I’d just returned home from my not-so-wonderful date and was surprised to find that the front door had been left wide open. I’d stepped inside and was about to call out to Mom when I found her sprawled out, face down on the floor in a pool of blood. I’d gasped and started to rush over to her but froze when she’d lifted her head and looked at me with fear in her eyes. Clearly struggling, she’d held up her hand and motioned to get in the closet as she mouthed the words “Go. Go... Please!”
I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing or what she was saying, so I’d just stood there, unable to move or breathe. I’d heard my sister scream followed by a peculiar muffled sound and then complete silence. I would’ve remained standing there if I hadn’t heard my mother’s labored whisper, “Parker, you have to go.”
Without taking my eyes off her, I’d slipped into the coat closet and closed the door. Peering through the louvered panels, I watched as my mother had lain her head back down on the floor, and I listened as her ragged breaths had grown weaker and weaker until the moment when her body couldn’t fight it anymore. She was gone. I’d wanted desperately to go to her but remained hidden away in the closet when a strange man had entered the living room. Dressed in black from head to toe had made it impossible to identify who he was as he stepped over to my mother and nudged her with his foot. She hadn’t moved. She was already gone.
Tears had streamed down my face as I’d continued to peek through the slats of the door. The man had glanced around the room, and when he was confident he was alone, he removed the black balaclava from his head. At the time, I had no idea who he was, but his face had been forever burned into my memory.
When the police had finally come, I was still hidden in the closet. It wasn’t until one of them found me that I was able to move. They’d taken me down to the station, questioned me, and informed me that my father had been murdered in his office. I was in shock, barely able to speak, but with the officer’s help, I’d been able to identify the man who’d killed my mother and sister.
His name was Lorenzo Rossi—a member of the Italian mafia. He’d killed the people I loved most in the world as revenge for my father losing his boss’s case.
I was completely alone when I’d decided to testify against Rossi. While I’d never regretted getting on that stand, my decision had come at a cost. As the key witness, I had to be placed into witness protection. With my family gone, I had nothing keeping me in California, so I didn’t argue after they’d informed me I’d be relocating to Colorado. I was given a new name, a new place to live, and a job waitressing at a local diner run by Peter and Sally Brant. I’d thought being there with them would give me a chance to start over and put the deaths of my loved ones behind me, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.
I’d been living in Colorado for just over a year when the man who’d murdered my mother and sister in cold blood presented new evidence to the courts and was granted an appeal. Knowing I was the one person who could keep Rossi behind bars, the mafia had come after me. When they inevitably found me, they’d killed everyone I’d grown to care about — including the Brants. It had left me stunned. Maybe if I’d known about the appeal, if I’d known they were coming for me, I might’ve been able to do something—I might’ve been able to keep them all from being murdered in cold blood.
I’d spent the last two years living in constant fear of Rossi finding me. My dreams were no longer mine. They’d been stolen by him, turned into unbearable nightmares. There were days when I thought they would completely consume me, but I didn’t give up. I couldn’t. If I did, Rossi would put me in a grave right next to my parents and sister. I couldn’t let that happen. I owed it to my family to make sure he spent the rest of his life behind bars, and that was exactly what I intended to do.
The next morning, I spent a little time piddling around my new apartment. It felt so strange being there among someone else’s belongings, but I was overwhelmingly grateful to have a real bed and an actual shower that was all my own. After I unpacked my things, I bathed and got ready for my first day at work. Menace hadn’t given me my uniform yet, so I decided to get there a little early and give myself enough time to get dressed before my shift. When I arrived, a couple of the girls who’d interviewed with me the day before were up on the stage practicing their routines. I stood and watched for a moment, then sighed with relief that it wasn’t me up there twirling around on that pole. Knowing it wouldn’t be long before my shift started, I walked over to the bar where Marlowe was working and said, “Hey.”