The restaurant’s door squeaks and swings open. I spin around on my heels and my feet stumble. Harper grabs my elbow and my hip to keep me from hitting the floor.
I want to mumble thanks, but not even those words come out when I stare at the man entering the diner.
What the hell is Moreno doing here?
I shrug out of the woman’s grasp.
“You should go,” I whisper. I’m not sure if I’m saying it to Harper or Moreno. The words fill the air, and she takes a step back and hurries toward where she was seated earlier.
“What the hell are you doing in here, Moreno?” Lincoln swiftly hands his little girl back to Harper and storms toward the door to confront him.
I’m speechless that they know each other, and they don’t appear on the best terms. I thought there were only two feuding mafia families in Breckenridge. Lincoln wasn’t part of the DeLuca family and didn’t appear to be on good terms with the Ricci’s either.
“Just coming for the food.”
“The hell you are!” Lincoln points toward the door. “You’re not welcome. I spent months having the place remodeled because of men like you,” Lincoln seethes.
Moreno gives a sideways smirk. “That might be, but it wasn’t my men who tore apart your business. Those bastards don’t work for my boss, and I don’t work for you. I’ve got orders, and I’m following them.”
His eyes stay on me, and Lincoln’s gaze quickly follows.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He throws his hands up into the air. “She’s one of yours?” His cheeks burn red.
“I’m not anyone’s,” I say, but it’s not like either of them hear me. I may as well be invisible.