The Edge of Lost by Kristina McMorris Read Free Book Online Page B

were typical of an Italian immigrant. “You speak English.”
    “Well, I’d hope so. I was born and bred in the States. It’s my Italian that needs work.”
    Shan shook his head, feeling ridiculous. “Sorry about that.”
    “For what? You just saved my ass.” An Italian accent did actually dip his words, though it was faint enough for many to miss. “I’m Nick, by the way.”
    “Shan.”
    They shook hands. Then the fellow stretched his jaw and gave it a rub, no doubt stiffening from the hits. Shan knew the sensation.
    “Are you all right? Took quite a beating there.”
    “Ahh, that was nothin’.” Nick shrugged, but the movement caused a slight wince. “Girls, huh?” He rolled his eyes, as if recognizing his failure to see it coming.
    “Might want to rest here a bit. In case them fellas are still hanging around.”
    It was truthful advice, but not Shan’s sole motivation. Aside from the relief of pleasant company, Nick was a real Yank, a member of a group Shan was eager to join.
    “Sure. I suppose,” Nick said. “For a minute.”
    Shan quickly pulled over a second box, keeping the flashlight angled downward, and they took their seats. Nick’s dark hair was close-cropped like Shan’s, a common tactic to fend off the lice that often plagued the ships.
    “You wouldn’t have a cigarette, would ya?” Nick asked.
    “I’m … afraid I don’t.” Shan regretted not having one of his uncle’s. But he did have something else. He grabbed two pieces from his coat pocket. “Toffee?”
    Nick grinned. “Why not.”
    They were soon sucking on sweets, filling the air with the heavenly scent of caramel. The smell was straight from Mr. Maguire’s store. One of the many things Shan was leaving behind.
    He pushed away the thought. “So, you’re from the States, you said.”
    “New Jersey. But we’re moving to Brooklyn.” Shan’s puzzlement must have shown because Nick added, “It’s a borough in New York. A lot of Italian Americans there.”
    It was hard to believe the ship would be arriving in a matter of hours. Shan felt heady from the thrill of it.
    Nick shifted on his box, perhaps antsy to leave. Not wanting him to go yet, Shan stammered to form a question. “Where did—or how long, I mean—have you been away?”
    “About three years.” Nick used his tongue to move the toffee from one cheek to the other, where it clicked against his straight white teeth. “My parents took us back to Italy when my grandfather got sick, so my dad could run his business. It’s a shoe shop in Siena. And now we’re finally going back.”
    “Oh, I see. I’m sorry about your grandda.”
    “Don’t be. The cranky old bastard got better, which we should’ve expected. He’ll probably outlive us all.”
    The corners of Nick’s mouth rose. It was only a partial smile, as though something were holding it down.
    Shan sensed not to ask. In the quiet, he recalled his kitchen worker’s cap and tugged it off, a reminder of the confrontation. “Those fellas from earlier, I take it they weren’t pals from Siena.”
    “Didn’t know ’em till last night. We played a few hours of poker. Guess they held a grudge over thinking I cheated.”
    “Because you won?”
    “Well—yeah. Also ’cause I cheated.” Nick’s eyes gained a glimmer. “I just figured they’d had too much wine to notice.”
    They both laughed, and Nick paused to hold his right side, a flash of discomfort in his face. As he relaxed, Shan chewed his toffee into tiny pieces, almost missing the murmurs echoing from the hall. The door hadn’t fully closed. They were men’s voices, growing closer.
    Maybe crewmen were headed here for supplies. Or worse yet, if the Italians had somehow uncovered the trick, they could be returning, and in greater number. Shan went still, his sudden worry mirrored in Nick’s eyes.
    But then the voices became clearer, with the guttural consonants of German, and faded when the strangers continued past.
    Shan and Nick traded