Page 80 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
I let out an annoyed huff, which materializes as a white cloud in front of my face. It’s minus ten degrees, or what the app on my phone says is fourteen Fahrenheit. Even in my new black cashmere sweater and wool jacket, my nipples feel like they’re about to freeze off.
Fuck this.
My fingertips are numb as I take out my phone and give the Greek a call.
“I’m almost there,” he says, static cracking over the line. “Pulling up. You the guy in the long coat?”
“Yes,” I bark into the receiver. “I’m fucking freezing over here.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I remember when I first got to New York. Took me four winters to adjust.”
A black SUV pulls up to the curb, the driver a grinning young man with curly black hair and a prominent nose. He waves his phone at me.
I hang up and stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket, my shoulders nearly at ear height. I should have bought a hat and a scarf at that department store, but I was somewhat preoccupied with getting rid of my raging hard-on after the incident with Gemma.
I wonder if she’ll bring it up when I see her later today.
Orrin hops out the car and comes to shake my hand. “Ras, right?”
I scan him over. He’s young but there’s an old scar slashed over his cheek and a newer one through his brow. They give him a certain kind of gravity. I can already tell he isn’t someone who sits on the sidelines.
“Yeah.” I tip my head toward the sign above the door. “You the poet?”
He throws me a lopsided grin. “Depends who you ask. You’ve got a last name?”
“Sorrentino.”
“Oh, I know a Sorrentino around here.” He rummages in one of his pockets before pulling out a set of keys. “You’ve got relatives here?”
I shake my head. “Not in New York. My whole family is still in Napoli.”
He unlocks the door and motions for me to go inside. “Never mind then. I’ve never been to Napoli, but you know I’ve always wanted to go. Your pizza’s supposed to be the best, right?”
I shiver in relief as the heated air of the cafe wraps around me. “That’s what they say.”
“You know, I met a guy from there a while back.” Orrin lets the door slam behind him. “He’s with one of Messero’s crews. Actually, maybe he wasn’t from Napoli. Fuck, there’s too many damn Italians here, I always get confused where everyone’s from.”
I slip my jacket off as he walks over to the coffee machine. This guy talks a lot, but that might be a good thing given what I want from him.
“Want coffee?”
“Yeah.”
He pulls out a container of ground coffee beans. “So Kal told me to be my most helpful self as far as you’re concerned. Sounds like you and your boss have worked with him for a while.”
“Kal’s a good guy. He’s helped us a lot through the years.” Kal Petraki is the reason we’ve never lacked guns or ammunition in Ibiza.
“Congrats, by the way. Heard De Rossi recently became the top dog.”
I relax into the chair and cross my ankle over my knee. “The Casalesi leadership was in desperate need of a change.”
“Big promotion for you too, huh?”
“Trust me when I say it’s not as glamorous as it seems.”
Orrin starts making two espressos. “I’ve been working my way up since I first got here six years ago. Now, I’m leading a crew of about a dozen guys. We’re not big players, but I’ve got a good thing going, and I think I can keep growing it if I keep up the diplomacy with your country men.”
“You’ve got your own territory?”
