Start a War (Saint View Psychos #1)(26)

She waved a hand around, dismissing the conversation. “I came to ask you—oh my! What is that, and why is it in my house?”

“Again, it’s not your house. And it’s a little dog.”

“It’s a huge rat.”

Little Dog whimpered at my mother’s aggressive tone, and I quickly went to pick her up. “Don’t speak to her like that, please. She’s had a very tiresome few days.”

My mother winced away from Little Dog like she might suddenly turn savage and try to claw her eyes out. “Here.” She held out a bag.

I eyed it, already knowing what was very likely inside. “No.”

Mother raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. They were thicker now than I remembered them as a child. Like an ugly, thick caterpillar, just congregating with his friend above her eyes.

“No? You don’t even know what I was going to ask you.”

I put Little Dog down on my bed, and she immediately snuggled into the softness of my comforter. I frowned. Perhaps I should have bought her one of her own? Did they make comforters for dogs? I really didn’t know. I hadn’t had a pet for a very long time. “Mother, I do know what you’re going to ask me. Or at least a variation of it, because it’s the same thing you’ve been asking me ever since you brought me my first bag when I was twelve years old.”

“I might have just bought you ice cream at the store.”

I glanced over at the bag. “Chocolate?”

She shrugged. “No, it’s a job bag. You were right.” She leaned over and patted the side of my face. “Next time, I’ll bring ice cream too, deal?”

I shook my head, opening the bag and peering inside. As usual, it was a muddle of items. Things that had been fleeced from the intended victim either by whoever had hired us, or my father when he’d been doing initial surveillance. My mother’s handwriting filled a sheet of white paper, and I pulled it out, skimming over it.

“No.” I put it back in the bag and held it out to her. “I told you when I got out of prison that I wasn’t doing it anymore. I have other plans now.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh yes, of course. Silly me. The grand plan! How could I forget?”

I nodded. “Good. We’re in agreement.”

She shook her head. “My goodness. I’d forgotten how literal you are. Vincent. You do realize how ridiculous your plan is, don’t you?”

I straightened my shoulders. “Why do you think that? Other people have done it. My friend Heath from the prison? He has a family now. A woman. Two other men. A little boy, and they have a baby on the way. He’s happy.”

My mother’s eyes bulged. “A woman and two other men? What on earth kind of people did you meet in that jail?”

I didn’t answer. I was well aware that Heath’s arrangement wasn’t conventional, but the connection he had to the people he shared a life with were fascinating to me. I cared for all of them deeply.

Well, Officer Pritchard and the lawyer, Liam, less than Mae and Heath. But even I’d seen the way the four of them didn’t quite work with one missing. And then there was Ripley, their boy.

I smiled just thinking about my little friend, safe with his family. I hoped to see them again soon. After the police gave up on watching their property for any sign of me, that was.

“I want a family, Mother. A wife and a baby. I haven’t changed my mind on that. I didn’t start working at the daycare for fun, you know. I need to make sure I can be a good father.” I thought that over for a second, Bethany-Melissa springing to mind. “And a good husband.”

“So you’ll marry someone from within our circle. The Montgomerys have that daughter. You know, the one who’s always twisting a knife blade around in her fingers?”

I scrunched my face. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster. Two people who like knives in one house.”

“Or you could look at it as having something in common.” She clapped her hands abruptly, so loudly that Little Dog jumped. “I know! I’ll ask her to help you with the hit.”

I thrust the bag at her again. “Ask her to do the hit herself. Because I don’t want it.”

“Vincent, I’d really prefer it if you were just agreeable and didn’t make me resort to…” Mother’s gaze flickered to Little Dog. “Other measures.”

I ground my teeth. “If you so much as touch my dog…”

The sweetness in her voice was fake. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But, sweetheart, I really need you to take the hit. For me. One last time.”

I blew out a long breath, wishing she’d just leave. But I knew she wouldn’t. Not unless I did what she wanted. “This is the last one. Swear it.”

She put her hand on her heart and solemnly swore, “Last one. I promise.”

We both knew it wouldn’t be. It never was.





The daycare was already bustling when I got there at eight, but I spotted the only person I was truly interested in right away. Bethany-Melissa’s auburn hair stood out against the rest of the room, filled with various shades of brown, black, and blond.

That and the fact she was three feet taller than most of the occupants.

“Good morning, Mr. Vincent,” a small voice sang out at my feet.