Page 11 of Killer Knows Best

Fallon lifts a finger his way. “Please excuse my partner,” she says, shooting me a cool look with a threat layered underneath. I’m guessing this isn’t the protocol she wanted to take when it came to the idiots in question. “You know”—she glances at the pooch to her right—“Buddy and I were wondering about something.”

“Do tell,” I mutter, sinking in my seat a notch because it’s all I can do not to throw my brother against a wall right now.

Fallon slices another lethal glance at me, but my gaze dips to her lips. I miss them already.

Fallon and I are new—hours new—too new to be cavorting with my brother, of all people.

“Buddy and I were wondering what the name of your cat is.” She flashes a seemingly unassuming smile at my brother, and I have no doubt he’ll step right into her honey trap.

“Mom’s cat?” Jet looks momentarily confused as he looks my way. “What’s his name?”

It’s true, I have full custody of my mother’s cranky felinewhile its cranky owner is doing her latest stint behind bars for knocking off liquor stores. To hear her say it, that’s her specialty, but she’s not any good at it, hence the orange jumpsuit.

“He isshe,” I grunt back at my brother. “And I don’t know its name,” I growl over at Fallon because apparently I’m not above spreading around my bad mood. No sleep and being deprived of Fallon’s lips for too long evidently have a negative effect on me all around.

“Her name,” Fallon corrects while over-enunciating the words. “You don’t knowhername.” She shakes her head at me. “She must have a name. What did your mother call her?”

“Her Effing Cat,” I say and my brows hike a notch in amusement. “I call her Cat for short.”

A dry laugh lives and dies in Fallon’s throat as she curls into her seat. “Well, no one will accuse anyone in your family of having an abundance of creativity. I’m not calling her any of the above. She needs a proper name.”

“How about Smokey?” Jet offers it up spontaneously and I squint up at him. Jet is lanky, pale as the walking dead, and he isn’t too picky when it comes to booze, chemical substances, and women. I’m hoping he doesn’t break Riley’s heart, because if he does, I’ll have to break a few of his bones to even things out.

Fallon tips her head as she considers this. “She is a black and gray striped tabby. But I’ve seen her slink around the cabin with elegance. I’m thinking something more feminine. How about Misty?”

“Misty it is,” I say, still not amused that Fallon has hijacked what could have been a highly effective shakedown. Odds are that if Riley knows where Erin is, thanks to her deal with the Morettis, then Jet may know by proxy.

“I vote Smokey,” Jet says with a shrug as if he has a right, and that’s all the motivation I need. I pop out of my seat and shuffle him out of the diner and into the icy morning air,driving him around to the side of the building and slamming him against the wall just the way I’ve been craving ever since he dared step foot in front of us. “You don’t get a vote in anything until you tell me exactly what Marco told Riley. I swear, if you know something and you hold back, I’m going to find out, and then I’m going to put a bullet through you and call your new girlfriend to clean up the mess. You don’t get to put Riley in danger in any capacity because I actually care about her safety.”

“Bull.” He slams his hands against my chest, but I don’t lose my grip on him. “The only thing you care about is getting into her sister’s pants and we both know it.”

I growl his way.

I’m not going there with Jet. What Fallon and I have is off-limits to him. But I can’t fault him for reducing what I have to the most common denominator.

Our parents were hedonists of the highest order. Drugs, booze, and sex with anything that moved was not only permitted, but highly encouraged, and that was just between the two of them. Suffice it to say, we didn’t have the best role models when it came to just about anything. Which would also explain why we were left to our own devices after the two of them were sent to prison—my mother for her liquor store shtick and my father for possession of heroin.

My older sister was already living with friends at that point.

Thankfully, my brother and I ended up with Sandy and William Decker, who saw our plight as a way to store their own riches in heaven by way of feeding us hot meals, offering us a roof over our heads, and gifting us a brand-new sibling—a bonus brother about our age whose halo was far more tarnished than theirs.

Today, Mitch runs the family morgue out in Elmwood. That’s the same piece of crap town Jet and I hail from, a hotbed forsinners of every variety, but it seems to have a particular affection for hookers, junkies, and pimps.

“Let go and I’ll tell you.” Jet squirms until I do just that.

The rush of the falls in the distance fills the silence and I cast a glance their way. They alone are the reason I chose this dusty small town with a backdrop of lush mountainsides everywhere you look.

Pine Ridge Falls gets its name from those grand ribbons of rushing water that sit at the base of the ridge. It’s also home to Pine Ridge Lake, and that body of water is why I chose to live in the cluster of cabins known as Whispering Woods. It just so happens that Fallon and Buddy are my neighbors in Whispering Woods, which I happen to wholeheartedly approve of.

And it also just so happens that Jet is my unexpected roommate in Whispering Woods, due to the fact he can’t sit still in a rehab facility long enough to allow it to work its magic. But I think both Jet and I know there is no magic there—more like sleight of hand. Ninety percent of addicts return to their vomit, and both Jet and I are inches from doing just that. It’s a war, and one we’re determined to win, or at least I am. Although Jet is putting in a concerted effort, I’ll give him that.

“Spill it,” I say. “I’m getting hungry.”

“Marco says Erin is managing an operation for the Morettis. Something small.”

My eyes widen at the thought. No matter how small the Morettis or Marco Rossi thinks this operation is, it doesn’t change the fact it’s most likely illegal.

“She’s dispensable,” I say. “That’s why they chose her. That’s the only reason they choose anybody. What is she doing?”

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