Page 1 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

Kenner, Louisiana

“See you tomorrow!” Naomi Cranston waved to her boss as she left the flower shop. Pausing on the sidewalk, she drew in a deep breath of fresh air and tilted her face to what was left of the sun.

The warmth on her skin felt so good.

So free.

After five years of incarceration, Naomi would never take the sun for granted again. After five years of incarceration, Naomi would never take life for granted again.

She certainly would never trust the system to protect her again. Her innocence had never once entered into the equation. NOPD had wanted a scapegoat and they’d chosen her.

She’d never be anyone’s scapegoat again.

But at least I’m out of that place. She still bore the scars of prison, both on her skin and on her soul. A year of freedom hadn’t changed that.

Shaking off the lingering bitterness, Naomi headed to the fifteen-year-old Volvo that had seen better days. It wasn’t the nice car she’d driven before, but it got her to work and back home.

Home wasn’t the nice house she’d had before, either, but her new place was in a decent neighborhood and had a bedroom for Everett.

Her heart hurt at the thought of her son. He hated the weekends he spent with her, retreating to his room and only emerging for food after she’d gone to bed.

He hated her now. And, based on the lies his father had told about her, Naomi couldn’t blame him. It broke her heart, but she understood.

An overturned conviction wasn’t the same as a statement of innocence.

But at least I’m out of that place.

Chin lifted, shoulders back, steps measured, she strode to her car with faked confidence. It was how she got through each day.

Eye contact was the hardest, because she knew what she’d see in the expressions of others. Hardly anyone believed she hadn’t done it.

Her mother believed in her innocence, as did her new boss.

But not Everett.

Her shoulders sagged as she reached her car. He wouldn’t be home when she got there. He’d find a friend to go home with. Sometimes she got a text telling her where he was, but that was rare.

Her heart ached at being shut out of his life.

She opened the car door, only to have it shoved closed.

She froze, now aware of the man standing behind her. She could see his face reflected in the car’s window and her aching heart skipped a beat.

No. It couldn’t be.

But it was.

He’d paid her a visit six years ago, changing the course of her life. Because of this man she was an ex-con.

Slowly she turned. Chin up, shoulders back. “Yes?”

“Mrs.Haywood?”

“No.” She’d changed her name after her divorce. Had gone back to her maiden name. Which would make no difference to the man giving her a leering appraisal.

Her skin crawled, but she held her ground. Don’t let them see your fear.

She’d learned that on day one inside. She still had the jagged scars to prove it.

He shrugged. To him, she was a tool. A toy. A convenient scapegoat.

His face was imprinted in her memory. He’d lied so smoothly when he’d taken the witness stand against her.

The jury had believed every word.

That she hadn’t taken the stand in her own defense had sealed her fate. She’d known it at the time, but…

She swallowed but said nothing. It was a power play she now knew well. Make them speak first.

He huffed a labored sigh. “We have a job for you,” he finally said.

She had no interest in anything this man was selling. “No.”

He looked amused. “No?”

Bile burned her throat. “ No. ”

He smiled broadly. “He goes to school at St. Basil.”

Her heart skipped another hard beat. No. No, no, no. Not again. Please. Not again. Not Everett.

But no one was listening to her prayers. Not six years ago and not now.

“He leaves to catch the bus at seven thirty every morning,” he went on, chuckling at the fear she could no longer suppress.

“Unless he drives himself, and then he leaves at eight fifteen. After school, he plays basketball at the Y. His friends are Gerry, Caden, and Steven. Usually he goes home with one of them. Has dinner with their families. Not with you. Not even on his weekends with you.”

She started to retreat, but her back hit her car door. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere she could hide.

“All we want is for you to carry a few packages in your flower van. You’re making a ton of deliveries right now—to hotels, party venues, everywhere people gather to celebrate. Flowers are so nice, don’t you agree?”

She said nothing. Her throat had closed and no words would come.

He frowned. “I said, don’t you agree, Mrs.Haywood?”

“No,” she said, but more quietly. “I won’t do your bidding.”

“Then your son will suffer.” He put on a sad face that was as fake as her confidence had been. “Hasn’t he suffered enough? What with his mama going to jail for stealing from the NOPD?”

“You know I didn’t.”

“Everyone believes you did.”

And that was true. Everyone but her mother and her new boss.

He winked at her. “And if you tell your ex that your son is in danger, he’ll have grounds to yank your custody faster’n you can say ‘You’re guilty.’?”

That was also true. Her ex would be calling his attorney seconds after her call, were she to tell him.

But she wasn’t going to do this man’s dirty work. She’d die first.

And she just might if she denied him.

She wouldn’t be missed by too many if she turned up dead.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why me?”

His fake jocularity disappeared as he leaned closer, his face only an inch from hers. “Because you never should have gotten out.” The words dripped with venom. “We had a deal, Mrs.Haywood. You cheated us. We don’t abide cheaters.”

She might have laughed at his hypocrisy had she not been so damn scared of him.

“We’ll drop off your first package on Monday.” He took a step back, tipped his ball cap. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mrs.Haywood.”

It’s Miss Cranston, you sonofabitch , she wanted to snarl.

But she didn’t. She didn’t say a word as she watched him saunter away.

She didn’t say a word as she got into her car and drove to her little house. Her empty little house. Because Everett wasn’t home. He would slide in around nine and go right to his room.

Maybe he’d be better off without me.

Maybe I should just let Jimmy have full custody.

But that wouldn’t stop them from hurting her son. It wouldn’t matter where Everett was or who he was living with. They’d make good on their threat. Of that she had no doubt.

And then Everett would hate her even more than he already did.

Woodenly she got out of her car and went inside. It smelled like the peanut butter cookies she’d made for Everett the night before.

Cookies he’d left on the kitchen counter, untouched.

She dropped her purse on a chair and went straight to the bathroom, where she sank to her knees in front of the toilet and vomited up everything she’d eaten that day.

She had a Glock in the gun safe in her bedroom. It was loaded. She could just end her life on her own terms. It was tempting.

Because if she did what they wanted, Everett would be safe, but she’d end up back in prison. Prison was a given. But Everett’s safety was not. They might still hurt him.

She couldn’t let that happen.

There had to be something she could do. Someone she could go to for help.

But there wasn’t.

She was on her own.

And she was terrified.