Page 9 of The Woman on the Jury

“For some reason, that doesn’t count. I think because he expects it to be his marriage, that somehow it will be more binding,” Lorenzo explained.

“We’re not going to fucking do it,” I said. Then, at their silence, I barked, “Right?”

“We don’t know what we’re doing right now. What we do know is Renzo is capable of making shit really difficult if we don’t come to some sort of agreement. Which is why, amongst a thousand other fucking things, I don’t have time for your explanation for what you did. What I need is for you to get your shit together. Get your house in order. Get your people kicking up like they used to. I don’t give a fuck if you have to be the bagman your goddamn self. Fix this shit.”

“I got it,” I agreed. “Anything else?”

“Talk to your ma,” he demanded.

“Already saw her,” I said.

“Then no,” he said, waving me away.

I didn’t expect a warm welcome.

And in the grand scheme of things, I’d gotten off easy.

I guess I could thank a busy schedule and Lorenzo’s overfilled plate for that.

“That was quick,” Ant said as I moved outside again.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You get your ass Made yet?” I asked.

“Working on it,” he said, but there was a muscle ticking in his jaw that suggested there was some sort of roadblock in his way.

It didn’t take much thought to figure out that the roadblock was his older brother, Emilio. Who probably thought he was protecting his brother. Or that he was too young for this shit. Forgetting that we’d all been Made when we were younger than Ant was now.

“You’ll get there,” I said, giving him a nod then starting to walk.

It was a lot of fucking blocks to my apartment, but after being inside for so long with nothing but a goddamn walking pad to get some steps in my day, the movement was welcome.

I needed to uncover the guns I’d been smart enough to stash outside of my place before the cops came with warrants and gleeful eyes, thinking they were going to find the murder weapon.

Then I needed to do exactly what Lorenzo said.

Get my house in order.

I didn’t like the idea that shit had fallen apart without me.

I’d thought I had run a tight ship, that it would stay on course even without me there to direct them.

Clearly, that faith had been misplaced.

And I would have to show everyone what I thought of that.

It was time to get my life back.

CHAPTER THREE

Halle

“Ugh,” I grumbled as I walked around the corner where all the antique, ornate, gold-framed mirrors were located, catching a look at myself for the first time since I’d rushed through brushing my teeth this morning before getting to the shop.

It was not pretty.

Apparently, working sixteen hours in a dark, dusty shop, hauling boxes and items all over the place, so there was actually walking space, didn’t do wonders for your appearance.

My brown hair was barely staying inside its jaw clip that I’d twisted it into that morning. My bangs were looking sweaty and lifeless, falling to the sides of my face.

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