Page 19 of Starting Over

“Shit,” she whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Standing from the table, she eyed the door, biting her lip. “I need to go. I can’t be here. I’ll call Kristy and tell her to re-listthe house. I’ll find somewhere else to settle.” She was babbling to herself. There was something in her tone, and I watched her quietly.

“Maureen, wait,” King called out.

She had nowhere to go.

Colt still stood in front of the door, blocking her exit.

“Your car won’t be ready for at least a week. Stay until after the holiday.”

I stared at my brother. What the fuck was he doing? If she wanted to leave, he needed to let her go. She couldn’t stay here. There was too much at stake.

“I can’t stay here. He doesn’t know I’m here.” She looked at Blade. “They told me you were dead. You were all fucking dead,” she screamed.

She looked scared. Her hands shook, and her body trembled.

“If Sal finds out I’m here and you’re here, he’ll be pissed.”

“Sal?” Cash asked.

“He’s the head of the organization. If he finds out his men didn’t do what they were told, he’ll come here and do it himself.”

Fuck.

Sal was the head. Of course he was.

He was the fucking heir.

“He knows,” Blade said softly.

“What?” she gasped. “He couldn’t know. If he did, he would have finished what they didn’t. He’s ruthless. He doesn’t leave loose ends.”

“I talked to him two months ago. He has called me every six months for the past eight years to make sure I don’t step out of line.”

“Why didn’t they kill you?” she asked, sitting back down in the chair she had earlier abandoned.

I stood there listening as Blade explained what happened when his father was killed. Sal had ordered that he be left alone.

Why?

He hadn’t joined the Silver Shadows yet, so it wasn’t an ally with a 1% club he was looking for. He had another motive.

What was it?

Sal never did anything without a reason. What reason would he have for leaving Blade alive?

Blade brought my attention back to the table when he turned to Maureen and asked, “So you knew my father?”

Chapter Five

Maureen

“Your father is the reason mine died in prison,” I told him.

I couldn’t believe I was sitting across from Justin Cimorelli. I remembered him as a little boy, barely two years old. His mother, Kara, was my friend. I missed her when they left.

Until my father was arrested.

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