Page 28 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“What Dante doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

“Jesus.” Calisto blew out a slow breath. “Wasn’t three years in Chicago enough for you to learn not to push that man?”

Cross smirked. “Not really.”

“Then maybe your shoulder or broken face was, Cross. I mean, you never confirmed to me that it was them, but …”

At the mention of the injury on his shoulder that had long ago healed on the outside, he felt a throbbing ache inside.

Cross refused to think about it.

“A man is only as good as his word,” he told his father, “and I gave Andino mine. Nonetheless, you needed to know what was going on, so I let you know. I would be grateful if you didn’t mention it outside of us, as no, it would not be good for Dante to learn I was running his guns before I can even do the drop.”

“Fine, but fucking hell, try not to get killed in the process.”

“Sure.”

Cross stood, done with the conversation and the meeting.

“You’re not staying?” Calisto asked. “Not even for dinner?”

His walk hesitated at the door, and his shoulders tensed. “No.”

“Cross, stay and talk a bit more.”

“You know why I need time to myself right now, Cal,” he murmured.

“I do, but if you just let me explain some of the things that happened back then, you might understand. Your mother and I, we love you, Cross. Please let me—”

“I need time,” he repeated.

With that, Cross left the office.

His mother lingered at the kitchen entryway as he came down the hallway. Her green eyes stayed locked on the floor, and he hated the thought that he was causing her some kind of pain. No matter what, he adored his mother. He loved her to death.

Shitty choices be damned.

Cross stopped long enough to wrap an arm around his mother’s shoulders, and kiss her on the top of her head. “Love you, Ma.”

Emma patted his cheek gently. “I know, my boy.”

“Not a boy, huh?”

“Always mine,” she countered. “Always our wild child, even as a grown man.”

“Sure, Ma.”

“Don’t stay away for two weeks again.”

Cross let out a harsh breath, but didn’t deny her request. He would come back sooner. For his mother, anyway. He just wished he could shake that feeling of betrayal that lingered while he was there.

It was the fucking worst.

Cross locked the door of his Manhattan penthouse, and soaked in the silence and calm of the place. Despite living in Chicago for three years, he had greatly missed New York, and his place. For many reasons. Most, he didn’t like to think about too often.

Those reasons had to do with Catherine.

He shrugged his suit jacket off as he headed toward the back hallway to the master bedroom. Dropping the item onto the bed, he kicked off his shoes, and undid his pants. He emptied the pockets, setting a roll of cash, his wallet, and a cell phone on the nightstand.