Page 59 of Even if It Hurts

I stared at the text as flashes of this morning assaulted me, bringing back all that fury in an instant.

She showed up last week and this morning with bruises from him...

I watched the screen, waiting for the little dots to appear. But just as I started setting my phone on my desk, my door was thrown open as Rush stormed back in and demanded, “Where does he live?”

Iended up getting out of the office nearly forty-five minutes late, but even though I tried warning Lainey that I got held up numerous times, I never heard back from her, and it had me all the more anxious to get home.

Didn’t matter that my team was watching the partner from our Donut...they couldn’t stop calls from being made if a Wrecker somehow found out we’d been behind it all. And even though my name wasn’t tied to my apartment’s contract, nothing would prevent the mafia from finding out where I lived.

But just as I hit the button for the elevator in my building, the night manager came hurrying over to me.

“Mr. Briggs, I was just calling you.”

Apprehension trudged through my veins as I watched him close in on where I waited. “What happened?”

He gestured to the elevator as it arrived. “A woman came not two minutes ago—a social worker. Said I couldn’t warn you she was coming up and that I had to let her up.”

My hand curled into a fist at the news because the last thing I wanted after the long day was to deal with Kaia’s social worker. Glancing at the waiting car, I asked, “You’re sure she was a social worker?”

Surprise flitted across his face before he hastily nodded. “Y-yes, sir. She showed me her identification.”

I nodded as I stepped onto the elevator and shoved my keycard into the slot. But once the doors were shut and the car began ascending, I felt a dark calm slip over me as I reached for my gun.

Just this morning, I wouldn’t have thought twice about a surprise visit from Kaia’s social worker. And nearly every part of me was sure that’s all this was—a visit from a woman who was convinced I couldn’t take care of my niece. But the small part that needed to worry about mafia retaliations couldn’t stop thinking about the time an underboss had just appeared in a living room I hadn’t even owned. Or that we’d just messed with an assassin’s brother and that Lainey was, once again, not answering her phone.

But as soon as I stepped off the elevator, the familiar tones of Lainey and the social worker had my nerves and suspicions settling as I holstered my gun and forced myself to walk normally until I met where they were sitting on the couches.

The bare couches.

I quickly scanned my living room, noting all of Lainey’s décor I’d been forcing myself to live with was gone. But with only a glance at where Lainey was studiously studying the coffee table, I tore my attention to the social worker as she stood.

“Mr. Briggs,” she began as she held out a hand for me to shake. “Good to see you again.”

“Ma’am,” I muttered. “Sorry I’m late.”

She made a face that was as analytical as it was judgmental. “But you didn’t know I was coming, now did you?”

“I’m still late getting home.”

One of those disapproving sounds she liked to make rose in her throat as her head slanted. “That happen often?”

I held her stare for a moment longer before asking, “You met Miss Pearson?”

“I did,” she said brightly and turned toward Lainey. “We just got past introductions, and she was telling me Kaia’s crawling now. Did you know that, Mr. Briggs?”

“I did.”

Something like doubt crossed her face as she sank into the seat again. “Why don’t you sit and tell me how things are going from your perspective, Mr. Briggs?”

I moved, but only to put Lainey in my line of sight as I told the woman about the changes in Kaia—attributing it all to Lainey and her research. All the while, Lainey remained unnervingly still and silent with Kaia in her arms, while the social worker made those irritatinghumsas she tapped on the tablet that seemed to be attached to her.

Once I finished, she said, “So, in your words, you’re unable to care for Kaia without Miss Pearson’s help,” without ever looking up.

Frustration bubbled up on a low laugh as I stared at the woman. “I never said anything remotely close to that,” I mumbled darkly. “Kaia and I got through the weekend without her just fine. I’m saying Miss Pearson is an integral employee.”

The social worker glanced up long enough to challenge, “Is that what you said?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want this to work out for Kaia?” I shot back.

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