Page 16 of Assassin's Obsession

When Petra showed up last week with what she said was going to be a monthly stipend check, mom insisted on going out to dinner and inviting Petra to join us. The three of us hadn't eaten in a restaurant in two years.

Mostly because of money, but also because mom hardly leaves the apartment.

The private foundation that doesn't share data on its recipients with the state is a huge blessing. Mom has to be careful applying for aid through the state because it could interfere with her custody of Cookie.

We can't let the caseworkers know just how limited in mobility mom really is, or they'd take Cookie away for sure. They'd do it legally and with all the right words that don't imply ableist thinking, but they'd still do it.

And it would still be ableist as hell.

Not that we'd have any way of proving that, or the money to hire a lawyer to fight a custody battle with the state.

Because mom is a foster parent, not Cookie's legal guardian. She and Ms. Miller set it up that way so that mom could get money to help raise Cookie, neither of them knowing how bad mom's arthritis would get.

Seven more years and it won't matter.

That's what I tell myself on nights like tonight. Seven more years.

Then mom can file for disability income, Cookie can go off to college and I can quit shaking my tits and ass at the Pitiful Princess.

Chapter 6

ANGELO

The drive to my dark site across the Hudson in New Jersey will take less than twenty minutes. Plenty of time to ask Boomer questions.

Sounding bemused after the first couple, Boomer says, "That handsy perv was right, thisisa job interview."

"You need to hire somebody, boss?" Derian gives me the side-eye.

As my next in command, he's the first pass for new hires, which usually come from within Cosa Nostra ranks. Because we are an elite crew with a job description that requires a level of loyalty that can't be measured on brief acquaintance.

But I'm not looking for another member for my enforcer crew.

"There was a time I might have been useful to you in the business," Boomer says. "But I'm not as fast as I used to be and I haven't shot a gun in over three years."

"You'll have to practice," I say. "No one on my staff is incapable of defending themselves."

"Even your housekeeper?"

"Don't have one." But that will have to change when I move to Long Island.

"You'll be taking care of my dog and helping with his training." I will attend enough of the classes so the Cane Corsica doesn't forget who his alpha is, but I don't have time for the extensive training he's going to need.

"You've got a dog?" Boomer asks. "What breed is he?"

"You got a dog, boss?" Shock tinges Derian's voice.

"Yeah. Adopted him tonight."

"You mean Mars?" Boomer's quick to catch on.

"Yep."

"But he belongs to that asshole who kicked him."

"Not anymore." I'll be paying a visit to Mars' former owner to make sure he understands that there are no more dogs in his future.

I've killed men for less than kicking a dog.

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