Page 23 of Sink or Swim

“He had my mother,” he mutters.

I arch a brow. My hand is still on the handle, but I want to hear this first. Let’s see what excuses he can come up with to keep me trapped in this toxic cycle of abuse. “What?”

Maurice swings his legs around to the side of the couch then stands, albeit wobbly, and starts toward me. I tense.

“They had my mother. And Genevieve, too,” he says, and though his words are still slurring, I can hear the sincerity in them. He’s telling the truth, as impossible as it is to comprehend. That’s deplorable. Depressing, too, that Luther would stoop so low as to kidnap a bedridden woman and Maurice’s sister. “They locked them up in some warehouse somewhere and showed me the pictures. Told me what he’d have his men do to them should I not listen to his orders.”

Maurice had been getting out of line a little often, even before I was tossed into the lagoon. Everyone knew it. It was little things at first. Refusing to kill someone, or hesitating. Questioning Luther too much. I had no idea Luther would do that to one of his right-hand men, though.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know.”

Maurice straightens. “No one did. But it was the last straw, when Luther ordered me to come get you. I knew what he was going to do. I tried to talk him out of it, but he showed me a picture of little Genevieve with a gun to her head, and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t say no, Nick. I’m so sorry.”

I drop my hand from the door handle and make my way toward Maurice. He hangs his head, genuinely remorseful, and I sigh. “I understand. I get it. I do. Is that … is that why you guys killed him, then?”

Maurice lifts his gaze to mine and nods. “Yeah. It took a while to find the right time and work everything out, but in the end, we got ’em. Flushed the ranks a bit. Offed his loyalists. Took on some new hires, which you saw.”

“Yeah,” I say, then work my jaw. I don’t love that more young men got swept up in all of this, but I’m glad that they at least took out the guy who tried to kill me and hurt Maurice’s family. That man was scum.

“Got out of the Stim business, too,” Maurice says.

I couldn’t have been more surprised if he said he just signed up for clown academy.

“Wait, what?”

He smiles. “Yeah. Was one of the first things we did. Got out of it. Don’t want to deal in that shit. The new boys are happy to just hang out at the club and casino.”

I blink. Luther owned several casinos and strip clubs throughout the city. Acquired them like they were Fabergé eggs to place inside his dusty cabinet. To show off his wealth and influence.

“That’s all, then?” I ask.

“That’s all,” Maurice says. “So, please don’t be too hard on the others. They weren’t a part of the old guard, and they’re not involved with Stim. I know what it did to your mother. We won’t let it happen to anyone else. I promise.”

All the air escapes my lungs. Holy shit. This is … this is huge. Still, the mafia is the mafia. You can replenish the ranks and get out of drug business, but it’s still a criminal organization. And I want to get clean. Live my life differently. I want to find Oona, if she’ll even have me.

“Your room is still last on the right, by the way. All your things are still there,” he mumbles into his pillow, so incoherent I almost miss it.

I blink. Huh. They tossed me into the lagoon like a piece of trash but kept my things.

“I couldn’t get rid of them,” he says, his voice so low I almost miss it. “Just couldn’t.”

NICK

The next morning, a hammering knock on my bedroom door makes me literally fall out of bed. I land on my ass in a tangle of sheets and tear them off my body as I struggle to shake my head of the last dregs of sleep.

“Nick!” A voice on the other side yells. It’s Reese, I think? Or Gino? Did we even hire a fucking Gino, or am I just imagining things? Maybe I dreamt that name. No idea who even works for this damn mafia anymore now that our last boss was killed.

I rub the back of my head, groan, and check the analog clock sitting on the nightstand. I haven’t even been back for a full twenty-four hours yet, so I don’t have a phone yet and have to rely on old fashioned clocks and calendars to get a sense for time. I push myself up to stand, then hobble over to the door, shaking my leg along the way because at some point, it fell asleep.

When I yank open the door, it’s a new face staring back at me, his eyes wide and eager. His curly brown hair falls in his eyes, making him look about ten years younger than he probably is. At least, I hope the kid isn’t actually eighteen. That would be too depressing.

He looks me up and down and frowns. I’m wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs.

“You, uh, sleep naked?” he asks.

Setting my jaw, I consider slamming the door in his face again. I am really, really not in the mood for any of this shit. Probably never will be. “Obviously not, since I’m wearing underwear. What do you want?”

The kid stares at me vacantly, like he just forgot why he was banging on my door a second ago, then says, “Oh, shit. Right, sorry. Maurice wants you out on the docks. Like, now. Now, now.”

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