One Night With The Wrong Brother novel · Chapter 14 of 24

Chapter 14: The Man in Queens

Mitchell's POV

I did not sleep.

I sat on the iron stairs at dawn with a cold coffee and Lana's taste still on my mouth.

She had put herself in that house to keep me out of a cell.

I could not let her do it for nothing.

If I wanted her free, I had to take the one weapon Constance held and make it mine.

That meant telling the truth about the garage, under my own name.

And before I told anyone else, I had to tell the one family I had never been able to look in the eye.

The valet's family lived in Queens, in a narrow brick house with a ramp built over the front steps.

I had driven past it four times in seven years.

I had never once stopped.

I parked across the street and sat with my hands on the wheel.

A man came out onto the porch and looked straight at my truck.

He was about sixty, thick through the shoulders, with a machinist's hands.

He knew me.

He walked down the ramp slowly, one palm on the rail, and stopped at my window.

"You," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"I have wanted to see your face for seven years." His voice was flat and tired. "Get out of the truck."

I got out.

He stood close enough that I could smell coffee and machine oil, and I waited for the punch.

It didn't come.

"My son is inside," he said. "He walks with a cane and he works nights at a parking lot because he can't stand long. You know what he asked me last month?"

"No."

"He asked if you ever sent a card."

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