Page 33 of Soulmate of the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #8)

PAIGE

A fter a full night’s—and afternoon’s—sleep, I managed to get up to go check in at the shelter the next day.

I’d kissed Tom before leaving, reminded him to rest, and told Miranda to stop him if he tried to get up for anything more than a bathroom break, but I didn’t really believe he’d last long.

Honestly, I’d be stunned if he was in bed when I got home.

Part of me understood the impulse. I’d woken this morning itching to get back to my life.

But I didn’t have a pneumo-whatever-the-fuck that could kill me if I wasn’t careful.

I parked in front of the shelter, shook out my shoulders, and put Tom’s inability to sit still behind me. I loved him, but I couldn’t live my whole life doting on him. Other people needed my doting.

I strode up the stairs of the shelter and blew a kiss to the picture of Dad on the wall.

For the first time, I understood why he’d gotten out of the mafia and why he’d gotten in in the first place.

But before I could even finish putting my keys in my pocket, Lauren rushed up to me and wrapped me in a bear hug.

“You didn’t answer if you were coming in today!” she yelled into my ear.

“And that means hearing damage. Got it.” I winced.

“Stop deflecting with humor and be excited to see me,” she demanded.

With a small smile, I hugged her back. Francis ran in small circles around our legs, barking softly.

I’d missed so much while I was in Egypt, but I didn’t realize how much my friends were part of that.

The days without Lauren—and, if I was being honest, Sera—carved a hole in my heart that refilled as I inhaled her faint, floral perfume.

Finally, she released me. “God. Okay. Lily is around somewhere, and so is Sera. We should round them up and have a meeting.” She touched her cheek as if she didn’t know she was still grinning wildly. “Once I look like a professional, maybe.”

I laughed. “Did you really miss me that much?”

“I was scared,” she said honestly. “I knew you said you were safe, but until I saw you walk in…”

I hugged her one more time, quickly. “I’ll get Sera; you get Lily.”

She nodded sharply and marched off, her grin still firmly in place.

After a possibly more exuberant reunion with Sera, the four of us convened in one of the smaller group rooms.

“Tell me everything.” I ran my hands over my jeans. “I just want to hop back in.”

A torrent of information came at me. Only three of the women we’d rescued from Egypt remained.

Some of the rooms had to be switched around because Daniela, from the Mansion, kept trying to convince people to sneak out and murder their abusers.

Lauren grimaced at that and said she was working on it.

Sera’s mom had found us a full-time food vendor who was already obsessed with Andi.

Altogether, things were running smoothly, but they’d be smoother with my help.

Exactly how I liked things.

I launched myself into the day. Paperwork, group, ironing out logistical wrinkles, and then a meeting I snuck onto the calendar with the three remaining women from Egypt. I sat across from them at a small table.

“Hi,” I said. “I don’t know if you remember me?—”

“You’re Paige,” one of the women, a dark-haired one I vaguely remembered who hung around Cora, said. “This is your shelter.”

The other two women nodded.

“Yeah.” I smiled.

She stuck out her hand. “I’m Allie.”

I shook it, and she introduced the other two women as Gina and Monica. The three of them either hadn’t been able to reconnect with family yet, or didn’t have family to reconnect with. I hadn’t really had a plan when I walked into the room, but the more Allie talked, the more certain I grew.

“Zahur had me almost six months ago now,” I said.

My story poured out. I told them about the women I knew in there, how Tom had saved me, how I’d vowed to go back and had clawed my way up through other bastards to get there.

They hung on my every word as I explained how, at the last moment, I’d decided I couldn’t face Zahur and stayed at the hotel, then how he’d found me and dragged me out.

I skimmed a few details, then ended on stabbing him and leaving him bleeding out.

“So…he’s really dead?” Allie asked tremulously.

“I checked myself.” I tried to smile, but something about this part of the story made it hard.

The women burst into conversation, thanking me, asking me how I’d done it, why I’d built the shelter, everything. I tried to answer their questions, but abruptly, my confession felt more like bragging. Not just that, bragging about murder. He was an awful man, but?—

Allie hugged me. They all hugged me, and I stood there with them until they were ready to let go. And as soon as they did, I said my goodbyes and headed for Lauren’s office. She invited me in when I knocked.

“Hey.” I dropped onto her couch.

“Hi.” She looked at me. “How was your meeting?”

I scowled. “How do you always know why I’m here?”

She wiggled her fingers. “Therapist ESP. Talk to me.”

“I told them Zahur was dead, and they started celebrating.” I frowned. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“How do you feel about killing him?” She circled around her desk and leaned against the front.

I probed the memories, reaching for feelings. I remembered my panic in the moment before, the overwhelm of after. But during?

“Numb, I guess,” I said. “Not bad. Just not anything.”

“That makes sense.” She smiled. “If you walked in less than a month after killing someone, even someone who deserved it, totally well-adjusted, I’d tell you to get your head checked.”

I rolled my eyes. “So there’s more processing to do?”

“The work is never done.” She laughed as she returned to her chair. “Speaking of, I’ve got an appointment in two. Talk more later?”

I nodded and headed back out into the hall. Maybe the work would never be done. But as I checked on the women in the common room, I thought that might not be such a bad thing.