The church is warm and quiet. There are very few people inside, just a handful of worshipers scattered among the pews with rosaries hanging from their fingers, slowly sliding from one bead to the next.

My eyes bounce from face-to-face. No Trix. I begin to wonder if I walked into the wrong St. Peter’s church but then an old nun stands up out of the back pew and walks over to me.

She says nothing. She gestures with one arm, pointing the way to the confession booth along the farthest wall to my right.

“I’m looking for Beat—”

She jerks her arm, pointing again.

I point as well. “Over there?”

She doesn’t bother a third time. She just stares at me in annoyance before spinning around and wandering back to her pew.

I turn toward the right wall and walk over to the booth. After a quick glance around, I open the door and take my seat on the little bench inside. I sit quietly, eying the intricate lattice in front of me beneath the small lamp that barely lights the place enough. Can hardly even see my hands...

The window slides open, making me flinch.

“Good afternoon, Lance.”

It’s dark but I can make out her red lips. “Ms. Argento.”

“Trix,” she corrects.

I chuckle, glancing around the window. “And here I thought that was just short for Beatrix.”

“It works on multiple levels.” She smiles. “This trick, for instance, is an oldie but a goody. Back in the day, my great-great-grandfather used to slip the priest a single flask of hooch every week through this window in exchange for keeping his mouth shut about the speakeasy next door.”

“Just one flask? That’s not a lot.”

“Oh, my great-great-granddad made some good shit. Trust me, it was more than enough to fuck you up — especially a man of restraint like a priest.”

“And did you bring me here to tell me what your family bribes the priests with now in exchange for their silence?”

“No.”

“Then, why are we here?”

Trix presses her lips together and exhales. “I will let you ask me three yes or no questions about my family,” she says.

I squint. “Ten.”

“No deal.”

“Eight.”

“Five,” she counters. “Final offer.”

I nod, biting my cheek. “Deal.”

A slot below the window opens and Trix sticks her pinkie through it. I laugh and entwine mine with hers, shaking once.

“All right,” she says, pulling her hand back. “Go ahead.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” I ask.

“That’s not a yes or no question.”

“It’s not one of my questions.”

“The deal was for five yes or no questions,” she says. “You did not negotiate for anything more.”

I grimace. “I didn’t know I could negotiate more.”

“You can always negotiate more.”

“Did your father teach you that?” I ask.

“Yes. One down.”

I hold up a hand. “That wasn’t one of my questions!”

She grins. “Keep up, Lance. Four to go.”

I open my mouth but close it quickly before I waste another question by accident. I take a breath, suddenly realizing how fast my heart is pounding. It’s not often I find it difficult to keep up with people but this woman has officially done me in every time I speak to her — and effortlessly at that. I don’t see her struggling to catch her breath other there.

“All right,” I say, shifting on my bench. I lean closer to the lattice and think hard about what to ask next while she just sits there. Calm and at ease. Barely blinking.

My eyes fall to her jacketed shoulder.

“Are you really trying to join your father’s inner circle?” I ask.

“Yes,” she answers.

I shake my head. “Why? You have more potential and opportunity than anybody in your family since they immigrated here three generations ago.”

“That’s sweet of you to say and I’d be happy to answer that if you can phrase it as a yes or no question,” she says.

“You have to know the kind of work he really does,” I continue. “Your brothers were built for it but not you.”

Her face hardens. “Again, I’d be happy to—”

“Forget about it.” I wave a hand. “I’ve deduced enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say with a smile. “The deal was for me to ask you questions. You never negotiated any for me.”

Her brow piques. “Fine.”

“But…” my lips twitch at her long silence, “what I mean is that you want to be a part of the family business. And not just the shiny object they whip out at parties.”

“Is there a question in there?” she asks.

“They don’t want you, do they?”

“Define they.”

“Your brothers…” I pause with thought. “But your father does. That’s why you want him out so badly, isn’t it?”

Trix nods. “Yes.”

“They’ve staged a coup. Or, at least, have taken good advantage of your father and uncle’s absence.”

She swallows but says nothing. It’s not a question, after all. She doesn’t have to answer to my musings but I see it all in her big, brown eyes.

Two more questions.

“Are you willing to testify against your brothers?” I ask.

She snorts. “No.”

I chuckle. “Worth a shot.”

Her eyes roll.

I stare through the lattice at her. Deep shadows fall along her cheeks and chin but her eyes bleed through the dark. She gazes back at me with that tepid amusement she usually has. The light smile on her mouth has faded fast, leaving her with nothing but anticipation at whatever I’m going to ask next.

“One more,” she says.

I look at her thick, red lips. Those deep eyes. Hardened criminal she’s not. There’s still so much I don’t understand about her. I haven’t even cracked the surface of what I’d like to ask of Beatrix the mobster’s daughter but maybe I’ll have better luck at addressing Trix the beautiful woman.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow tonight?” I ask.

Her eyes twitch. “Is that really one of your questions?”

“Yes.”

“What does that have to do with my family?”

“You’re family, aren’t you?”

She bites her lip in hesitation. “No,” she answers.

“Why not?”

“Other than the obvious?”

“Trix, just because I’m building a case against your father doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” I tease.

She laughs. “Oh, I don’t think there’s any way you and I could possibly be friends, Lance.”

“Why not?” I ask. “We’re already on a first name basis with each other. We’ve only met twice before today.”

“Yeah,” she says with a scoff. “And one of those times, you kissed me.”

“I paid five grand for that kiss. Does seven work for you?”

Her mouth opens then closes again as she looks away, avoiding my stare. “No,” she says.

“Trix—”

“Tonight would be better.”

I cock my head to get a better view of her playful eyes through the lattice. “I can probably do tonight,” I say. “It might be difficult to find a reservation someplace nice on a Saturday night, though...”

“Won’t need one.” She smiles. “We’re having dinner at your place.”

I trip on my tongue. “M-my place?”

“Yes. You cook. I eat.”

“Why would I agree to this?”

“Because if you impress me enough and I just might answer another question or two. That’s what you really asked me out for, right?”

I bite down. Damn, she’s good.

“Okay,” I say. “What are you in the mood for?”

The tip of her tongue emerges from her mouth, gently running along her bottom lip before hiding away again.

“Steak and potatoes,” she answers. “Medium rare.”

I laugh. “Seriously?”

“What, is that too hard?” she asks with a smile.

“No, just… sounds a little basic for a woman such as yourself.”

She says nothing, holding her tempting smile.

“All right.” I nod. “It’s a date.”

Her face wrinkles as she stands up. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m hungry and you’re desperate.”

“You could eat anywhere with anyone.”

“True — but not on your dime.”

I shake my head. “First, I throw down four-figures for a dance and a smooch. Now, I have to stop by the butcher’s on my way home. Is there anything else you want from me?”

Her eyes narrow. “Ask me again tonight,” she says. “I’ll see you at seven, Lance.”

Trix cracks open the door on her side.

“Wait. You need my address,” I say.

“I already know where you live,” she says before she walks out and closes the door behind her.

I sit back. “Well, that’s unsettling,” I mutter to myself.