Page 105 of My Mafia Queen

I hang up, slide my phone into my pocket, pick up the tray, and pace away.

The restaurant is busier than normal, considering that today is Monday, and this is the last thing I thought I’d be doing tonight.

Every time I walk through the tables, I keep an eye on the terrace. Except for my father, nobody knows that I’m here.

Still, I don’t want to run into Beau.

Around eleven, I thank the manager for letting me work tonight before I grab a sandwich from the kitchen and head outside.

The space behind the building is sunk in darkness, and my head is on a swivel as I cross the street, making a beeline for my car.

Nothing seems suspicious, yet I have a feeling I am not alone.

I look over my shoulder several times. No one has followed me. There’s not a soul in sight, and maybe that’s fueling my apprehension.

The car door groans as I pull it open.

I check the back bench and make sure my bag and gun are still there. Everything is how I left it.

A sigh of relief leaves my lips as I start the ignition, slam the door closed, and steer my ride away.

I check the rearview often, making sure no one is tailgating me.

Half an hour later, I enter the street where I grew up. To say I have mixed feelings about this place is an understatement.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to conjure a good memory from my childhood years. Something that hasn’t been tarnished.

I spot my father’s truck in the distance and my heart races.

Without looking over my shoulder, I reach back and drag my duffel bag to the front seat.

I turn off the headlights before stopping my car far from where my father has parked his truck.

Exhaling, I turn off the ignition. My hands are warm, and my cheeks burn.

Filled with jitters, I revisit my plan.

So…

I need to get my father off my back because I need a little more time.

For that to happen, I need to make him buy my version of the story, which is…‘I’m in town, working.’

Tina is at my aunt’s place because I work long shifts, and Edith can take better care of her.

I’m doing it for money––he likes to hear that a lot––and I’ll offer him the money that I have on me.

I’ll see how that goes.

I touch the roll of cash in my pocket before reaching inside my bag. Then I hesitate before pulling out the gun and tucking it in the back of my waistband.

“All right… Let’s do it,” I murmur to myself.

My jaw is tense, and my spine is stiff as I slide out of the driver’s seat.

I wear Jen’s work pants, an apron, and a button–down shirt.

My hand slides to my gun. I’ve never had a gun on me, but there’s a first for everything.

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