Disorganized Crime: A Kat Makris Greek Mafia Novel (31 page)

BOOK: Disorganized Crime: A Kat Makris Greek Mafia Novel

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I sat beside Xander, leaving a respectable distance between us. He hadn't dressed up for the occasion. He was in shorts, running shoes, and a sleeveless T-shirt, his ball cap beside him on the polished wood of the pew. Had he run here?

"I heard you, you know. When you were sleeping you spoke. You said a woman's name. Sofia. Just in case you're keeping it a secret, I haven't told anyone—and I won't."

Silence.

Then he unfolded his body and stood. He was strong, physically and mentally. He was densely muscled but he could move like a cat. He was a killer. But I'd seen tenderness in the man, too. And he was gentle now as he touched his hand to the top of my head, as though delivering a benediction. I looked up and met his dark eyes. He was unreadable and I was all out of Rosetta Stones. Not a word passed between us. I watched him walk away. He stopped to light candles—six in all, and stuffed a thick wad of euros in the wooden box.

Then he was gone.

I turned back around. I was alone. Which is how I needed to be for what came next.

"I know you're listening in," I said in English. "Whoever you all are. I'm an American citizen and so is my father. We pay taxes on time. I've never broken the law. I don't really count underage drinking, because who doesn't do that? If my father dies because you guys refused to part with information or you couldn't be bothered helping, I'm going to be seriously pissed." I looked up at the man on the cross. "Sorry. But it's the most apt word under the circumstances." Back to the matter at hand. "If you can help … do it. Please."

With a jittery heart and rubbery knees I stalked over to the candles. I lit one apiece for Mom, Dad, and Grandma. The fourth I lit for myself. Something told me this thing was far from over, and I'd need all the divine help I could get.

Outside there was no sign of Xander, but the people of Makria were going about their business, living life as if they knew no other way. They smiled and waved to me like I was one of theirs.

It struck me that maybe the quiet man hadn't gone to church to pray.

Maybe he had been there to talk.

The End

Thank you for reading
Disorganized Crime
, the first of Kat Makris’ adventures! Kat’s story continues in
Trueish Crime
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