Page 10 of Killer Knows Best

Riley is my older sister, and even though she runs a successful business of her own, she’s been known to pinch-hit for my mother now and again by picking up the slack around this place. Not only is my mother down a few staff members, but she’s on a self-imposed hiring freeze until business picks up. So Riley it is.

Riley moves quickly between customers with her usualperky, frenetic energy. Her honey blonde hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, her apron slightly askew as she juggles coffee pots and plates as if she’s auditioning for the circus.

Mom, Bea Baxter herself, stands behind the counter, filling orders with a smile that I know hides a thousand worries. Her hair sits on top of her head like a gray thunder cloud, and her sharp features are highlighted with laugh lines and worries lines, both of which she earned via a life well lived. She’s tough and always has been, especially after Dad died.

My mind skids to the past, to that cloying room—a flash of light, the Glock going off, and then my father dropping dead to the floor. The sound of the shot is swallowed by yelling. My sister, Erin, is red-faced, tears streaking her cheeks as she screams something that to this day I can’t make out.

I blink the memory away, and I’m right back in the diner with Buddy sniffing out his next meal.

“Hey guys.” Riley’s voice snaps me back to the present as she leads us to a booth near the back.

“Always good to see you, Riley,” Jack says, craning his neck past her. “Is my brother running amok today?”

“Yup.” My sister skips as she says it. Jack’s brother seems to have that effect on her as of late. “And he’s looking fierce doing it, too.”

Jack sighs with a laugh. “Fallon, I think your sister needs to get her eyes checked.”

“Nobody is laughing but you.” Riley shakes her head as she lands us at a booth. “Rumor has it, you’ve been canoodling with this one.” She points that carafe in her hand my way. “Maybe it’s you who needs to get their eyes checked.”

“Very funny,” I mutter as Jack slips in across from me and Buddy sits obediently by my side, his nose twitching at the smell of bacon. And come to think of it, so is mine.

“You want the Pine Ridge Falls breakfast special?” she asks without missing a beat.

The special consists of a short stack of pancakes, eggs made to order, two breakfast sausages, and two slices of bacon. It’s always a hit, and always my breakfast order, and Jack’s come to think of it.

We both agree and Riley doesn’t bother jotting it down. She’s about to take off, but I tug at her apron and force her to take a step back.

“I know what you did.” I shoot her a cold look, not nearly the threat I wanted to dole out, but a night of no sleep has left me too weak to go to combat over anything.

As much as I’d like a huge confrontation about her recent actions concerning a mob family, I’m not up for orchestrating any drama.

I’ve been replaying the conversation with Marco Rossi in my head over and over since it happened, and every time it loops around, the pit in my stomach gets deeper. Marco Rossi is a henchman for the Moretti crime family, and he is certainly not anyone Riley should be messing with.

However, he was also the last person seen with Erin. He was caught on the security camera of a grocery store handing her a wad of cash a few weeks back after she escaped a cult compound. He’s been tight-lipped regarding Erin’s whereabouts, but offered to speak if I put my badge on the line and helped out the Morettis with a favor or two. He gave me time to think on it.

I did, and was about to agree when I found out that Riley beat me to the punch. She’s offered up her Pick-It-Clean junk removal services to the mob to do who knows what—most likely destroying the evidence of a homicide. It’s my best guess, and it was Jack’s, too, once I filled him in.

Neither Jack nor I are thrilled about it, and not just because the Morettis are dangerous, but because Riley by proxy isdragging her new beau and Jack’s rehab allergic brother, Jet, into the equation.

Too much danger, too many family members, not enough FBI.

I sigh up at her. “Stay out of my business from now on.”

The smile drops from her face as she leans in. “Erin is my business. If you can’t bring her home, I will.” She narrows her eyes on mine. “Buddy is getting extra bacon this morning,” she snips as she takes off.

“She knows I hate it when she does that,” I say as I look over at Jack. “It makes him thirsty.”

“Sounds to me like she’s thirsty for justice,” he counters.

“She needs to get in line.”

“Baxter.” Jack’s brows dip low as he leans my way with a frown settling on his face just for me. I’ll admit, he looks decidedly handsome this way, but I’ll be the last to stroke his ego with that fact. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to get in line. Marco said he gave her all the intel she needs to land Erin at our feet. We need to play nice—with her and with my brother. Get Riley to tell you what Marco said. We’ll take it from there—before they do.” He hitches his head toward the kitchen. “No offense to your sister, but we can’t risk a couple of idiots who think they’re superheroes running headfirst into danger. They could get themselvesandErin killed. And who knows how many others as well.” He glances to the kitchen once again and does a double take. “Speaking of idiots, here comes my least favorite.”

8

SPECIAL AGENT JACK STONE

“Jet,” I growl out my brother’s name as he offers up a goofy grin. “What the heck are you thinking?”

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