Page 20 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)

NINETEEN

Olivia

T wo days later, I come downstairs to find Sam in the kitchen.

I haven't seen him much since he took me home to see my grandfather.

His men have been around the house and his staff has made sure I'm well fed, but for the most part, I've been alone.

Staring at the ceiling and reading whatever fiction book I found in his library.

There aren't many — apparently, he's a non-fiction kind of guy.

Sam is sitting at the breakfast table, sipping on a cup of coffee while the news blares on the small television. He barely glances up as the newscaster speaks.

"The body of Damien Romano, a local known associate of the Costello crime family, has been found dead under suspicious circumstances."

I freeze. Behind the newscaster, there are several police officers and medical examiners pulling a body out of the Bayou.

I can't see the man, but even if I could, I'm sure his body is torn up from being there for days.

Sam doesn't even flinch as he brings his coffee to his lips again and takes another sip.

"The body was discovered earlier today in a remote area of the Bayou, where investigations are ongoing.

While details remain scarce, sources reveal that the prime suspect in this case is none other than the head of the Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club, Kade Marcellus, a rival gang embroiled in a long-standing feud with the Costello family. "

A mugshot of Kade is displayed on the corner of the screen, showing a middle-aged man with graying hair, tanned skin, and a smug look on his face.

I swallow the lump in my throat. The Serpents are as famous in New Orleans as the Costellos are.

Both for their criminal enterprises, but the Serpents are known to be more… gruesome.

"Local law enforcement is urging anyone with information to come forward, as tensions rise in the community.

Residents are encouraged to remain vigilant as they await further updates on this alarming situation.

Stay tuned for more details as they emerge, and we will be following this story closely. We'll be right back after the break."

They want anyone with information to come forward? But the only person with information on that murder is… me.

"Good morning, Olivia." Sam's voice breaks me out of my trance. The commercials end, and they’re back in the studio with puppies running around as the anchors encourage viewers to adopt not shop. Sam isn't watching, though, his dark eyes completely focused on me.

"Good morning," I squeak out, causing his lips to tilt into a lopsided smirk.

Sam lifts his napkin, dabbing at the corners of his mouth before dropping it onto the plate of crumbs. He rises from the seat so he's standing in front of me, and his height forces me to look up to meet his gaze.

"You should have some breakfast before you go to work today," he says simply, as if the statement doesn't cause my brain to short circuit.

"You're letting me go to work?"

Sam smirks, and it’s one that screams this comes with strings. "Yes. Roman will be joining you, and you'll stay within his sight all day. I want you back in time for dinner."

I resist the urge to argue that it's a bar and the prime time is in the evenings. But it's also a Monday, which is the one day a week we're closed. Today, I'd just catch up on admin work and do some more cleaning, so I save my fighting for a time it matters more. Instead, I nod in agreement.

"Thank you," I say softly, feeling pathetic that I'm thanking him, but it feels like the right thing to say, to stroke his ego so he continues letting me live my life.

The last thing I want is for him to think I'm a threat.

Someone who could go to the authorities and have him sent back to prison.

I shudder.

"Eat." Sam gestures to the table, where platters of bacon, eggs, and pastries sit. "Roman will take you to the bar when you’re ready." Sam nods behind him, and I spin around, seeing that there's another man in the kitchen.

The new man, Roman, nods in greeting. "I'll be out here," is all he says before stepping out of the room.

"One last thing," Sam says. "You'll want this." He reaches into his pocket before extending an old iPhone to me. My old iPhone. "I added my contact. You'll call me if you need anything." It’s a demand.

Sam spins on his heel, about to leave, when I stop him. "Wait! How did you get into my phone to add your number?"

The corners of his lips lift into a sly smile. "Your passcode is your birthday, Olivia. Not very original." Then he turns again, heading out the door.

"How do you know my birthday?" I call out after him, but he doesn't turn around, just leaves me with the echoes of his laughter.