The elevator doors open, and I half expect Kristin to be standing in the hallway waiting for me, but the scent of bacon and eggs wafts from the kitchen. Leaning against the door, I take a moment to process the events of the past twelve hours.
I feel guilty about leaving her alone last night, but not half as guilty as I do for telling Joey to leave with her brothers. The look on her face almost broke me. But it was the only option. They wouldn’t have given up easily. We would have only ended up nearly killing each other, and I don’t want that either. At the end of the day, those men are my brothers. It would kill me to lose them, but I will if that’s what it takes. Because I would die a thousand painful deaths before I willingly lost Joey Moretti.
At least I know she’s safe with her brothers. Plus, now that I’m not welcome in their house, I can focus all my attention on finding Kristin’s father. I figure I’ll get some answers by following every lead I can get my hands on. Then I can tell Joey everything and stop keeping secrets from her. And hopefully Dante and Lorenzo will have cooled off enough for me to tell them that I’m in love with their sister. It will all work out perfectly, right? So why does it hurt so fucking much to be away from her?
“Max, is that you?” Kristin calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I shout as I walk down the hallway.
“You want some?” she asks, her back to me as she works at the stove.
“Sure.”
I take a seat at the kitchen island, and she turns to greet me. Her smile fades quickly. “What the hell happened to your face?”
I brush my fingertips over the cut above my eye. Dante has a mean right hook. “Oh, it was nothing.”
Hands on hips, she approaches me, and she looks so much like our mom that it takes me back over twenty years. I never think about my mom. She walked out on me, and as far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t deserve a second of my time. But having Kristin here has brought back all kinds of memories I’d rather forget. How great Mom was at making pancakes. Her laugh. How she would try to scowl when she yelled at me but could never quite manage it. How she always smelled of flowers. Those kinds of memories hurt, so I bury them deep. It’s easier to focus on the fact that she cheated on my father with his own brother and then left her only son when he was thirteen years old because she wanted an easier life.
It would be easy to resent my little sister, who only got the best of her. But I suppose she didn’t get much; Mom died when she was six.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” she says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Was it anything to do with my dad?”
“No. It was …” What the hell do I say?
“Was it about a girl?” Her eyes widen and she grins.
“I guess.”
“Who is she?”
“Bacon and eggs, yeah?” I nod at the stove, changing the subject away from my fucked-up love life.
She grumbles and goes back to cooking.
I watch her add more bacon to the pan. She was a terrible cook a few days ago, but she seems to be a quick study. Her dad must have done all the cooking at home. I wonder what kind of father he was to her. My own dad did the best he could. It was just the two of us after Mom left, at least for a couple of years. He was never the same after she betrayed him with his own brother. He lost his edge; all the fight went out of him. He was like a shadow—drifting through life, constantly distracted by something he could never fix—so distracted that he didn’t see the knife the guy pulled on him until it was too late.
“I’m gonna go to Jersey tomorrow morning. See what leads I can follow up there. Maybe I can find that safety deposit box.”
Kristin turns off the stove and plates up the food before carrying it over to the kitchen island. “You want me to come with you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You’ll be safer here.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t like being here alone, Max.”
“I know, but you were fine last night, right? And it will be one night. Two tops.”
“I …” Her lips tremble.
I grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “I get why you’re scared, Kristin. Your dad didn’t come back, but I’m not him. I’ll be back soon with some answers. But I’m getting nowhere fast here, and the longer your dad is out there …”
“I know.” She gives me a firm nod. “I need to put on my big girl pants and handle it.”
“Good.” I wink at her and start tucking into my bacon and eggs.
“Have you had any leads about Jakob?”
“No. But I have a guy looking into him for me.”
“He’s not a bad guy, Max,” she says with a sigh, and I realize I’m scowling. “He didn’t know I was pregnant. As far as he knows, I just disappeared one day. We even used different names when we were in Philly. He knew me as Kristin Campbell.”
“But he never told you where he lived. You had no way of contacting him? What guy does that unless he’s playing you?”
“I did have a way of contacting him,” she insists, her brow furrowed with annoyance. “I had his number until Dad tossed my phone.”
“Hmm,” I mumble, unconvinced of her faith in the guy.
“Look, all I’m saying is that if you do find him, you don’t have to go all psycho big brother on him. Okay? He might act like an asshole when he finds out about the baby, but we won’t know until I tell him.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “Psycho big brother?”
“Yeah.” She laughs softly. “But I kinda like having you as my big brother.”
“I kinda like it too, sis,” I admit.
I have my hand wrapped around some guy’s throat when my phone rings. I came to talk to a few of Uncle Vito’s buddies from back in the day to see if I could get any information on his acquaintances before I leave tomorrow. One of them decided to be a smart-ass and told me to go to hell, and since I was already in the mood for a fight, I punched him in the face and now I’m choking the life out of him.
I take my phone out of my pocket and smile when I see who’s calling. “My girl just saved your fucking life, asshole,” I tell him, shoving him to the ground. “Stay!” I warn him when he starts to scramble away.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hi.”
“You okay?”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too, baby girl.”
The piece of shit on the floor goes to move again, so I stand on his hand, pressing all my weight onto it and crushing his fingers. He starts to howl, and I hold my finger to my lips as a warning. He clamps his mouth shut.
“When can I see you?” she asks, and the plea in her voice makes me falter. What if I just went to her house tonight and forced my way in? Made Dante and Lorenzo see how fucking much I adore her and that I’m the only man they should trust to protect her as well as they can?
Fuck, I can’t. Not yet. I owe it to Kristin to give finding her father a proper shot. “A few days, baby. I told you that.”
“How many is a few?”
“Two. Maybe three.”
“That’s too long.” She lowers her voice and practically purrs, “I need you.”
God, I fucking need her too. “I need you too. As soon as I’ve taken care of this thing, I’m coming for you.”
“Will you be safe?”
“Always, baby girl. Because I will always come back to you.”
“I miss you, Max.”
Fuck, hearing those words from her lips makes my heart and my cock ache painfully. “I miss you too, baby. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow when I get a chance.”
I end the call and turn my attention back to the dipshit on the floor. Taking my foot off his hand, I stare down at him as he pulls it toward his body and sobs quietly. “Should you hear anything from Vito, or any of his old associates, you tell them Max DiMarco is looking for him. You hear me?”
Snot runs down the guy’s face as he nods.
I turn and walk away from him. There’s no use looking for Vito here in Chicago. New Jersey is where I’ll find my answers.
“You sure you don’t want me to come to the airport with you?” Kristin asks as I throw my bag over my shoulder.
“No. Do not leave this apartment under any circumstances until I get back.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Not even if it’s on fire?”
“As long as you don’t attempt any more awful cooking, it won’t catch fire, will it?”
She fakes a scowl. “Hey, I made you bacon and eggs yesterday.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“You’ll be two days at the very most?”
“Yes.” I don’t plan to spend any longer than necessary in New Jersey, hundreds of miles away from Joey. Being apart from her, even while we’re in the same city, is the most agonizing torture. I make a mental note to call her from the cab. It’s been way too long since I heard her voice.
I give Kristin a hug. “I’ll check in with you as soon as I land.”
“And if I don’t hear from you?”
“You will. As soon as I land,” I promise. “I have to go. My cab will be outside.”
“Be careful, Max. My father was a very cautious man, and they still got to him.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her.
The cab is on the street by the time I get downstairs. I’m just about to pull the car door open when a woman with a stroller bumps into me and drops a bag of groceries at my feet. “I’m so sorry,” she exclaims.
“No problem.” I crouch down to help her pick up the items that spilled out, and she ducks down beside me. Smiling sweetly, she takes hold of my hand and something pricks my skin. “Night, night, pretty boy,” in a thick Russian accent are the last words I hear.
