“This isn’t gossip.”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t true,” Haz yelled, throwing his arms wide. “Look at me! There’s no way I’m the son of some iconic mob boss. I can barely walk straight.”
“Superman’s son had asthma.”
I glanced at Ghost as though he’d lost his mind. “What the fuck?”
“Just saying,” Ghost mumbled.
“Say less,” I demanded and turned back to Haz, whose steady gaze was startling. “Haz?”
“How did you get all this?” He wanted to know.
“We found it last night.”
Haz glanced at Ghost. “You went with him?”
Ghost nodded.
Haz turned back to me. “Where did you go?”
“Grimaldi’s place.”
“Why?”
I blinked. “I told you. Because I was trying to protect you.”
“But how did you know he was who was trying to kill me? You didn’t get any of this”—he gestured to all the papers—“until you found it at his place.”
“I had my suspicions.” I hedged.
“Why?” he pressed.
I said nothing.
“How did you know it was Grimaldi that wanted me dead, Kieran?”
Fuck.
“Because he hired me to kill you.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Haz
One minute, I’m alone in the world, my only problem making enough money to pay my bills.
And the next?
The next, I’m the son of a notorious crime boss, heir to his kingdom, and dating a hitman who was hired to kill me.
Sometimes late at night when I was tired or extra lonely, I’d wonder where my real parents were and what it would be like if they’d wanted me.
Then I met Kieran who said he wanted me, and I thought I’d finally found my place.
“Grimaldi hired you to kill me?” I repeated, my voice hollow.
