Page 18 of The Mobster's Angel

He really has thought of everything. Pancakes, with side dishes of berries, melted chocolate, and syrup. There’s also bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I just asked Stephen to do a little of everything.”

“You have a cook?”

He pours me a cup of coffee and then passes the milk and sugar across the table. “I have a lot of people working for me.”

The atmosphere around us changes slightly. It goes from light and sunny to something a little darker. It’s like he knows what I’m about to ask, and he’s bracing himself for it.

“What is it that you do?”

He puts his elbow down on the table and rests his chin in his hand. “Do you want the real answer or the answer that’ll make you feel better?”

“I-I… I don’t know.”

I don’t even know what that means.

“You don’t need to know,” he says. “For you, I’m just Jack. I’ll never let any harm come to you. I’ll never bring any shit home to your door. You can live your life with me happily ignorant. Tell your grandmother I’m an accountant or an oilman. Maybe that’d make it easier.”

I look down at the strawberries for no reason other than it’s something to look at.

“But if you want to know, I’ll let you in. I just don’t want you to be scared when there’s nothing to be scared of.”

I swallow. “Does what happened in the pawnshop have something to do with it?”

“Yes,” he says. “The Rossi family owed me a lot of money. They fucked us both over when they left.”

“So you were… fucking them over back?”

He smiles. “You stole their car. I destroyed every business they owned in a single day.”

I lean back in my chair.

My thoughts are swirling.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Or what I’m supposed to think.

Just this morning when I woke up, I thought this was too good to be true.

And now it seems like I was right.

I look over at Jack, who’s staring at me intently.

Maybe he is right, and it’s better if I don’t know all the details. But I can put two and two together, regardless of how much I know.

“Do you… Have you killed people?”

He takes a drink of his coffee and places it back down on the hardwood table. “Yes.”

My stomach twists.

This is too much.

I get up from the table, feeling an overwhelming urge to be alone.

Jack is up a second later, and he’s on me before I manage to get five steps away.

“Olivia.”

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