Page 41 of Sinful Secrets

Rhett is wearing a suit similar to mine, except his black suit has gray pinstripes, whereas mine is just a simple black suit.

Francesca grabs her purse. “Let’s go. Traffic is going to be horrible.”

“When is traffic ever not horrible in New York City?”

Rhett pushes the button to the elevator. “Never. It’s always horrible. It’s one of the reasons I love living in Savannah. Fewer people. Less traffic.”

We head outside and get into the waiting taxi van. I jump in the back row while Rhett and Francesca take the middle row and tell the driver where we are headed.

The drive is silent and long. I don’t even bother taking my phone out of my pocket. Tonight is going to be risky. I need to stay focused and keep a clear head.

Francesca sighs in front of me. “We’re going to be late.”

Rhett pats her leg. “No one said we had to arrive at exactly seven o’clock.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to pay my respects and leave without causing a scene.”

I chime in. “Maybe showing up in the middle or towards the end will be less chaotic.”

Not to mention less conspicuous.

The taxi driver finally parks around the corner toward the end of visiting hours.

As soon as we walk inside, I feel uneasy. We’re in the lion’s den, and we’re unarmed. I wait in the corner of the room as Francesca and Rhett make their way up to the front to pay their respects.

She touches Jax’s cold, deceased hands before leaning down and whispering something to his lifeless corpse.

Rhett stands close by, not bothering to even look at Jax.

I probably wouldn’t want to look at the man I killed, either.

The three of us meet back up and stand on the side and people watch.

Whispering, I admit, “I don’t like this. I hate being here unprepared.”

Rhett glances around and says, “Yeah, but there’s nothing we can do about it except be alert and hope it goes by fast.”

“We should have brought more backup.”

He shakes his head. “That was just asking for trouble.”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

If a fight breaks out or something happens, we can’t defend ourselves. We’re practically sitting ducks here.

“At least most people are already gone.”

My gaze locks with an older man’s. “Who’s standing beside the casket?”

Rhett follows my gaze. “That’s Giuseppe Rossi- New York City’s mob boss and Jax’s father.”

“And the one shacking up with Francesca’s mother.” I add, not thinking before speaking.

“Dude, shut up.” He warns before looking behind him.

He spins in a circle. His gaze wanders the large open room. “Where’s Francesca?”

Shit.

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