Page 31 of One Kill

“Seriously? No. Nothing to talk about anyway.” I shake my head and shrug, but my façade is useless against River.

“I call bullshit.”

I can’t help but laugh because she heard me say this so many times to Marco when I was his second—and since then—and now she’s using my own words on me. Sly hippie.

“It’s a me thing, nada for you and Marco to worry about. Really, it’s fine.” I reach for the door again, but she moves in front of me, holding it closed.

“Liar.”

She’s usingmeagainst me. Short and simple responses are all she’s giving me—usually my M.O., not hers.

There’s a stare-off for what feels like longer than the few minutes it actually is, until River’s stern face breaks and she huffs.

“Come on, J. I know something’s up. Why don’t we get Stefano to make us some snacks and we’ll grab some coffee?” Polo wriggles in her arms at the mention of snacks, and she gently lowers him to the floor before he moves his little legs as fast as he can toward the kitchen.

“Really, Riv? Snacks and a coffee for girl-time?” It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow at her because she really thinks this is about to happen.

“Yup.” Turning, she cups a hand beside her mouth and yells, “Stefano! J’s staying for snacks.” Then she turns back to me. “There, now you have to stay or Stefano will be upset that you didn’t eat what he’s preparing for you. Come on.” Moving away from the door, she heads in the same direction Polo disappeared in, fully expecting me to follow.

Stefano is the house manager for the Mancini’s. He’s been with the New York mafia since pretty much the day he was born, working for Marco’s father before him. His cooking is second to none and the way he cares for the family and those around them is amazing. Really, we’re all his family, and he’d have it no other way.

Now, to refuse his food is not an option, because if I did, I know I’d be receiving tupperware boxes full of it on my doorstep. He’s a persistent little Italian man, and one of only a few that I actually pay attention to.

The kitchen is huge, exactly how Stefano likes it. It’s fit to feed an army of people with the amount of counter space and gadgets in here, and every single thing is put to use at some point.

I head to the breakfast bar, sitting on the stool River has clearly pulled out for me next to her, and wrap my hands around the fresh coffee already in front of me.

“Where’s Stefano?” He’s not in here with us, and now I’m suspicious.

“Whoops? He’s out shopping, so snacks from the fridge it is. I’ve been so hungry lately, there’s always a healthy supply of pastries.” River shrugs, a low smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, knowing full well she just tricked me into staying.

“Devil woman.” If it was anyone else, I’d be letting them see the tip of one of my blades through their fucking eye socket. But this is River, my boss’s wife, the queen of the New York mafia, and while she may not be skilled in the killing department, she’s a bad ass bitch that I respect the fuck out of.

“What can I say? You’ve taught me well.” She laughs, nudging my shoulder gently. “Now tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. Woman to woman, no bullshit.”

“There’s no—“

“J.” That’s all she says, interrupting me as it was obvious I was about to omit my truths. Her stare is hard but kind, and she doesn’t push any further, just sits there patiently waiting.

The scent of fresh coffee fills my senses as I inhale, long and deep, exhaling sharply and shaking my head.

“I have a daughter and her father is my childhood sweetheart. God, that sounds so fucking sappy. But there ya go, in a nutshell.” River’s eyes widen as I explain, telling her as little as I can about my past and letting her in on what’s been going on. She doesn’t try to interrupt; even when I take a long pause to sip my coffee or gather my thoughts—which are all over the place—she remains present, listening intently.

“Okay, so my first thought is that you’re being a bit of a dick. Actually, no, first… you have a daughter! That is absolutely the last thing I ever expected to hear come out of your mouth, but honestly, I think you’ll be a great mother.” She pushes her short dark hair back from her face. “But wow. And yeah, you need to pull your head outta your ass.” Standing, River moves to grab the coffee pot and pours us both another, the first one long gone.

As I’ve said before, if she were anyone else… knives, blood, all the things. But I know she’s not trying to be horrible or make me feel bad, she just doesn’t hide behind pretty words when they’re not needed. She’s always straight and to the point, never afraid to voice her opinion, even in the face of dangerous people.

“I know. But he doesn’t know that the Irish mob still wants to kill me. He doesn’t know that I took the money and weapons my parents stole from them. They’ve looked after him and Hallie, given him opportunities, and if I stick around I’m gonna fuck it all up for them. Upend their lives. All because I want a happily ever after for myself. How selfish is that?” The coffee’s still hot, the steam heating my cheeks as I sip at my fresh drink.

“How selfish is it for you to hold yourself at arm’s length from them? Giving them only small glimpses of what might’ve been then taking it all away because you’re scared. You, J,scared. Doesn’t sound right, does it?“ Fucking woman’s full of all kinds of wisdom, like anything’s possible, and while our worlds may be connected, my world isn’t hers. It’s not as simple as all that.

It can’t be.

“But the Irish—“

“Fuck the Irish. You found a way out once before, you can do it for your family. And this time, you’ve got an army by your side.”

The conversation with River was enlightening, to say the least. Never did I believe she’d be able to school me, of all people, in being tough, but fuck me, she did it.

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