Page 35 of Sins of Innocence

Yes, I literally squeaked. What is it about this man?

"Yes."

"But New York housing prices are ridiculous." Troy had ours mortgaged to the hilt and the payments were too big to keep it after his death.

My minivan suffered a similar fate, only it was leased and when the lease came up for renewal, I couldn't justify keeping it either. I bought a used hybrid compact that mom and I share since she picks the girls up from school most days.

Thankfully, the apartment in Queens we all moved into after Troy's death came with a parking spot.

Kenneth tried to get us to move to Long Island, but I told him flat out that I wasn't moving my girls so soon again. When he brought it up again a year later, I told him he would have to double my salary to make the rent possible.

That did not happen.

Kieran signals a turn. "I can afford it."

"Being a mobster pays that well?" Only if it did, why had Troy sold information on top of his earnings from the mob?

"I inherited money from my stepfather."

I don't know why, but I'm absolutely sure that the money had nothing to do with why Kieran killed the man.

"From the way he treated you, I'm surprised he left money to you."

"No will," Kieran says and then adds, "But on paper, I'm his son."

Kieran's trying to communicate more fully. I'll give him that.

"And he left enough money to buy a house in the City?" I ask when he doesn't say anything else.

"His estate was worth three-point-four million."

Woah! Okay, then. "Was he in the mob too?"

Lleshi is a Balkan name, but there's organized crime in Eastern Europe too.

"He was a member of the Albanian Boys."

Albanian then. "Crime pays well."

Which makes Troy's choices all the harder to understand.

"It does."

"I guess you'd know."

"My net worth is ten times that of my stepfather."

"What?" I practically screech. "Troy wouldn't have sold secrets if he'd been making that kind of money."

I don't think. For Troy, nothing was ever enough.

He wanted bespoke suits, not tailored ones from top designers. He wanted a Phillip Patek watch, not a Rolex and to drive a Lamborghini not a Porche. He said so often enough.

Not that either car option made sense for a family man.

"I worked freelance before I joined the mob."

"What do you mean freelance?" I gasp as understanding comes. "You were a hitman?"