by Finn, Emilia
“Prison is better than dead.” Jay whisks by with gummy worms in one hand and his binoculars in the other. He drops a kiss on my lips, then heads back toward the kitchen. “I can probably bust you outta prison, but dead is dead.”
“Unless your name is Jay Bishop.”
He snorts. “We’re wily sons of bitches. We get nine lives each.”
“Mm.” I roll my eyes and finish tying my laces. “How many did you use already?”
He stops at the sink and turns. Leaning against the counter, he crosses an ankle as though it helps him think. “I swear, I shoulda died a hundred times already. And that was before becoming a junkie DEA agent.” He folds his arms and chuckles. “There was the time Kane and I went mountain climbing but didn’t take ropes. I fell a long-ass way, Soph, and busted myself up bad. Then there was the time I was run over by an inboard speed boat. The props should’ve chopped my head clean off, but I surfaced good as new. Nearly killed my brother with fright. There was the time I was hit by a car when I was six.”
“You were hit by a car?” I surge to my feet and regret my decision immediately when my feet protest. “Who hit you?”
He shrugs. “Some old folks. I ran into the street because I wanted to beat my brother home. Got smacked down and tossed twenty or so feet.”
“Did you break anything?”
“Nah, but I slept for a minute. Got up. Walked it off.” He chuckles. “I was six, but in my family, you don’t cry unless you wanna be given something to cry about. So I shook my leg and walked the rest of the way home.”
“You’re insane.”
He laughs. “I’ve heard that before. There was the time we went fishing.”
“Fishing?” I walk forward and fold myself into his embrace when he opens his arms. “You don’t look like a fisherman to me.”
“I’m not.” He buzzes his lips over my hair and bathes me in candy-flavored breath. “Kane and I had had enough of the hard knock life, so we decided we’d take a vacation out at Cape Cod. Fishing. No danger. No girls. Just quiet.”
“What happened?”
“We were fishing from the rock wall, and the waves jumped up and grabbed me. Slammed my head against the rocks until I was floating in the clouds.” He shakes his head. “Kane has had to drag my stupid ass out of so many dangerous situations, then we go into this Hayes case, and I end up getting myself killed anyway. I bet he blames himself, like he should’ve saved me again. But at the same time, he’s probably relieved to be rid of me.”
Stepping out of my embrace, Jay walks across the dining and living room and stops at the chair he turned last night so he could watch out the window. “He’s got a girl now, a life, a home. He’s not leaving her, and she’s not leaving this town, so this is it for him. He’s settling in and domesticating himself.” Gently, he fingers the lace curtain aside and peeks out into the mid-morning sun. “He couldn’t keep both me and her. We’re two different worlds, and she would have put her foot down eventually.”
He turns to me. “She’s a lawyer, and her family is so entrenched in this town that her brother is the chief of police, and the chief’s daddy was the chief before him. Then there’s me and Kane… bastards, thugs, and in my case, a cocaine addict with a proclivity for doing dumb shit.”
“You’re way too hard on yourself, you know that?” I walk forward and take my place against his chest again, because when he gets in these moods of self-doubt, he squeezes my heart until it hurts. “He loves you so much, Jay. And when you let him see you again, he’s going to be so unbelievably happy you’re okay. You’re right about one thing: I bet he blames himself for your death. He feels the same sense of responsibility for you as you do for him. But do you forget why we’re here? Because someone has him in their sights, and you’re going to fix it. You take care of each other; you take care of him, even when he thinks you’re dead. And don’t beat yourself up because Abel Hayes held you down and stuffed cocaine into your system. It was inevitable you’d come to crave it. That’s exactly why he did it.” Standing on my toes, I reach up and press my lips to his. “You’re sober now; you beat it. And you’re strong.”
At the sound of a rumbling engine rolling along the street, we turn and watch out the window as a classic Buick with old whitewall tires and faded red paint pulls up in Kane’s empty driveway. The truck that was in the driveway last night is now parked in the street behind the small Mazda.
We watch in silence for a beat as a long-haired man in jeans and a stained shirt climbs out and pockets the keys. He walks around front and heads up the front steps.
I mentally flip through the billion files I have stored in my mind and settle on the right one. “That’s Angelo Alesi.”
Jay’s body tenses. “How do you know?”
“He was in Infernos that day you…” I clear my throat. “Ya know. The day you died.”
“He was?”
“Yeah. I watch everything, remember? He ran in with Kane, grabbed a blonde, and pulled her out. Not ten minutes later, you were being loaded into an ambulance and rushed out.”
“He’s good?” Holding me against his side, he brings the binoculars up and watches Angelo step back when the front door cracks open. “He’s not gonna hurt my brother, right?”
“No, I don’t think so. He ran into a fiery club with Kane, then came out again with that blonde you were kinda crushing on.”
He chuckles. “The twins? One is Jessie; who’s the other?”
“Laine Lenaghan. She was an Infernos whore.”
His body snaps straighter as he brings the binoculars away. “She was?”
“Yeah, but not because she wanted to be. I tried to help her; I was going to have you deal with Abel and this dude Graham just like you dealt with Cole, but then it all went to shit that day, and the club imploded.”
“Looks like she’s out now.”
“Mm.” I glance out the window and smile when Kane’s front door opens fully and reveals the blonde in oversized sweats and a hoodie. Her hair is dirty and drab, her eyes sunken and sad. She steps into a pair of flip flops and moves past the local mechanic with her arms folded tight. “She looks so sad, Jay. I’m glad she’s out and has that mechanic looking at her the way he does. He looks like he might be here to fix it.”
Staring through the lace curtain, he watches and nods. “He looks at her like he wants to eat her up.”
I laugh and squeeze Jay close. “I think he’s going for the cool, unaffected look. But he sucks at it. Unfortunately for you, that blonde back home is unavailable. You gotta find a new girl to dream about.”
Finally, his eyes come away from the window and down to mine. “I dream brunette now.” He presses his lips to mine. “I haven’t thought blonde in a long, long time.” He tucks my hair back and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You sure you gotta go out alone? I can wear a Chucky mask and hide my identity.”
“Yeah, because that’s inconspicuous. I’ll be back in an hour at the most.” I step out of his arms and move toward my purse. I’ve stuffed my feet into extra pairs of socks today to cushion the pressure on my heels, but that means my shoes are extra tight. “Actually, probably two hours.”
“Sophia!”
“I’m going to buy clothes, then medical supplies, then groceries. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
He follows me toward the internal garage door and scowls. “I’d like it on record that the last time we split up in search of food, our apartment was firebombed, and you were shot.”
“It’s just a graze.” I beep the car open and slide in. Opening the window, I smile and arch my neck to keep him in my sight. “Barely a graze. I’ll be back, and I’ll text you periodically. Do not go outside!” I point at his chest. “I mean it, John D. Hamilton. Don’t blow this. No one knows we’re here. We’re ghosts, so don’t undo this.”
* * *
“Girls!” Blonde, average height, sexy and curvy in a way I’ll never be, a woman seethes at her teenage daughter in the middle of Jonah’s store. “Stop s
crewing around before I beat your asses.”
“Mom! Go forth and find the chips!” A curly-blonde teen and her brunette counterpart stand in a cart in aisle four wielding French bread sticks in their hands like swords, while the poor blonde woman is stuck pushing and pretending she doesn’t know them. “We need chips, dip, soda, and cake. Uncle Jack said it’s especially important we don’t forget the spicy dip.”
“Your Uncle Jack can kiss my peach ass,” the woman rumbles. “Tell him to get his lazy ass here and buy his own dip. Or better yet, tell him he can adopt you idiots and get you out of my home. You’re embarrassing.”
“Charge, Aunt Tina!” The brunette thrusts her sword forward and nearly topples the whole cart. “We’re not embarrassing. We’re enterprising. Also, Uncle Jack wants salami.”
“Screw it.” Aunt Tina pushes the cart forward with a heaving grunt and releases it so the girls hurtle to their death at the opposite end of the store. They squeal and clutch at each other, but Tina only chuckles and turns away with a clap of her hands.
Until her eyes meet mine. “Oh, shit.”
I laugh and nod toward the girls when they slam against the storeroom doors and flip their cart. Hair flying, legs swinging, arms flailing, they crash to the tile floor with squeals of pain and laughter, then, like car crash survivors, they pull each other from the wreck and dust themselves off.
“I saw that, and your whispered cussing before pushing them implies premeditation.”
“Sophia!” Tina walks forward with a large grin and zero suspicion in her blue eyes. “I haven’t seen you in months. Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Ah, you know. I’ve been working.” I clutch my basket close so I don’t have to hug her if she decides she wants to level up on our friendship. My ribs ache; my arm is still on fire, and then there’s the fact I don’t like hugging anyone.
Ever.
Except Jay.
“Always working,” I continue. “I had to travel recently to tie up some accounts and stuff.”
“We’ve missed you at the gym. We actually kinda dubbed you a self-defense dropout.” She grits her teeth and makes a long scar on her face wrinkle. I never asked how she got those scars, but they’re not vanity; they’re not accidental. They have a distinct abusive ex flavor to them that raises goosebumps on my skin. “Sorry about that. We get lots of women who walk through the door, only to walk out again and hide away. I made shitty assumptions about you.”
“It’s okay. I just got home last night. Literally.” I jiggle my basket as proof. “I need food, or I might die.”
“Will you come back to the gym soon? The girls would love to see you again, and you did so well with the classes you came to. You’re a natural.”
I joined the Rollin On Gym almost two years ago because I needed to know whose town I was in, who Riley Cruz was, and who the local PD were. Conveniently for me, everyone converges in Tina’s gym at one point or another. “I probably will, but give me a couple weeks. I rolled my ankle recently, so I need to let it heal, but after that.”
“For sure. We’ve actually just brought a new athletic trainer on staff, so if you need a little help with that or whatever, her services are part of your gym membership.” Backing up with a kind smile, she glances over her shoulder at her mischievous shopping partners, then back to me. “My daughter and my niece. The bane of my damn existence, I swear. How old are you, Sophia?”
“Ah… I’m twenty-five.” Most of the time, I feel worldly and fifty-five, but right now while under this beautiful woman’s gaze, I feel fifteen. It’s funny how someone can do that to you just with their presence.
“Twenty-five.” She scoffs. “I’d been a mom for years by then. My life was turned upside down from the moment she was born. Hell, from the moment she was conceived. I wouldn’t change it, but I’ve been tempted to tie my daughter to a tree a few dozen times.”
“Parenting is not for the faint-hearted.”
“It sure ain’t. Okay, I gotta run before they set this place on fire.” She spins toward the giggling girls, then turns back as an afterthought. “It’s so nice to see you again! I’ll be in the gym; you know where to find us when you’re ready.”
“I do.”
“Girls!” She turns and sends them scattering when they build a six-foot tower of canned food and start playing Jenga with the bottom cans. “Put them back on the shelves. Now!”
I tilt my head to the side as the girls round the aisle and dash out of sight, but before they go, I catch a glimpse of their sweatpants: matching, black, with purple script. I recognize the gym logo on the thigh, but on their butts in large white writing, it says, “Caution! Do not look here. My daddy is a Roller.”
Something tells me those girls don’t choose to wear those pants, but are somehow forced. Or maybe they’re being punished.
Either way, they have giant neon lights shining over their heads.
TROUBLE.
Shaking my head, I turn away and select several bags of chips for Jay and me to snack on later, then I head to the freezers and buy up all the steak and chicken. We need protein like we need air.
I never expected to pair up with a guy who eats the way I do, but here we are, eating the equivalent of a family of six, and we get to do it every two hours during the day.
I actually kind of love it. Instead of being a freak for my unique appetite, I just get to pop the button on my jeans and sink into the couch each night with Jay while we fist the chips and protein bars.
* * *
Three hours after leaving the house, an hour longer than my allotted time, and seventeen missed – and returned – phone calls later, I pull into the garage at home and hold my breath, because Kane Bishop stands in his front yard while he checks his mail and patrols his street.
He wouldn’t be a Bishop if he wasn’t extra vigilant when doing mundane everyday things.
I drive a regular SUV on a regular street, with a regular ponytail, and a regular sweater that I bought from one of the only clothes stores in this regular town. I have a trunk full of grocery bags, and nothing at all to alert the neighbors that my house may be different than all the rest.
There’s no reason for Kane Bishop to watch my garage door close, except to make sure I pose no risk to the sweet girlfriend he only just got back.
“Sophia!” As soon as the garage door is closed, Jay moves through the house and stomps down the steps that lead into the garage. He rushes to my door and swings it wide until I climb out and find myself squished between the car and his strong body. “You’re late, woman.”
“I called you back! I told you where I was so you wouldn’t have to worry.”
“And yet I worried.” Leaning in, he presses a punishing kiss to my jaw that ends in a bite. “I worried for you because I couldn’t see you, and short of running my ass through town and blowing our cover, I couldn’t get to you.”
“Which is why I called you right back each time you called. I’m safe. Turn it down a notch, crazy. For this moment, I think we’re safe in this town. Nobody knows we’re here, and no alerts have gone out that Kane’s here either. We have time to breathe.”
Shaking his head, he presses a second, gentler kiss to my jaw to soothe the sting from a moment ago. Turning away, he moves to the back of the SUV and begins taking the grocery bags out.
After Tina and her girls left the store, I ended up trading my basket for a full cart and filling it so much, the blonde who served me beeped everything past the register with a huff of annoyance. I spent several hundred dollars on groceries that’ll last only days, and several hundred more on clothes so Jay and I wouldn’t be stuck in the same outfits we’ve been in for a couple days already.
Jeans, sneakers, underwear.
“Did you buy a tutu, Soph?” Jay paws through the bags and searches. “I don’t see a leotard or slippers.”
Scowling, I meet him at the back of the car and grab a couple of the lighter bags. “Why the hell would I buy a tutu, dummy? What the hell are
you thinking?”
“It’s just that…” He hefts a dozen bags with a grunt and heads toward the door that leads to the kitchen. “We escaped a fiery building, dodged bullets, drove a long distance, stayed and fucked in a shitty hotel, and now we’re here.”
“So?” I follow him in and drop my bags to the floor when my bad arm burns. “What’s your point?”
“Well, putting all that together basically means we’re in a loving, committed relationship now. We’re practically married.” He pauses and looks to the ceiling. “We’ll marry after we reveal ourselves to Kane. He can be my best man.”
“Are you insane? What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Not insane.” He turns and heads back to the garage for more groceries. “My point was, we’re basically in love now, so in exchange for commitment and love and that one week a month where you murder me for existing, I think I deserve to see you in a tutu. Honestly, it’s not asking too much. I get lap dances for the rest of my life.” He hefts more heavy bags out and grunts. “Trust me, I’m not unhappy about that. You’re so fucking beautiful, it’s not even a hardship to commit to just one chick. All those guys in Murphy’s Law wanted you so bad, they were willing to die for it. But here I am, and I get these dances exclusively.”
He’s officially lost the fucking plot.
“I never agreed to dance for you!”
“And while those dances are amazing and sexy,” he forges on, “I’ve really got this fantasy going on in my head. I need to see you in a tutu, Soph. Like, my heart yearns for it the way it yearns for food, and gummies, and once upon a time, cocaine.” Stopping on the stairs, he turns with a wide smile and slams his lips to mine. “I need to see you in a tutu, babe. I need it more than food, and it can’t be a sissy little tutu, it has to be massive and full. And it has to stand up so I see your panties the whole time. Or better yet, dance without panties, because by the time you’re done, I’m gonna fuck you till you scream.”
