Conheartists

by Webster, K

  “Put it on speaker,” I hiss, my anxiety ratcheting up.

  She nods and mashes the button.

  “Gordon speaking,” an old man grumbles. “Who’s this?”

  “I’m Francis, uh Simmons, from the Global Tribune. Ever heard of it?”

  “Can’t say that I have, young lady.”

  “Fantastic newspaper. We highlight all sorts of stories from outlaws to aliens to celebrities to mobsters who threaten their neighbors. Any of those you might be interested in?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Gordon says, “I have the worst neighbor and he is the mafia, I tell ya. As in head guy in charge.”

  “Wow, crappy luck there, sir. What does that mean for you? Do you have to smell the dead bodies? Are there fingers and hacked off body parts littering your driveway?”

  He snorts and I cringe at the visual. “The mafia is a lie. At least the way they tell it on The Godfather. Or maybe Vinnie is just soft in his old age. He runs his head a lot, but I don’t actually see any of the funny business.”

  This could be good for Lindsay if that’s true.

  “All bark and no bite?” Frannie asks.

  Chandler barks and she pats his head.

  “I know he gets up to no good, but his home is his sanctuary. Problem is, he torments me to entertain himself.”

  “But it sounds like you can handle yourself,” she says.

  “Damn right, little lady. I told Vinnie that more times than he can count. He may do his business in LA, but when he’s out in Rancho Cucamonga, he’s just another crotchety old man like me.”

  “With goats.”

  “Damn goats.”

  “Like Juniper…”

  “How do you know about Juniper?”

  “I know everything. I know how you tried to poison her.”

  “I beg your pardon—”

  “Cut the crap, Gordon,” she says hotly. “I know you tried to kill that sweet goat. Is it Juniper’s fault you hate Vinnie, hmm?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Did you want Billy to lose his forever mate?”

  “Errr, no, ma’am. Who are you again—”

  “Billy has PTSD now, Gordon. You did this to him. You.”

  “Ma’am, I don’t know—”

  “I don’t need your excuses,” she hisses. “I need your stealth.”

  “Stealth?”

  “You got on his property once before on a mission to do your dirty deeds, am I right?”

  “Plenty of times, but—”

  “No buts, Gordon. This is a time for action. A time for making things right with God and the goats.”

  “Am I to kill him?” Gordon asks hopefully.

  “No. Something more important.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re going to steal Billy.”

  He gasps. “Billy is his favorite.”

  “You catch on quick, fella.” She smiles at me, sweet and innocent despite doing whatever the fuck she’s doing. “Don’t you dare hurt Billy. You’re just keeping him safe for me. I want pictures. Make it look bad. Get creative, Gordon, but don’t hurt him.”

  Gordon grunts. “I’m grabbing my shoes. But why am I doing this? This is for your newspaper?”

  “You’re not the only life Vinnie is trying to ruin,” she tells him. “He’s upsetting my boyfriend and I don’t take kindly to that. We’re going to give him a taste of his own medicine. Capiche?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Someone’s following us,” I grumble, waking Frannie from her nap.

  She sits up and looks over her shoulder. “Too far back to tell. Go faster.”

  Not in the Mystery Machine.

  But we haven’t hit a town in some time.

  “I’m going to get us a faster car,” she tells me, her fingers once again flying over the phone screen. “Oh! In twelve miles to be exact.”

  “What’s in twelve miles?”

  “Aspen Mountain Lodge.”

  “And?”

  “They have valet. Pretty hoppin’ little place. Rich folks.”

  “I like your line of thinking.”

  While I drive the twelve miles with my attention divided between the road in front of me and the car behind me, Frannie puts on makeup. She disappears into the back of the van and I catch a glimpse of a tit as she changes. In a perfect world, my girl and I could roleplay all the dirty shit in her books. We’d be happy. Together. I’d spend days in bed with her just appreciating all the things about her. But we’re not in a perfect world. We’re here and under Mr. Death’s thumb. It’s such bullshit.

  “When we get there, we’ll drive through the valet lot and pick out the one we want. Then, drive me to the back. I’ll get us the car. Don’t worry.” She climbs back up front wearing a slinky white dress that’s low-cut and shows every curve.

  “No,” I growl.

  “What do you mean no?”

  “You can’t wear that.”

  “Why the heck not?” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest, making her tits nearly spill out.

  “That’s why.”

  “What?”

  “You look too…”

  “I look bad?” Her lip juts out and brows furrow.

  “What?” I bite out. “Fuck no. You look too good. They’re going to see your fucking tits and I don’t want them to.”

  “Theo saw my tits. So did Cher.”

  I growl, as does Chandler. At least someone is on my side. “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “They were our friends.”

  She musses up her hair and fuck if she doesn’t look like a starlet. “It’s a part of the con, Luca. I don’t go home with anyone but you. It’s super cute you’re jealous, though.” She grins at me. “Totally an alpha thing to do like in my book.”

  I growl again.

  “They totally do that in the book too,” she tells me happily.

  “If they touch you, I’ll kill them,” I warn.

  She giggles. “Ooh, how? Do tell.”

  “You’re a psychopath.”

  “Says the man who just threatened murder.”

  “I’ll sic my dog on them.”

  Chandler yaps in agreement.

  “Oooh, I bet they’re shakin’ in their boots,” she snarks. “What else?”

  “You’ve been corrupted,” I grumble as I take the exit. “I’ve created a monster.”

  “Again, you’re the one threating murder. I just want to visualize it.”

  “Freak.”

  She taunts me the entire way to the lodge. When we arrive, it’s definitely a rich prick place. I drive around back until I find the valet lot. It’s fenced in, but we quickly find which car will do.

  “I’m on it,” she vows. “Let me in the side. I’ll meet you at the back of the parking lot.”

  “If anyone catches on—”

  “I’ve got this,” she promises. “Trust me. I haven’t let you down yet.”

  No.

  She’s been this insane force in my life making it better, completing me in the best possible way. As soon as I get my family back—and I will—I’m taking this woman as mine. She’ll be forever my captive. Forever mine.

  This has to work.

  “I trust you.” Before she exits the van, I gently clutch her neck, bringing her close to me so I can kiss her pouty lips. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Her eyes are soft when I pull away from our chaste kiss. “That’s the sweetest and most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. Better than anything I’ve ever read in a book or seen in any movie.”

  I brush my thumb along her jaw. “I have a lot more romantic shit to say, woman. After. After all this. There will be an ever after and it will be fucking happily too.”

  She grins at me and then she’s gone. Chandler and I pull around to the front lot as soon as she’s inside. My heart is in my throat. All it takes is someone to realize what she’s up to and then the cops will get involved. We
can’t have that. We need this to work.

  Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty. Fuck, I’m worried.

  “She can do this,” I assure Chandler.

  He yaps like he knows that to be true.

  “I’m keeping her,” I tell him. “You too.”

  The dog licks me in the face.

  “I don’t deserve her,” I mutter.

  Chandler growls.

  “What?” I huff. “It’s true. I’m a lowlife thug but somehow…”

  He growls again and then yaps.

  “You think I deserve a girl like her?”

  His yapping is happy and his tail wags.

  If Chandler believes it, maybe it’s true.

  A car honks at me and I start to move out of its way when I realize it’s not just any car. Not just any driver. Holy shit. She did it.

  Quickly, I drag out our bags from the van and load them into the lime green 2019 Aston Martin Vantage. Fuck, this is a beautiful car.

  “You went for gold, babe,” I say with a whistle when I settle into the driver’s seat and she’s tucked into the passenger side.

  “It looks super fast!”

  The moment we’re back on the highway, I realize just how fast this bad boy can go. I easily crank it up over 150 and it doesn’t act like it’s even trying.

  “Racecar driving can be checked off my bucket list,” she squeals.

  “You and me both.”

  We seem so far away from LA, but in this car, we fly. Whoever was following us must be lost because it’s been nothing but us and the open interstate.

  The phone pings and Frannie gasps.

  “Oh my goodness!” she cries out. “Poor Billy.”

  I ease off the gas and glance at the screen. Billy is standing in the middle of a kitchen, covered in blood, staring pensively at the camera. Behind him is a bottle of ketchup on the counter.

  “Gordon came through,” I grumble. “What now?”

  “I’m going to crop the ketchup out and then I’m going to send this to Mr. Death.” She works her fingers on the phone. “I just texted Death. Told him that he has to give us another twelve hours. Or else.”

  Shit.

  “What do you think—”

  “Ugh. He’s insufferable. He thinks it’s you pretending to be me.” She starts to record a video. “I have your goat, Death. I have people everywhere. People who work for me. I’m the bad guy around here. Now show me the girls, unharmed, and I might let Billy live.”

  She looks over at me and smiles. Beautiful, wicked Frannie.

  “You sent it?”

  “Yep,” she says. “Now we wait.”

  Ping.

  She snorts. “He sent me crying emojis. Doesn’t feel good to be out-badded! Ha!”

  “You’re evil. You think the girls are safe?”

  “He sent a picture and said he’ll grant us the extra time. Lindsay looks furious, but Cala is feeding Juniper. We can slow down.”

  Relief floods through me. If I weren’t flying down the highway, I’d kiss her.

  “Thank you, Frannie. Just…thank you.”

  She squeezes my thigh. “Teamwork, remember?”

  It’s well after midnight when we arrive in Las Vegas. But this city never sleeps. Unfortunately, for us, we need some. And luckily, we have the extra time thanks to Frannie. She and Chandler are awestruck as we drive down the strip looking for a hotel. When we see an Elvis wedding chapel, she shrieks.

  “Luca! Stop the car! Oh my lanta!”

  I chuckle as I slow and whip into the empty parking lot. “Big Elvis fan?” No surprise there.

  “My momma and daddy got married by Elvis.” Her eyes sheen with emotion. “Another bucket list thing.”

  Ahhh, fuck.

  How can I ignore that?

  “We only live once, right?” I ask as I park the car.

  “You’re not suggesting…oh my word! Luca!”

  Chandler yaps happily.

  “I mean, I know we barely know each other, we’re on a Mr. Death deadline, and our lives are in danger but—”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you! If I’m going to end up buried in Mr. Death’s backyard, at least I can do it knowing I married a hunky outlaw turned hero.”

  My chest tightens. “Hero, huh?”

  “Hero with villain tendencies, but that’s what makes you so dangerously wonderful.”

  “Dangerously wonderful. Bingo, she likes me.”

  The dog yaps happily.

  Holy shit, I’m going to get married. Lindsay is going to beat my ass for a multitude of reasons when I finally get her, but this is the one that’ll get me whipped the hardest. It’s reckless and careless and something Mom would have done. But, I can’t find it in me to care.

  “Now you have to buy me a ring,” she sasses as she scribbles another IOU in her book. “This temporary one is okay, but I always wanted one that won’t eventually turn my finger green.”

  The ones for sale at the chapel were of shitty quality, but that’s all we had to work with. My con woman distracted the man and I hooked her up with the prettiest one they had. We peeled out of there before they even knew they’d been scammed. Sure, we could have used the money Paul gave us that he had stashed in his SUV, but he told us to use it wisely. Buying a cheap wedding ring after a wedding with Elvis himself seemed unwise.

  “Where are we going now?” she asks absently.

  I see it, though.

  Like a beacon calling for us.

  “To our hotel,” I mutter. “The LINQ.”

  “Mmm, sounds nice.”

  Chandler starts yapping with excitement. He knows. We’re taking care of our girl. As soon as she realizes where we’re heading, she starts to cry.

  Shit.

  I didn’t mean to make her cry.

  “You’re the best husband in the world,” she sobs.

  Thank fuck.

  I pull into the parking lot of the High Roller—a huge version of a Ferris wheel but Vegas style. It’s like the Mack Daddy of Ferris wheels.

  “In another life, I’d give you a fucking fantastic honeymoon. But we’re on a time crunch, babe. I hope this will do,” I tell her as we pull into a parking spot.

  She practically crawls over the console to kiss me. Then, all too soon, she’s out of the car, a woman on a mission.

  “Shh,” she hisses to Chandler, who she’s smuggling onto the ride inside her purse.

  He growls but stops trying to escape. We grab tickets, wait in line, and soon we’re being loaded into a pod with a bunch of other people. It’s not quite the private, carnival feel, but based on the bright smile on Frannie’s face, I’d say she doesn’t care.

  We’re followed by several men in black suits, all of which are wearing angry scowls.

  “Wow, grumpy patrol three o’clock,” she whispers to me.

  Something about the way they eye up my wife in her sexy white dress she put back on for our Elvis wedding has my hackles rising. Chandler growls from her purse.

  “Come on,” I mutter. “Let’s go over here.”

  The rest of the ride, we enjoy our time looking over the big, bright city. It’s late and we’re both tired, but we’re flying high on adrenaline. The sketchy men with wandering eyes have disappeared into the crowd inside the pod, leaving us to focus on our time together. All too soon, the ride is over and we’re headed back to the car.

  “We can get a room here,” I say as I open the car door and help her inside. I trot over to my side and climb in. “What do you think—”

  The passenger side window shatters, showering glass all over Frannie.

  WHAT THE FUCK!

  I fire up the engine and peel out. The back window shatters too. Frannie screams and I frantically look her over to make sure she’s not shot.

  “Are you okay?” I demand.

  “I’m fine,” she says tearfully. “They shot at us!”

  I whip out into traffic and a black SUV soon follows. The traffic is a fucking nightmare, even after midnight. I weave in and o
ut of cars, doing my best to lose the fuckers.

  “You think this is Death?”

  “I think it’s the same fucking guys as before.”

  While I drive, I try to connect how Death found me in the first fucking place. I’d gotten caught by Arlo Rossi’s men. Then, the cops got involved. Rossi’s men came back for me, but then they’d been executed by the cop before he died. Mr. Death found me after that. Sent me on his mission. I’d assumed all bad guys were one and the same. But what if…what if they’re rivals?

  “Rossi and Death are on opposing teams,” I tell Frannie, thinking out loud. “And if Rossi was trying to kill you, that means Death doesn’t want you killed. He just wants you. Why, though?”

  “Maybe Rossi’s men were the ones Momma was trying to hide me from.”

  “You’re certain she was hiding you?”

  “Who else willingly lives in Teterboro when they could live anywhere else? She was always so protective. Fearful even. It has to be because of them.”

  I turn down a dark road and zip along, trying to avoid some of the traffic. The SUV catches up and barrels after us. I turn onto the next street that is less busy. Once on the stretch, I gun it. The SUV can’t keep up, thank fuck. I’m thinking we’re in the clear when a car flies out onto the road and hauls ass toward us. More of Rossi’s men?

  I slow, wanting to avoid a head-on collision, but that allows the SUV to catch up. They slam into the bumper and Frannie shrieks in surprise. I see a gunman hanging out of the window, his weapon pointed at us.

  Pop!

  He shoots the tire and we lose control.

  No!

  “Hold on!” I cry out, flinging my arm over Frannie, who holds Chandler to her chest.

  And then we’re rolling.

  Crunch.

  Smash.

  Shatter.

  Pain explodes inside my head as we roll to a stop upside down. I groan, desperate to check on Frannie and our dog, but everything turns black.

  Black. Black. Black.

  I came all this way to die and let everyone I care about down.

  Black.

  Francis

  If My Momma Were Here, She’d Spank You!

  “This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine…”

  Momma’s hands brush against my forehead, cool to my heated skin. “I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine…” I’m comforted by her touch, falling deeper in my soft blankets. “Hey, there you are. Wake up, Francis.” Her voice is softer. Different than what I remember. I want to open my eyes to her beautiful face. Her deep-set hazel eyes that match mine. But I don’t want this moment to end. Singing my favorite lullaby. “Come on, you can do it.”