Page 6 of Twisted Trust (Mafia Lords of Sin #10)

MAEVE

C hild Protective Services? Here? Now?

I glance at the beaten-up plastic clock hanging within view in my kitchen.

It’s seven in the morning.

Why the hell are they here so early?

Why are they here at all?

My heart starts to hammer faster and faster as Hillary once again knocks abruptly on the door.

“Miss Jackson!”

Shit .

I fake a yawn to hide how alert their sudden visit has made me and slowly unlock the door. “I’m here, Jesus. It’s so early.”

Opening it, Hillary Sinclair stands on the other side with a folder clutched in one hand and her keys dangling from an obnoxiously overcrowded keychain in the other.

Her graying hair is scooped painfully back from her face and held in place by several pins, and oval spectacles balance on the end of her pointed nose.

“About time,” she says stiffly.

“Sorry I didn’t move fast enough after being woken up at the ass crack of dawn.” Talking smart to Hillary is never a good idea, but I’d rather she think I’m irritable from sleep than stressed for any other reason.

Hillary glances up from the file in her arm and her eyes widen into saucers. “Miss Jackson…” Trailing off, she steps past me and into my apartment. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

“I’m sure I have no clue.” Closing the door after her, I turn to face Hillary and immediately catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window behind her.

My throat is a patchwork of dark bruises, gauze peeks out from the collar of my housecoat, a bruise shadows my left eye, and several stitches cling to the laceration on my forehead.

My tongue nervously darts out to lick the scabbed split on my lower lip and I force a smile. “But I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”

“We’ve had another complaint about you, Miss Jackson. Where is your son?”

As if on cue, Scott stumbles out of his bedroom and upon seeing Hillary, he immediately makes a beeline for me as his eyes fill with tears. “Mommy!”

I scoop him up as soon as he reaches me.

His small arms wrap tight around my neck and he buries his face into my shoulder. “He was sleeping,” I say coldly. “But I’m not the only one woken by your insane knocking so early in the morning.”

“It’s necessary in these situations,” Hillary says as her eyes roam over my face. “We were alerted to your placing your son in a very dangerous situation involving the discharge of a firearm?”

How the fuck do they know about that?

Was this Levi?

This must be his punishment for my sneaking out of the hospital.

Complain about me to CPS and then track them as they hunt me down for a visit.

Clever bastard.

“If by situation you mean when I was mugged yesterday, then sure. But I didn’t put him in any kind of dangerous situation by choice. I was mugged in a parking lot. Lost my keys, my wallet, everything. It’s a wonder I even survived.”

Hillary finally looks me in the eye. “Where was Scott at the time of the incident?”

“Right next to me.”

“I understand you were knocked unconscious.”

My gut somersaults. “For a time. But some kind passersby found me and called an ambulance.”

Although now that I say it out loud, I don’t exactly know how I made it to the hospital. I never had a chance to ask the nurse.

“Understandably, a mugging isn’t your fault. I trust you’ve filed a police report?”

“Mommy,” Scott whines as he lifts his head from my shoulder.

“What is it, baby?”

“I’m hungry.”

“I know, sweetie. I’ll fix you something once Hillary leaves.”

Scott turns his big eyes to Hillary and scowls.

I’ve done my best to keep him away from the multiple dealings I’ve had with CPS over these past months, but he picks up on things I’d never even consider. “Go away,” Scott mutters.

“You’re welcome to continue your normal morning routine while we talk,” Hillary says sweetly, although I hear the glee in her voice.

If she thinks she’ll find something dodgy about how I prepare breakfast, then she’s way ahead of herself.

“Fine.” Keeping Scott on my hip as much as it pains my aching body, I move past the threadbare couch to the kitchen and quickly whip up a bowl of cereal for Scott.

Each time I try to put him down, he latches onto my leg and won’t let go, so I end up sitting him in my lap so he can eat.

“He seems unusually attached to you,” Hillary comments. “Any reason why?”

It takes all my self-restraint not to ask her if she’s thick. “He watched me get hurt yesterday. I suppose that would affect any four-year-old.”

Hillary scribbles something quickly on her notes.

“Look, what is this about? I didn’t harm Scott. He’s not in any danger. I was mugged. That’s it. I don’t know who reported me or what they hope to gain, but I have done nothing wrong.”

Hillary lifts her head and adjusts her glasses. “Given your history, we have to follow up on these kinds of complaints.”

“My history? Every one of those complaints you’ve ever followed has been bull— empty. I’m not the only parent who takes their kid to work or is late on pick up. It doesn’t make me neglectful.”

Hillary returns to her notes and sighs. “I’ll ask you again, Miss Jackson. Have you filed a police report?”

Shit.

I have no intention of filing a police report because doing so would create the risk of being tracked down.

But if Levi is behind this, then is there really any point in hiding? “Not yet. I was in the hospital and then I came home and slept.”

“You left the hospital against medical advice. Vanished, in fact.” She fixes me with a steely look and I tighten my grip on Scott’s waist as he wolfs down his frosted flakes.

“I wanted to get my son home.”

“And your injuries, could they have posed a threat to your caring for your son?”

“Clearly not,” I reply tightly. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you, would I?”

“The risk remains,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Sure.” Every word from her feels like an accusation. My heart won’t stop pounding and the painkillers have swiftly worn off.

The last thing I want to do is take pills in front of her, so I need her to leave.

Immediately.

“Who reported me?” Not that it would be anyone else.

“These reports of concern are made anonymously,” Hillary says and she stands. “Mind if I take a look around?”

I mind greatly, but the game doesn’t care how I think or feel.

There are probably real children out there in need of dire help, and instead, Hillary wastes her time with me, all because my old boss back at one of the casinos reported me for bringing my kid to work one day.

It was just one day when I was still working in catering.

A mistake, but Hillary’s had it out for me ever since I talked my way out of it.

“Sure,” I sigh, turning my attention to Scott. “Make yourself at home.”

Hillary stays for twenty minutes wandering my apartment, likely looking for something to pin on me, but she finds nothing.

In the end, all she can do is leave while giving me a verbal warning to send her the police report once it’s filed.

As she leaves, Cameron exits his apartment and greets me with a smiling yawn.

“Wow, what did you do to deserve a visit from her?”

“Honestly?” I say as I try to detangle Scott from my leg. “My existence.”

“Doesn’t she have anything better to do?” He frowns, watching her over the edge of the railing as she returns to her car.

“I’m her pet project. She’ll never leave—Scott, honey, you have to let go. Mommy can’t walk if you cling to me like that.”

Scott whines and my heart breaks. Given how terrible yesterday was, I don’t blame him for wanting to stay close by but if he clings any tighter, I’m going to be late for work.

“Aw,” Cameron croons softly. “Poor little guy.”

“I know—” Shit, the activity center.

School probably isn’t the wisest choice for Scott right now, but I definitely can’t take him to work.

“Is there any chance you could watch him today?” I invite Cameron into my apartment with a tilt of my head.

“I’ve got a shift in an hour and I don’t want to send him to pre-school after yesterday.

I’m sure Hillary will love that, but I’m also behind on payments to the activity center because of my rent and?—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Cameron ends my rushed proposal by placing his warm hand on my shoulder. “I can watch him. Although, are you sure you want to work today?” His eyes dart back and forth across my face. “You look… rough.”

“Oh, thanks.” Groaning dramatically, I switch Scott from one hip to the other. “Are you sure you can watch him?”

“Absolutely.”

“How does that sound, Scott? Do you wanna stay with Uncle Cameron today?”

“No!” Scott whines and one tiny fists ends up in my hair. “I wanna stay with you!”

“Oh, actually…” I lock eyes with Cameron and my brow pinches.

If I’m right about Levi reporting me to CPS, then he could appear at any moment. “Could you maybe take him out for the day? I don’t want him to be here.”

“Sure.” Cameron’s mouth twists, slightly confused. “Any reason why?”

Covering Scott’s ear, I lean closer to Cameron. “My shitty ex showed up and I’m worried he’ll drop by looking for me. I don’t want either of you dealing with that.”

“Oh, wow.” Cameron nods quickly. “You got it.”

It takes fifteen minutes of persuading before I’m able to pry Scott off me.

Every fiber in my body wants to stay with him but with CPS breathing down my neck and overdue payments at the activity center, I can’t afford to take a day off.

Showering alerts me to the bad bruising to my ribs and right leg, but I push it all down in my mind and lock it away.

Several painkillers and a thousand kisses over my son’s face later, I make it to work by the skin of my teeth.

Cameron promises to text me regular updates throughout the day so I can soothe myself about how Scott is doing.

Work is a tough distraction.

I have three hen parties to manage and one business meeting that starts as lunch and turns into a three-hour drinking celebration along the strip.

Ensuring that everything runs smoothly involves spending most of my time on the phone or the walkie-talkie, keeping track of four drivers, good drinking deals, and ensuring all customers stay within their agreed credit limit.

Then it’s back to the hotel where I field countless questions about my face.

Luckily, it’s not that uncommon to see people sporting bruises but by late in the afternoon, I’m exhausted.

My business group has retired to a suite and ordered so much food that it’s almost eye-watering, so the kitchen sends me up to confirm their order before anything gets cooked.

I step into the elevator and smooth down my blouse as the doors close. Alone, the elevator shoots upward while I adjust my hair in the mirrored wall to ensure I look as presentable as possible.

I’m halfway through repinning a curl when the elevator halts gently and the doors slide open.

A man walks in with his head down. I sidestep carefully, lifting my head to give him a polite smile, but as our eyes meet, my heart freezes in my chest.

I know him.

I haven’t seen him in five years, but I know him and as my stomach plummets, recognition melts over his own face.

“Maeve?”

“Chip. H–Hi.”