Tough Enough (Tough Love Book 3)

by Trixie More

  “We’re having beans and rice.”

  He absently took his left hand and slid it around her thigh. Every nerve ending in her body sang.

  “That’s fine,” Ben said. “That’ll be my appetizer.”

  “I’m going to paint our room tangerine,” she said. She had the most fantastic magenta picture frames picked out for the wall where she would hang all the pictures of their memories to come.

  He squeezed her leg and turned his head just enough to kiss her knee. “I love bright colors.”

  Marley laughed at the outright lie. “You’re going to learn to.”

  Karito pushed past them to spin in a circle while she muttered a made up song to her stuffed pig. “The bed will be here, the curtains will be here, the dresser is so big it can fit all the clothes and the toys.” She stopped and her large blue eyes found her father’s.

  “Daddy, will everything fit in here with the fluffy rug?”

  Ben crawled across the floor causing Derrick to huff with disgust as the pile of screws spilled across the wood floor.

  He rose up on his knees so he was taller than his daughter. He put his large hands under her armpits and lifted her as he stood.

  “You, need to go out to the living room and play there.” He spun her around and tucked her under his arm. She held her arms out like an airplane, her legs stiff, feet kicking, her pig forgotten on the floor. “Daaaah deeee,” she squealed. “The rug!”

  “The rug will fit, if I have to sew it myself.”

  “Don’t drop me!”

  Marley stepped back and let them pass by.

  She swore to God, she was going to make him the happiest man on the planet, starting tonight.

  Sophia shut down her computer and locked her laptop in her desk drawer. She wasn’t as interested in taking it home these days.

  The trial of Marco Camisa, Jr for the murder of Colton Gerrimon wouldn’t be starting for a few months. There was plenty of work to do to get the case ready for trial. Sophia wouldn’t be taking part in that; she was a witness.

  George Connelly’s murder would never go to trial. George had been killed by Jacob Park in Marco’s driveway, and Doug had killed Jacob. There was more to do, but with Samuel in custody, she had a good feeling it was a matter of time before they brought down the entire family.

  Outside the building where Sophia worked, the daylight was lasting a little longer now. The holidays had passed, and the city was sunk in the grip of January. She’d started emailing and texting with Doug, keeping things light. She found she couldn’t stand not knowing where he was on the planet and if he was okay. She headed out through the lobby where Doug had come through the metal detector all those months ago. She still blamed everything on his smile.

  Snow was spitting sideways in a cold wind and it caught her by surprise when she emerged from the building into the twilight. She could see Roger Brower waiting for her across the street, sitting at the bar along the coffee shop window. Sophia waved to him as she headed to the corner to cross.

  Inside, he got off his stool and gave her a hug, taking her new pale gray coat from her while she headed to get a coffee. She returned and took the seat next to his.

  “So, how did it go?” she asked.

  “Well, he didn’t thank me, and he didn’t hit me,” Roger said.

  “So, what does that mean?” Sophia asked.

  “I went to see Ed Walker like you asked. As we agreed, I told him that you’d sent me. That you were aware that there might be a matter he wanted to press charges on but didn’t feel able to speak about. I assured him I had no idea what the details were, but that I would be happy to assist him if there was something he wanted to bring forward.”

  “And?”

  “Sophia, he didn’t seem like a man unable to speak about something. He seemed calm, intelligent, and, frankly, not anxious to discuss the matter further with me. Whatever it is, I think you’ve done all you can for him.” Roger sipped his coffee, looking over the cup at her. “You know the curiosity is killing me, right?”

  She smiled at him. He was the best prosecutor she knew; honest and forthright. “Okay,” she said. “I guess that’s all I can do.”

  “And you can’t bring these charges for him?”

  She shook her head. “Conflict of interest. Plus, he has to want to pursue them.”

  “So why send me over there?” Roger asked.

  “Because I know what it’s like to be unable to speak about something. I know what it’s like to need someone to speak for you. That’s what we do, as prosecutors, we speak for those who are voiceless. We fight for people who’ve been wronged. Just because I’m not the person to do that for Ed Walker doesn’t mean he should go without.”

  Roger grimaced. “So I’m never going to know what this is about?”

  She smiled. “Not unless Ed Walker wants you to know.” She stood up. “Thanks, Roger.”

  “Anytime, Sophia,” he said. He rose and held her coat for her. “Any chance you want some company for dinner?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks anyway.”

  The buildings, woods, and homes sped by outside the windows of the train to Pelham. The ride felt long and lonesome, although it was the same as ever. The problem was, she’d changed. She flicked through a news thread on her phone. Somewhere in a place called Wuhan, people were falling ill.

  Somewhere in Florida, Doug was moving on with his life, but here in New York, Sophia felt stuck. After she’d watched the video, she’d cried for what felt like days. He’d been stoic, standing there, offering his money, his apology, and finally his freedom. There was literally nothing more he could do unless he went into a police station and confessed. He’d taken the choice out of her hands. She knew darn well Doug had confessed so that she wouldn’t have to betray him. As she’d told him about the man at the fair, he’d already taken that burden from her. And yet, and yet, she still hadn’t felt right. What if Ed Walker wanted to press charges but couldn’t find the strength to do it? What if he felt frozen and speechless?

  Honestly, when she was around Dorothy and Ed, neither one seemed like a victim to Sophia, but you never knew. So she’d sent Roger over to do what she couldn’t, to offer Ed a way to have a voice. Now, there was nothing more she could do either.

  The train stopped, and Sophia got off, walking across the street and getting into the waiting car.

  “How was your day?” Tess asked.

  “Same,” said Sophia.

  Tess turned off the car.

  “What’s going on?” Sophia asked.

  “When is the last time you felt happy?” Tess unbuckled her seat belt and settled sideways a bit. In the street light, her gray hair looked silver.

  “Tess, I’m tired, can’t we talk about this on the way?”

  “You miss him,” Tess said.

  Sophia turned her face to the passenger window. She could feel the cold seeping through. “Tess, let’s go.”

  Reluctantly, Tess started the car.

  That night in her bed, Sophia stared at the ceiling. She rolled to her belly and still couldn’t get comfortable.

  This is the last time, she thought. Just this once more, and then I’ll stop.

  Sophia knelt on the bed, facing the headboard, her fingers on the stiff fabric. She closed her eyes and put her palm to her own face. “I love you,” Sophia whispered. The man she was speaking to wasn’t there.

  She was a fool. Disgusted with her own frailty, she got out of bed and turned on the lights. He’d been in this room. He’d recovered here. They’d spent their last night here, but he wasn’t here anymore, and he wasn’t coming back.

  She went to the little desk and took out a pad of paper and started writing.

  Pros: She would be with Doug, she would not have to work for peanuts working for the city. She could start her own firm and make money, which she liked. She would never be cold again, she wouldn’t have to watch Derrick and Ben have baby after baby while she pretended to like being an aunt. She could g
et a dog. She would be with Doug. She could laugh with Doug, sleep with Doug, cling to him in the night, and boink like a bunny if she wanted to. She could feel something again.

  Cons: She could get down there, and he could wind up back here in prison doing a stint between two and seven. She wouldn’t be a Manhattan prosecutor. She would be far from her grandparents. She wouldn’t get to see Derrick have babies and find out if she liked being an aunt.

  She looked at the pro’s again and added I could be a Miami prosecutor. She was pretty sure they had crime down there. She studied her list and added one more: I might decide to have a child. She read that sentence again, tentatively. She crossed out the period and added a comma and the word, maybe. She looked at the sentence for a minute, and then she added another. I might decide I like anal. Nope. She crossed that out.

  I might decide I’m alive.

  Well, that did it. She sniffled and dug around in the kangaroo pocket of her nightgown until she pulled out a tissue.

  Seven years. The worst that could happen if she went to Florida and set up shop there and went about winning Doug back was seven years of waiting for him to return. Wasn’t that what she was already doing? Only up here in New York, she might wait for the rest of her life.

  The Border Jumper turned out to be a good place to begin again. He had no idea how to sail it anywhere, but Alice had given him a dog named Lotto and the keys, and the rocking of the waves reminded him of Sophia.

  For the last week, her texts had been different, more personal, more frequent, more arousing. She was the queen of the double entendre.

  The sun was strong today, so Doug spent the better part of it in the cockpit of the boat, where he could be shaded by the canvas dodger and still feel the breeze and plan his next reply. Lotto lay on the sunny stern of the boat, his white life vest on, tethered to the stanchion. The dog roused himself and jumped down to sit beside Doug when he brought a sandwich up from the galley.

  “You, sir, are an opportunist,” Doug chided. “Proud to know you.” He patted Lotto’s head. The dog looked like a cross between a small beagle and a terrier. They were both mongrels of a sort.

  “Well, Lot, what should we invest in today?”

  “I don’t think you, of all people, should have a dog named Lot,” a woman’s voice said.

  Doug stood, hastily setting his plate aside. Lotto made a beeline for it, but Doug was already out of the cockpit and staring at the dock. His heart pounded. The sun was blinding out here on the water, but he had on his sunglasses. It was her.

  “What are you doing here?” He hurried to unhook one of the lifelines, reaching his hand out to her. He wanted her to levitate, to get on board, to be his.

  What was she doing here? His heart was hammering, and his palms were already sweating. She took his hand, noticed the dampness, and raised her eyebrows, a sultry and mocking smile on her lips, her cool fingers with their perfectly polished nails resting lightly in his tanned grip. He grabbed her and, as soon as she put her loafer clad toes on the deck, he yanked her on board.

  “Don’t tell me you’re here on vacation.” He kissed her, bit her neck, tried to unbutton her blouse. Holy fuck, how fast could he get her into the cabin?

  She laughed at the onslaught.

  “Don’t make me deck you,” Sophia said, but she let him pick her up and plunk her down next to the wheel housing. She didn’t stop him from crowding up against her and pushing her toward the door to the cabin.

  Sophia made it down the stairs on her own steam, but it was Doug who moved her to the V-berth and ran back to bring Lotto in.

  “Stay!” he said, shoving a bit of board in the doorway to keep the dog from leaping out. He yanked Lotto’s life vest off. “Stay!” Then he slammed the door to the forward cabin in his new best friend’s face.

  “You too,” he said to Sophia. She lay on the bed, propped up on her elbows while he yanked off his docksiders and shoved down his jeans.

  “Hello to you too,” said the woman who was the sun, the moon, and the tides of fortune. “You certainly are feeling much better.”

  “Take off your clothes.” He didn’t want to waste a minute. Doug reached above them and shoved open the hatch, letting in the fresh air and the sounds of the marina.

  “Are you sure you want to do this first? You have something to ask me.” Sophia was smiling at him, but she was unbuttoning her blouse. Slowly, but she was at least complying.

  “I don’t want to talk,” he said, letting himself take in all of her, here, in his bed, on the boat. Now, in the sunshine of his new life. He unzipped her slacks and slid them down, stopping at her knees. Uncertainty gripped him. “Do you?”

  “I did, but it lacks a certain dignity now.” She smiled at him.

  He stepped back, opened the door, and rummaged in a tiny closet. He brought out a thin cotton robe and held it out to her.

  She took it, damn it. Doug pulled his pants back up.

  “Such a shame,” she murmured.

  “Do you want to talk, or don’t you?” He was feeling a little grumpy, but even he had to admit that accosting her without finding out why she was here was crass, even for him. The thing was, he didn’t want to know if she wasn’t staying. He’d dreamed of her here, in his new life so often, he could hardly stand to listen to whatever she was going to say. They’d been apart for months. Surely she wasn’t getting married already. Suddenly, he was sure that was why she was here despite the texts.

  “You’re here to tell me you’re getting married, aren’t you?” His gut twisted.

  “Mm-hmm.” She nodded, still smiling that shit-eating grin.

  Ben. Damn him, Doug thought. “I knew I should have slept with you first.”

  “Nah, it’ll be better this way,” she said.

  Now he was confused. The Sophia he knew, and for sure she hadn’t changed that much, wouldn’t sleep with one man while engaged to another. Would she? She had kissed him like a wild woman while she was still living with Ben. Now he was confused and aroused.

  “What will?”

  “The sex.”

  “So, we’re having sex?”

  “I hope so,” she said. She finished taking off her blouse and then put the robe on to Doug’s great disappointment. The light was just right in here, and he could see her pretty good. Pretty damn good.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to me naked?”

  “Not a chance, sailor. I want to be dressed when you ask me.”

  “Ask you...Ask you...” He stopped. Sophia was looking at him with her head tipped to the side, love and pity written all over her face.

  “Don’t you pity me,” he said.

  “Poor Doug, still dumb as a post,” she said. She stepped forward and put her hand on his cheek. “I’m here to interview with the cybercrime unit in Miami. Do I need to draw you a picture?”

  “You’re moving...?”

  “I’m waiting,” Sophia said, still smiling that crazy grin. “I certainly hope I didn’t make a mistake.”

  “Uh...”

  “I thought you were...”

  He got it. He put his hand over her mouth and looked around like his neck was spring-loaded. He didn’t have a blasted thing that looked like...there!

  “Do not say a word,” Doug warned. Her eyes were brown and fairly crackled with intelligence and laughter when he looked into them. He lunged to the side, plucking a hexagon-shaped nut from one of the shelves. Things were always breaking on a boat, so there were always nuts and bolts, and God help him, screws laying around. He turned back to her, his palms really sweating now, his heart hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears.

  “Sophia Moss...”

  “Yes?” She arched her eyebrows haughtily and gave a tiny nod at the minuscule bit of floor at his feet. It wasn’t even flat. He was down on his knees before her chin came back up.

  “You...” he choked up, blast it all.

  “Are you sure you’re...” she started. Doug thrust a hand in the air to silence
her.

  He heaved out a breath. Can I take one more? Yes, yes, I can. And inhaled.

  “You are the best person I’ve ever known.”

  There. That was better. Sophia’s nose looked a tad rosy. He relaxed enough to breathe. He could do this.

  “I love you more than life, more than freedom...” he wracked his brain, “more than Lotto.”

  She laughed, and his heart soared.

  “You are my treasure, you are where my heart is. Say that you’ll marry me.”

  “I will. Yes.”

  He popped up and shoved the nut on her finger.

  “Thank God!” He started to crowd her backward, back to the V-berth, back to where they needed to be.

  She was peeling off her robe. Doug shoved her onto the bed.

  “Whew, well, that’s a relief,” she said. Sophia said it. His wife-to-be was talking to him in his bedroom. His head spun. A minute ago, he’d been sharing lunch with a dog.

  Doug could hardly think straight.

  “What?” Her panties ripped quite easily. He shoved off his pants, flopping like a fish since they were both already on their sides.

  “Asking a woman to marry you isn’t easy for a guy,” she said, bracing herself against the hull as he rolled her over.

  “Get your ass up, woman,” he said, yanking her hips into his hands. “No. No,” he said. Not this way, not right after she said yes. He lifted her and flipped her onto her back, wriggling between her legs, framing her beautiful, beautiful face in his hands. This was right. “What?” he said.

  “I was saying I wasn’t sure...” She stopped and laughed, presumably at the look of sheer horror on his face. Oh, he was never living this down, was he?

  “You weren’t sure what?”

  “That you were tough enough!” Sophia giggled and tossed her arms around his neck. “Thank goodness that’s not your problem!”

  Problems. There was a problem with this. Doug raised himself, straight-armed, and looked down at Sophia. He swallowed.

  “What if Walker presses charges?” he asked. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “We just have to get through seven years before the statute of limitations runs out,” she said.