THE WAITRESS AND THE MAFIA KING

The silence in the apartment was deafening.

Mara stared at the back of the photograph, her mind spinning wildly. Her father. The man whose erratic moods had taught her to read rooms, to watch for hidden hands. He hadn't just abandoned them; he had been involved with the Cross family.

"You didn't know," Julian stated. It wasn't a question. He was reading her just as accurately as she read her restaurant customers. He saw the genuine, paralyzing shock in her eyes.

"No," Mara breathed, stepping back. "My father walked out when I was twelve. I haven't seen him in twenty years. He was a gambler. A drunk. Not a—"

"Not a hitman?" Julian finished for her. He slipped the photograph into his jacket. "My brother's death was a hit. If your father was the driver, then the man at Table Nine wasn't just coming for me tonight. He was coming for you, too. Tying up loose ends."

He grabbed her duffel bag. "We are leaving. Now."

The drive to the safe house was a blur of neon streetlights and heavy silence. The property was a sprawling, modern fortress hidden behind iron gates in the northern suburbs.

When they walked through the heavy oak doors, the tension was momentarily broken by the patter of small feet.

"Uncle Jules!"

A little boy, no older than six, came sprinting down the hallway in superhero pajamas. He launched himself at Julian, wrapping his arms around Julian's legs.

Julian's hardened exterior instantly fractured. He dropped the bags and scooped the boy up, resting his chin against the kid's dark hair. "Hey, Leo. Why are you awake past nine?"

"I had a bad dream," Leo mumbled into Julian's shoulder.

"This is my nephew, Leo," Julian told Mara, his voice remarkably gentle. "Elias's son."

Mara felt a hard lump form in her throat. The man her father supposedly helped murder was the father of this sweet, sleepy child. The guilt, though entirely misplaced, was heavy.

"Hi, Leo," Mara smiled softly, stepping closer.

Leo lifted his head. He looked at Mara with big, curious brown eyes. But as she reached out to pat his arm, her sleeve slid up, revealing a thick, braided gold bracelet on her wrist. It had been her mother's.

Leo gasped, shrinking back against Julian's neck.

"What's wrong, buddy?" Julian asked, frowning.

Leo pointed a shaking finger at Mara's wrist. "She has the bad man's jewelry."

Mara froze. "What?"

"The bad man who came to the house before Daddy died," Leo whispered, his voice trembling. "He had a shiny gold rope on his wrist. Just like hers. He yelled at Daddy."

Julian looked at Mara's bracelet. The braided pattern was distinct, custom-made.

Before either of them could speak, the front door burst open.