here, their worlds mixing and creating a beautiful harmony. One that Finn wanted to restore.
As Finn spoke with the fire marshal again, I sat on a bench across from the bakery, eating a sweet bun a woman had insisted I take earlier. It was buttery and soft, the filling a rich cream. A group of four young men strolled past me, a pair of bright-red sneakers catching my eye as they headed across the street and into the bakery, loud and boisterous. A moment later, another group walked in behind them, this one with three. In a short time, they filed out, and for some reason, I counted them. Six. The one with the bright-red sneakers wasn’t with them. They went past me again, talking, eating buns, and a few moments later, I noticed someone walk out from the alley down the street. He was empty-handed and headed in the opposite direction. It could have been a different person, but the red on his feet caught my eye again. I wasn’t sure why I noticed it, but I did.
I turned and watched the young men enter the convenience store. A few moments later, they came out, a couple of them carrying bags. I counted again, noting a missing body. I waited, but he never appeared. I realized he could work there or maybe he was taking longer than the others, yet somehow it struck me odd again. I took another bite of my bun, wondering why I had noticed anything.
Tom noticed my gaze. “Everything okay, Ms. Murphy?” He looked around. “Something bothering you?”
I sighed. “No. Just watching the locals.”
Finn shook the fire marshal’s hand and came over, sitting beside me. He leaned over, touching the side of my mouth and drawing his hand back. A little cream sat on the end of his finger, and with a wink, he licked it off. “Delicious.”
I rolled my eyes, offering him the bag. “Have your own.”
“Won’t taste as good,” he teased.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to this part of the city,” I mused.
He sat back with a sigh. “When I lived here, it was pretty bad. Mostly immigrants like me, lots of violence and no structure. Fighting over the neighborhood. The Italians wanted it to be theirs. The Koreans wanted to claim it. Same with the other groups. My cousin was one of the first to suggest they work together and make it everyone’s. There was already a Little Italy, a Portuguese part of town. Chinatown. Why not have a melting pot? Make it safer. Let the businesses flourish.”
He huffed a laugh. “There was a lot of pushback, but others agreed. And so, it started. The neighborhood got cleaned up. Crime went down. The streets were safer. Businesses did well.” He waved toward downtown. “You can see where our territory ends. Housing prices go down. More transients. Less employment and stores. More graffiti.”
“I love the murals here.”
“We hire local kids to paint them. Most street artists won’t destroy others’ works. We keep them busy changing things, and it keeps the locals happy.” He sighed. “Usually.”
I turned to him, meeting his eyes. “Finn,” I murmured. “I know you think people are losing confidence, but they’re not. I saw how they reacted to you. The way you treat them. You’re still their hero. They know this is upsetting you as well. They know you’re working on it.” I leaned closer. “And you’re my hero. Forever.”
He smiled and touched my cheek. “Thank you, mo chroí. I needed to hear that. You always know what to say.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Time to go.”
I let him pull me from the bench, and we headed to the car. A flash of red caught my eye, and I saw a man hurrying away, his back turned. It made me think of the groups I’d seen earlier. I was about to say something to Finn when his phone sent him an alert.
“Niall just landed. I need to get back to the hotel. Roman is going to meet us there.”
“Okay.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
UNA
I sat at the table, listening to the men talk. Roman’s guy had pulled security images for every traffic camera and the ones the businesses had, and they were studying them, clearly frustrated.
“My man in the fire department says they are all deliberately set. But no one is seen going into or coming out of these buildings before the fires start. No alarms. No unusual sightings.”
“Can they be setting off some sort of bomb remotely?”