“Three months.” I rubbed her back, trying to help her through the story. Hoping it would ease some of the burden she carried to tell it. “How did she get free?”
“She killed him.”
I said nothing. What could I say? Except Mia and I had more in common—or would have soon—than I’d ever guessed.
Both responsible for ending a life.
“He went out one day, and she managed to get out a window. Broke the glass. When he came back, she cut his throat.” Carly burrowed into me, though I doubted she even realized she was doing it. Her skin had gone from hot to goose bumps in moments. “She came back to us, and I was so happy. I was so stupid. I didn’t understand she wouldn’t be the same. That she couldn’t be. He’d broken her, and yeah, she’d put herself back together again…but the pieces didn’t fit the same way anymore.” She let out a shaky breath. “Then my daddy died. Seeing his little girl like that, knowing what had been done to her, and after he’d lost his wife… His heart just gave out.”
“Oh God,
tesoro
. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I wrapped my arms around her, trying to transfer as much of my body heat as possible. We’d been warm a few moments ago, but the cooldown happened quickly, especially this late in October. I kept the temperature in the apartment on low, because I was rarely home and never got cold anyway. I’d have to be more careful now, because—
Because nothing. She wasn’t mine, and she wouldn’t be around much longer.
Just like you’re not planning on being around much longer, right?
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” She pressed her face into the crook of my neck and curled around me that much tighter. “But I lost them all so close together. My mama, my sister, my daddy. All the years since, I’ve been waiting for more tragedy. And I guess I went looking for it.” She lifted her head and studied me with cool, clear eyes. “I told myself all I cared about was the money and the attention from men. I’d been so overprotected for so long. God, Mia didn’t let me out of her sight for years.”
“Understandably.”
“Yes. It was. But I felt overlooked, overshadowed…ignored. My only use was to be protected. I wanted to make a move for myself. Even if it was the wrong move.” She let out a pained laugh. “So fucking wrong. How did I end up shaking my tits for strangers, Gio?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
We’d both done things that to outsiders, probably made no sense. I was the last one who could judge. I hated that she danced, but I would never condemn her for it.
“You’re young,” I began.
“I’m not that young. And I’m not stupid, though I do a damn fine impression sometimes.” Without warning, she rolled off of me and tucked her breasts back in her new bra. “Let’s go to the store. Your kitchen is bare.”
Baffled, I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. “You want to go shopping at,” I checked the bedside clock, “three-fifteen in the morning?”
“Yeah. I do. I texted Ame and told her I was with Jenna, though Lord knows if she believes me. I don’t care. I’m here tonight, and that’s what matters.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me off the bed. “Do you cook? You have to cook. You’re Italian. It’d be a sin if you didn’t have recipes handed down from your mamma and Nonna—” She broke off, and looked down at our loosely linked hands. “Could I be any more insensitive? Probably not.”
“It’s fine. As you said, it’s been a long time.” I brought our joined hands to my mouth, and gave her fingertips a quick kiss. “Yes, I used to cook a bit. Nothing fancy. I’m not in culinary school,” I teased, hoping she couldn’t hear the hollowness in my voice.
The more I tried to pretend morning wasn’t coming, the louder the clock in my head became. We might have tomorrow, might have the day after. But there were no guarantees.
After living with none for so long, suddenly they were all I wanted.
“But you do have recipes?” She bent to gather her clothes, finally relinquishing her hold on my hand to get dressed. “Like, mmm, some kind of delicious homemade marinara, with spices and hand-rolled meatballs? Or maybe your family made your own pasta. Spinach fettucine is my favorite. When I have my own kitchen—” She stopped as she noticed my smile. “What?”
“The way you talk about food proves how much you love it.”
“Oh yeah. Well, yes, of course, I do. It’s my passion.” She ducked her head, laughing a little. “Plus I’m hungry. Starving actually. It’s like I got the munchies without needing a joint.” She coughed. “Umm, not that I know anything about that.”
“Of course not.” My smile grew as I grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and a new T-shirt from my dresser.
My gun was lying on top of the shirts, in plain sight. Clearly not where I’d left it.
Speculatively, I glanced back at Carly, and watched her tuck my dress shirt into the hem of her skirt. Apparently she wasn’t changing out of it.
I looked back at the gun, and tucked it away under some shirts. She’d seen it. That was why her mood had changed between when I’d gone in for my shower, and when I’d come out. Either she’d decided to overlook it or she was in some serious denial.
Glad to know I wasn’t alone.
Once we’d dressed, we walked out into the crisp fall evening like any other couple. Hand-in-hand, laughing at nothing. It was late, but the city was up all night, and there were still people in the 24 hour corner store down the block. She grabbed a noisy, rickety cart and pushed it down the narrow aisles, excitedly pointing out everything to me. Rice flour, almond paste, fresh button cap mushrooms. Her adoration of food and all its combinations was truly something to behold.
And her joy made me smile in a way I hadn’t in too long to remember.
“What do you feel like?” She held up a package of sausage and one of bacon. “For our breakfast.”
“Hmm.” I pretended to consider. “How about both?”
“A man after my own heart.” Carefully, she placed both in the cart, then stopped to peruse the eggs. She settled on a half dozen and set those in the cart with the makings for an omelet she’d already selected—colorful peppers, ham for cubing, onions and her button mushrooms. I’d be eating like a king, that was for sure.
A fitting last meal.
“Oh, and cookies! We need cookies.” She rushed up the baking aisle like a cook possessed. “Which do you like better? Oatmeal or chocolate chip? Maybe oatmeal chocolate chip, but we’ll use these peanut butter chocolate chips that—” She bit her lip around her grin. “Okay, so I’m hungry. I like food.”
“And you’re sexy as hell, so it’s working for you.” Playfully, I pinched her butt and she yelped and nearly dropped her package of chocolate chips. “Watching you is making me hungry too.”
“For cookies?”
I leaned closer and spoke near her ear. “For fucking you in the kitchen while you’re wearing nothing but heels, an apron and a smile.”
“Oh. Hmm. I like to always be super hygienic while preparing food, but I suppose I can make an exception this once. Not ‘til we eat, though. I really am starving.” She dumped the chips in her cart and happily wheeled it away, muttering something about needing coconut milk.
In no time, we were back in the kitchen in my apartment, and she was humming her way through meal prep. I’d never had a full course dinner before breakfast time. Tonight would be the first.
From where I was stationed at the granite counter, watching her work, I decided I’d had a few this evening already. First night in forever I’d ever wanted an evening not to end. First woman I’d watched cook since my mamma. First time since Emilia that I’d ever longed for…
Everything.
“Appetizer first.” She sliced mini bagels and sprinkled a fancy cheese mixture that she’d put together over them, plus some basil and a pinch of herbs. “These just need to broil for a couple minutes.” She opened the toaster oven just as I realized where she was going.
I jerked to my feet. “Carly—” Too late.
The pan clattered to the tile floor, mini bagels, cheese and herbs flying everywhere. I looked up just as she removed the gun I’d stashed in the toaster oven.
“We can’t pretend, can we?” She held the weapon away from her body, and turned to me with desolation in her big blue eyes. “Every time we try to be a normal couple, to just relax for a night, there’s going to be guns, and threats, and d—”
“No.” I wouldn’t let her say it. “Not between us. It can’t touch us.” I rounded the counter to her and held out my hand. “Give me the gun.”
“Why should I? You clearly have enough of them.” She dropped it on the counter. “How can you need so many guns?
Why
, Gio?”
Shame crowded through me, pushing away the pleasure I’d found with her tonight. And all the other nights we’d spent together. I wasn’t supposed to find happiness again, with her or anyone, but somehow it had happened anyway in the midst of all my focus on the past.
“You’re going to end up dead,” she whispered, and she might as well have been Nostradamus spitting out a damn prophecy. Because I sure as hell felt a ghost walking over my mamma’s grave. “You can’t spend time with men like that, men with no compunction about hurting people, and arm yourself to the teeth and not have it come back on you. The company you keep matters.”
“Carly…” I brushed her hair away from her face and she flinched, turning away.
It hurt. It fucking ripped something open inside me, a wound I’d thought long ago scarred over and buried and set it to freshly bleed all over again.
“I’m not going to your funeral. Do you understand me?” She pivoted to face me with red-rimmed eyes. “If you fucking die, I’m going to hate you for all eternity and I’ll dance on your goddamned grave.”
Cupping her cheeks in my hands, I tipped my forehead to hers. She was shaking again, with rage or fear or both, and it was all my fault. “That’s probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, baby.”
She let out a sniffly laugh and threw her arms around my neck. “I don’t want to lose you. Not when I’ve finally found—”
I covered her mouth with mine, because I knew how she was going to finish that sentence. I knew it because I could’ve finished it myself.
Not when I’ve finally found you.
A
t eight-thirty
-nine the next morning, I sneaked into my apartment wearing Gio’s shirt over my revealing club top and skirt and a smile. The smile only went two layers deep. Underneath, I was stressed and exhausted and worried as hell. But the top layer was my
just-got-thoroughly-fucked-three-times
smile¸ which served a dual purpose. If I encountered my sister and she seemed suspicious, I’d openly allow her to think I’d been out being debauched. She’d assume it was with Salad Hut boy, and I would let her because I was a horrible human being.
But my sister had left a note.
At the gym training with Fox for the fight.
The fight being the upcoming one in less than three weeks with Gio. The same weekend I was due to quit the club.
I wasn’t going to miss that fight, so I’d just have to find someone to cover for me. Like, oh, Nancy, who I’d covered for a few weeks back. If only she hadn’t just quit in a flurry of swear words. Even so, I would not be deterred.
Mrs. Knox wasn’t home either. She must be opening up the women’s department store she worked at now a few days a week. I had a feeling she’d be going full-time soon. She really seemed to enjoy the job. And good for her. She’d needed to be out from under Fox’s dad’s thumb for a long time now.
I stared longingly at the currently empty bed. Me, I could use some sleep, on an actual mattress, with no long, hard dicks to distract me from restful slumber.
Just a little while
, I promised myself, stripping down to my brand new, beloved underwear and slipping under the covers.
“Where did you get that fancy underwear?”
What felt like approximately six minutes later, I peeked one eye open to find my sister eyeballing me in a way that was more than a little disconcerting. Of course one of my boobs was half hanging out, but that was due to hasty readjustment at Gio’s that morning.
Gio
. Oh fuck. I rolled on my back and tugged the sheet up to my neck. I’d really rather if she didn’t see the assortment of hickeys all over my neck and my cleavage.
She might want me to be happily screwing the nice salad boy, but I wasn’t supposed to have quite
that
much fun doing it.
“Oh, this old thing?” I faked a yawn. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were training with Fox?”
“He’s working out with Emerson and Timmins. He doesn’t need me there. He says I criticize him too much.”
“I would never believe such blasphemy.”
She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. “So I get a little hyper. Emerson seems to do a better job with him than I do. He’s filling in for Slater in Fox’s corner,” she added.
Slater
. Exactly whom I intended to have a little pow-wow with today, after I got some studying in. Thanks to my constant state of exhaustion due to my insane schedule lately, I was getting behind on my studies. I had a quiz next week on French soups I needed to bone up on.
All the other kinds of boning I’d been doing lately was taking its toll.
“So you’ve just given up on Slater then.” I leaned up on my elbow. “Not like you, sis.”
“What else do you propose we do? He’s not returning our calls. And to be honest, after that knife incident, I’m really not thinking his judgment is in the best place right now. What can he possibly see in her?”
I tried not to make the parallels between Slater’s situation and mine. Really, they were so different, though falling for an ex-con or a current one was equally bad. I couldn’t see Gio as a criminal. I’d had other boyfriends, and none of them had come close to treating me the way he did. Sure, he kept secrets, and he didn’t always call, and there were all kinds of things between us that went unsaid. But when we were alone together, whether in bed or pushing a cart through the store, he was focused on me exclusively. As I was focused on him.
“Love does crazy things to the mind,” I said quietly, picking at my ragged cuticles. I’d need to fit in a manicure sometime soon.
Maybe after I headed to the doctor next week to make sure my finger was healing okay. I was still getting pain when I used it, and it still bled on occasion. I hoped I didn’t have to go back on antibiotics again, but as a budding chef, I used my hands too much to wait and see.
“You’re telling me.” Mia sighed. “I just never would’ve expected him to shut us out like this. He’s been friends with Fox for years.” She bowed her head, her dark braid falling forward over her shoulder. “I hate that they’re fighting because of my fucked up past.”
I scooted closer and wrapped my arm around her back. “They aren’t. They’re at odds because Slater’s choosing someone he barely knows over his best friends.” Hearing myself, I shut my eyes.
Pot, get acquainted with kettle
.
“Yeah, but he falls hard and fast. It’s not surprising she figured out how to get to him. He’s too sweet for his own good sometimes.”
Because her description of Slater struck a little too close to home, I flopped back on the bed and threw my arm over my face. All I wanted was to check out and sleep for a while, not think about all of this mess anymore.
Fat chance.
“We tried to talk to him yesterday, but he never answered the door,” she continued. “Tray wanted to read him the riot act over the knife business, but something seems off. I don’t know what.”
I lowered my arm. “Off like what? You don’t think Olivia did the knife thing?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t.” She rubbed her eyes. “All I know is he’s virtually guaranteed to get hurt, and I don’t want it to happen.”
“Yeah, well, he’ll learn. Maybe it’s his mistake to make, and he needs to be let alone.”
Not that I intended to do that later today, but Ame didn’t need to know that. I wanted to go to Slater’s alone, and if she knew my plans, she’d probably tag along.
“You think it’s that easy, huh? It’s hard to let someone you love do something that you know is going to wreck them.”
“You’re not in his head. You don’t know how it is between them, when they’re alone. You don’t understand.”
“You’d be surprised,” she said drily. “I know a little bit about falling for someone now.”
I didn’t say anything, because it wasn’t at all the same. Fox was basically a living Greek god. He was the hero in every fairytale.
Try falling for the supposed villain, sis, then we’ll talk.
“So what about you? You’ve been spending a lot of time with Jenna lately.” She cocked her head, peering at me closely enough that I knew she was checking out every tell. “You guys are pretty close now, huh?”
“Yep. Close as two bugs in a rug.”
Ugh, really?
I guess I was regressing to preschool now.
“That’s good. I’m glad she isn’t letting the Slater situation influence her friendship with you.”
“Why would she? They’re separate people. Just because you think something doesn’t dictate how I feel.”
“No, I know that. I’m just saying, sometimes it gets sticky, you know?”
“Nope, no sticky here.”
“Good.” She pursed her lips. “And how’s…what’s his name? The nice boy from the Salad Hut.”
Barely, I resisted rolling my eyes. Kirk wasn’t
that
nice, but he’d become the poster child for safe sexual conquests in my sister’s mind. “He’s fine.”
I tried not to let my annoyance show on my face. She just wanted what was best for me, and Gio wasn’t exactly what she’d consider a decent dating candidate for her baby sister. I got that, intellectually, and loved her for worrying.
But in my heart, I resented her for making me have to hide. And it wasn’t just her. The whole goddamn world was making it that way. He could hold my hand at the club, but only in the hopes of making the bastards he hung out with keep their distance from me. No one actually thought we were a real couple. Because we weren’t.
Maybe Slater and I had more in common than I’d originally thought.
“You’re being safe,” she said, toying with the edge of the sheet.
It took me a second to get her meaning. “Duh, of course.” This time I did roll my eyes. She knew I’d been on the pill forever, and I always used a condom too. Except that one night.
“Just checking.”
“I’m good. Everything’s good. Why don’t you go watch your studly boyfriend kick some ass if you have some time to kill?” I gave her a light shove. “Just don’t analyze his technique and you should be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.” She gave me a sheepish smile and rose. “I wanted to make sure you were home safe. You know, old habits die hard.”
Just like that, my irritation drained away. I might not always like her tactics, but my sister was always in my corner. She was the one person whose loyalty I never had to doubt.
“I know.” Surprising us both, I leaned up and wrapped my arm around her knees and buried my face in her side. For just a second, I needed someone to hold on to. “I love you too.”
“What’s all this?” She rubbed my head. “Hey, kiddo, you okay?”
Her patient, kind tone was too much. If she’d gotten suspicious, or thrown any snark at all at me, my natural defensiveness when it came to anything Gio-related would’ve saved the day. I didn’t have a strategy to fend off genuine concern.
“I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed,” I whispered over the lump in my throat that seemed to get bigger with each passing hour.
How many things could I overlook when it came to Gio? First the company he kept, then the back room situation we’d both been forced into—and yet he still hadn’t turned his back on those men once we’d made it out the other side. Then the attempted murder charge, and his claim he’d been guilty. A cocky claim, no less, as if he was proud. The secrecy, and the guns.
The negative things were stacking up faster than the positive ones could compete.
But God, the positive were so amazing. I’d never felt like this before. Not even in the same ballpark. Being with him made me lighter, freer. With him, I wasn’t a little girl trying on an adult’s clothes. I was a woman. A happy one.
At least when I wasn’t scared out of my mind he was going to end up hurt—or worse.
“It’s a lot,” Mia soothed, stroking my hair. “Work, and school, and now thinking about starting your own business. If they take my new offer. I didn’t come up a lot. The property needs a lot of work, comparatively speaking, and the area’s rebuilding.”
“But you really want it.”
“I really want it. For me, and us, and everyone we could help. And everyone who would love your yummy cooking, who doesn’t have to worry about making weight.” She made a face and pinched a nonexistent roll on her waist.
I had to laugh. My sister was the fittest person I knew, other than Fox and Gio. The three of them were sweat monkeys in the extreme.
Me, I hadn’t worked out in weeks. I didn’t have time right now and hell, Gio seemed to like my curves, so why bother?
“It’ll all be fine.” Gently, she disengaged my arms. “I have all the faith in the world in you, Carly Ann.”
Her words echoed even after she’d gone back to watch Fox train. I was glad someone did, because I didn’t have much faith in myself at the moment.
I slept for a couple of hours, then dragged myself up to study. I was still exhausted and felt vaguely off, so I skipped breakfast. Not that I needed to eat after that feast we’d prepared last night, amidst talk of guns and graves and death.
Our new normal.
That afternoon, I headed over to Slater’s. I took the subway as I always did, but I watched everyone who got too close. Men with long dark coats got extra stares, since they were probably hiding guns. When I wasn’t paying attention, the world had become a dangerous, frightening place.
I got off at Slater’s stop and hurried up the steps to the sidewalk, checking over my shoulder every few feet. Maybe I’d never go back to the way I’d been. Oblivious to how quickly life could change.
In an instant. Less.
Clutching the purse I wore cross-body to my hip, I stopped in the lobby of Slater’s building and waited for someone to let me in. It didn’t take long. A tremulous smile at a harried businessman and I was inside, on my way up to Slater’s. Wondering with every step if I was making a colossal mistake.
I rubbed my clammy palms on the thighs of my jeans and knocked, deliberately staying out of view of the peephole. If curiosity didn’t win out, I wasn’t getting in there, because I seriously doubted he’d let me in voluntarily. Since I was from the enemy’s camp and all.
The door swung open and I gasped. Gio thought I did that too often, but this time it was deserved.
“Slater,” I whispered, gripping the doorframe.
The man standing in front of me wasn’t the sweet, lovable boy I’d known. Gone was the clean-shaven jaw, replaced by a thick scruff of light brown hair. His normally shaggy blond hair was wild and unkempt and was longer than I’d ever seen it. The rings under his eyes made him seem ten years older, at least.
He stared at me for a long moment, something like wistfulness passing through his sea-green eyes, before he made a sound of disgust and tried to shut the door in my face.
“No. Dammit,
no
.” I stuck my foot in the crack and pushed my hip against the door. “Don’t do this. I know what you’re going through. I get it, I swear.”
“You don’t get anything. Neither does your sister. Let go of the door, Carly.”
“Make me,” I challenged, thrusting myself into the scant opening I’d made. “Unless you plan on carrying me out of here bodily, I’m not going anywhere.”
He put up a token effort to dislodge me from the door then lifted his hands, palms out, and backed into the apartment. I knew he would never hurt me. The guy didn’t even swat flies. “Fine. You want to come in, come in. But don’t bother telling me—”
I walked inside and shut the door, sagging against it when my knees threatened to give way. Clean, neatnik Slater was living in a place that looked like it was a set for the TV show
Hoarders
. His beloved surfboards weren’t stacked neatly against the wall as they’d been the last time I’d visited a few months ago, but shoved haphazardly into a corner. Takeout boxes were everywhere, interspersed with empty beer bottles and old newspapers.