Page 26 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

“How’s everything back home?” I scan the lot- empty pavement, a lone sedan parked by the office, the faint hum of a delivery truck a few blocks over. Quiet, but quiet never means safe.

“Dunno if you’ve checked the group chat, but the chandelier in the main hall fell down.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, smashed right through the dining table during breakfast. Scared the hell outta everyone. Nobody hurt, though, except maybe Grady’s pride.”

“Grady Garrow? The stable hand?”

“Not anymore. Now he’s the closest thing Wesley Hall has to a janitor, plumber, and therapist rolled into one. Arthur’s been handling the repairs. He’s been busy- focusing on the staff and getting everything in line since we got here. Arthur's got a knack for getting things done…hisway. When the kitchen staff ignored his new cleaning rota, he didn’t just have a meltdown- he took matters into his own hands. Made sure they wouldn’t forget who runs things around here. He had a few of the staff ‘reassigned’- nothing too dramatic, just a reminder that there's only one way to do things under his watch. If they didn’t want to follow the rules, he threatened to replace them with kids from the orphanage. They sure as hell straightened up after that.”

I blink, ignoring half of what he said. “Why the fuck is Grady a therapist now?”

“Apparently, he and his missus, the housekeeper, have been the go-to for people needing to vent about the Warwicks since, well, forever. Claims they’ve listened to everything from love confessions to murder plots. Says he keeps a bottle of whiskey handy just to get through half of it.”

“Holy shit… since when has Ms. McAllister been his wife?” That’s news to me. I’ve only ever known her as the sharp-tongued housekeeper who could shame even the most hardened mobster with a raised eyebrow.

Roger grins. “She’s Mrs. Garrow now. Oh yeah. And here’s the fun part- they’ve been hooking up for years. They got married a few months ago. Grady swears she bosses him around at home and at work, but the way he talks about her? It’s clear he wouldn’t have it any other way. Yep, between the two of them, they know more Warwick secrets than all the skeletons in the family crypt. Grady’s a walking encyclopedia of Warwick dirt.”

I shake my head. “And you’ve learned all this in what- three days?”

“Two and a half,” Roger corrects. “Grady likes to talk when you refill his flask.”

“Anything else I should know about?” I ask.

Roger’s voice takes on a more serious tone. “Yeah, Achilles has been blowing up all our phones. You wanna tell me why?”

I grimace. “How much do you know?”

“That you followed his sister to America and now you’re both in the wind. Did you really kill two of his men?”

“They were trying to kill her first,” I say, probably a bit too defensively.

Roger whistles low. “Wild. So what do you need from me?”

“I need somewhere to lay low. Somewhere nice enough that Fantasia won’t completely hate me for dragging her there.”

“And remote enough that no one can find you,” Roger adds. “Give me a minute.”

I hear his fingers flying over his keyboard.

The creak of a door makes me glance down the row of rooms. A woman steps out, tugging on her too-short skirt and cursing under her breath. Her heels click loudly on the cracked concrete as she turns back to the man lingering in the doorway.

“You think fifty’s gonna cut it?” she snaps, hands on her hips.

“You got what you came for,” the man drawls, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Yeah, a sore back and a bad time,” she fires back. “Double it, or I’m going straight to the manager.”

“If you know what’s good for, you better get outta here or I’ll call ICE on you.”

Her eyes flash. “Fuck you!” she snaps. “I’ve had worse threats than that, but I’m still here, still breathing.”

The man shrugs, unimpressed. “Just sayin’... if you don’t want to end up back at the border, you should probably get lost.”

“Cheap bastard,” she mutters, storming off toward the beat-up sedan in the lot.

Shit. Their romance novel gone wrong jogs my memory about my bigger problem: staying under the radar. “Roger, forge me whatever paperwork I need to pass as a U.S. citizen.”

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