Flesh and Blood (Dixie Mafia Series Book 1)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “He said somethin’ about Magnolia Arms.”

  Dix had mentioned moving her into Magnolia Arms when an apartment opened up, but things seemed to be going so well here. As the owner, maybe he’d gone over to check on the property.

  To pass the time until he arrived, Belle sat with Vick and tried to make small talk—even though the hacker wasn’t much of a conversationalist at the moment.

  After a bit, Dix breezed down the hall, and he stopped in the doorway. For some reason, he didn’t acknowledge her.

  “Any phone calls for me while I was out, Vick?”

  “Nope, it’s been quiet.” Her eyes were hard and flinty.

  Something was definitely up.

  “Hello, Dix,” Belle said slowly.

  “Belle, you’re up. I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you….” Dix’s gaze settled on the wall behind her.

  What’s going on?

  “Okay.”

  Belle followed him into the office, and he shut the door behind them before crossing to the table and sitting down opposite her.

  “Is something wrong?” Belle held on to her cup as if it were a lifeline.

  “No, nothin’s wrong. I thought we’d discuss our contract. It’s comin’ to an end.”

  Belle released a breath and sat back in the chair. Maybe he was twitchy because he wanted to cancel it and start fresh.

  “Fire away.”

  “Would you like to review it?” Dix grabbed a folder from a nearby pile and handed it to her as if he thought she wanted to comb through the ridiculous thing.

  “No, I’m good.” After taking a cursory glance at the document, she passed it back to him.

  “I feel…it’s no longer necessary.” His face was utterly blank and unreadable.

  “Because you want something more? You want a real relationship.” Belle set her cup on the edge of his desk and leaned forward.

  “Belle, you ain’t my girlfriend.” Dix frowned. “We’ve never had a relationship. I’ve been very clear about my boundaries.”

  No, this isn’t happening.

  She wrapped her arms around herself. All of a sudden, she felt cold.

  “I’m sorry if you thought it was, but I was clear what my expectations were upfront. I wanted companionship and sex. Nothin’ more.” He just sat there at his desk, stony and impersonal. Unreachable.

  “Well, you got more. This past couple of weeks—”

  “You were scared and hurt, so I offered you comfort. Don’t read more into it.” Dix picked up a sheaf of papers and thumbed through it as though he had better things to do than speak with her.

  How could he sit there saying these awful things? Acting like he didn’t care about her at all? The man had tried to break through a door to get to her. He’d beaten up her ex-boss for hurting her. And he’d removed his wedding ring after she’d spent the night with him. His actions spoke much louder than any words. And she’d seen his affection for her—felt it—when he’d held her.

  “I know you feel something for me, and I feel it too. Put the paperwork down and look at me.”

  He locked eyes with her, but she didn’t see a damn thing in them—no warmth or indecision on his part, not even lust, just inscrutable blackness.

  “You’re mistaken. I like you and I lusted after you.”

  “Past tense? Meaning you're over it?”

  What a liar! Last night, he hadn’t been over it. Unless he’d been saying goodbye...

  Belle wondered if she took off his shirt and threw it at him if he’d still be immune to her charms. She doubted it, but she refused to lower herself to his level.

  “Yes, I’m over it. Our contract has run its course.”

  “You and I got close, and it’s too much for you to handle.”

  Dix said nothing.

  “Dammit, talk to me. The past two weeks, talking to you kept me sane. We can handle anything together.”

  “Nothin’ more to talk about, Belle.” Dix still couldn’t look her in the eye, the coward.

  “I’m not something you bought, like a car.”

  “No, you aren’t a car I bought.”

  Finally! She’d gotten through to him.

  “Buyin’ an item implies you’ll be keepin’ it. I leased you, and to follow through on your metaphor, it’s time to shop around for another model.”

  His words hurt, but he’d obviously meant them to sting. Belle forced in a shuddering breath and swallowed a lump the size of a goose egg.

  Dix wanted to throw her away, just like Emmett had. Why did men find her so disposable? It took everything Belle had to keep herself together.

  “I see.”

  He flipped the agreement around so she could read the other set of signature lines dissolving their arrangement. Dix had already signed and dated it. He held a pen out to her.

  Dix sighed. “I shouldn’t have said—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” The words came out low and hoarse. Belle couldn’t bring herself to take the pen.

  Dix cleared his throat. “I…enjoyed our time together, but it’s come to an end, so let’s finish it.”

  Enjoyed. Dix had enjoyed her like a meal or a movie, as though she were a fleeting experience he’d had. Had she imagined his care and concern for her? Had it all been in her head?

  “I don’t want you to worry about money, so I set up an account for you at the bank. And I made a very sizeable donation to Aransas Behavioral Health. Remember that family therapist job you wanted so much?”

  Belle nodded absently. The blood roared in her ears, and she had trouble concentrating on the words. Nothing felt real at the moment.

  “Well, it’s yours. I made the donation contingent on your employment.” Dix continued on. “For the next year, I’ll pay the rent on an apartment for you at Magnolia Arms. I spoke with the super. He’s been workin’ on repairs in a vacated unit, and he’s agreed to expedite the process. It should be ready by the end of today.”

  “How kind of you.”

  He disregarded the sarcasm. “You’ll have your career back, a decent place to live, and money in the bank. You’ll want for nothin’, Belle.”

  Want for nothing…except him.

  “All you need to do is sign there, and I’ll set everythin’ in motion.” Again, he offered her a pen.

  Belle took it with trembling fingers.

  She had a decision to make. Belle could hold her tongue, take his humiliating offer, and slink away. Or she could lay it all on the line, tell him how she felt and make one last ditch effort to reach him.

  For once in her life, she’d be brave, put herself out there.

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t want any contracts or deals—I only want you.”

  He flinched.

  “You told me I shouldn’t sit on the sidelines. I shouldn’t be afraid to find my passion, to fall in lo—”

  “Are you gonna sign this thing or what?”

  Her throat ached, and her vision blurred. No, she wouldn’t cry, not in front of him.

  She wanted to tell him to stick his offer up his own ass, but she’d become a pragmatist over the past few months. Belle never wanted to be without resources and options again. Dix had even advised her to use this situation to her advantage when she’d first signed on. Damn good advice, even if it had come from an asshole.

  Belle scribbled her signature on the line.

  He picked up the paper and waved a hand at the door. “Vick will make arrangements for the movers and anythin’ else you need.”

  “Fantastic.”

  Dix picked up his phone and dialed a number, dismissing her.

  Head held high, Belle walked out of his office, and she refused to look back.

  Chapter Twenty

  A month later, Belle had everything she’d originally wanted—a snazzy Magnolia Arms apartment, financial security, and a great new job. She should be celebrating, but she’d never been more miserable.

  As soon as she could afford it, Belle wanted to move.
The apartment reminded her of Dix since he’d bought and paid for it. She could do without a fresh stab of pain every hour or so.

  The intercom buzzed.

  Belle pressed the button. A small black and white image of Byron Beauregard appeared on camera. Well, if she had to say one good thing about Magnolia, at least it kept strange mobsters from her door.

  “What do you want?”

  “Well, that’s a fine how do you do.”

  “Are you here because of Dix? Because I’m not—”

  “No, ma’am.” Byron held his hands up. “I’m here as a free agent—no agenda. Just bein’ neighborly and checkin’ on you.”

  “I’m fine.” It was a huge lie, but she’d say anything to make him go away.

  “Yeah, you sound like you’re fine.” The sarcasm was palpable, even through the miracle of technology.

  “What’s that crack supposed to mean?”

  “Take a guess, darlin’. Are we gonna have this entire conversation on the intercom?” He grinned. “If you don’t mind your new neighbors hearin’ all about your dirty laundry, I’d be happy to continue.”

  The man didn’t take no for an answer, as a rule, so she could either hear him out or listen to him over the intercom for hours.

  Belle rolled her eyes. “Do you want to come up?”

  “Come down instead and we’ll talk in the courtyard. I need a smoke.”

  “I hate being outside,” she grumbled.

  “It’ll do you some good, shut-in. Get your ass down here and quit bitchin’.”

  Her hands balled into fists.

  “I ain’t got all day.”

  “Fine, but I hate you.”

  “Most people do, darlin’.”

  After yanking on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she walked out the interior door. The complex had a beautiful courtyard with graceful magnolia trees, a tiled patio, wrought iron benches, and flower gardens.

  She found Byron seated on a bench, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. When he saw her, he pulled out two capped Mason jars from a black bag and handed one to her. The glass was wet with condensation and cool to the touch.

  “Have some ’shine. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Belle doubted it. She’d have to drink a bottle with all three meals and bathe in the stuff to even faze the pain.

  “And go easy on it. This is an old family recipe, and it can make you snot-slingin’ drunk.”

  She tipped it back and took a good, long pull. The moonshine slipped down her throat in a fiery liquid blaze, like alcoholic napalm. She coughed, and he pounded her back.

  “That’s harsh,” she croaked.

  “Ain’t it, though?” Byron took a healthy swallow like it was a glass of cold water. “So, have you squared with what your daddy did?”

  Belle shifted on the seat. She’d been thinking about Emmett, trying to make sense of the situation, but confiding in Byron felt odd.

  He sensed her hesitation. “You can tell me. My father wasn’t the family type either.”

  “Oh, yeah. Did he try to kill you?” she asked bitterly.

  “Naw, but he killed my mother.”

  Belle gasped. “I’m sorry.”

  “Happened a long time ago.” He studied his moonshine, his face blank. “For lack of a better term, the man was a monster.”

  She nodded. The term suited Emmett, too. “I knew he never loved me, but I never imagined he’d try to kill me.”

  “That’s what monsters do, darlin’.” He tried to give her a jaunty I-don’t-give-a-damn smile, but it faltered. She had a feeling beneath all his swagger, lurked a lot of pain.

  Belle touched his arm, and he shrugged it off.

  Someday real soon, she’d sit down with a therapist of her own and hash it all out. It was way past time to put her daddy issues into perspective and deal with them.

  “You didn’t come over to talk about our fathers, so why are you really here?”

  “I always thought Dix was a damn fool, but now I know he is.” Beauregard leaned back and stretched out his legs.

  “I’m not arguing with you.”

  “When I first started workin’ for the outfit, he watched out for me, showed me the ropes. He loved his wife somethin’ fierce, and when she up and died on him, Dix lost it. If it was me, I’d never sign on for that kind of torture again, but then he met you….” Byron shook his head.

  “Are you implying he loves me? Because you’re wrong—he said it was business.”

  “Ever occur to you he was lyin’ through his teeth?”

  Belle didn’t want to think about it anymore. It was pointless. He’d tossed her away, just like Emmett, and she no longer gave a damn…right?

  “None of it matters now. It’s over.”

  “You sure?” His brows arched.

  “Are you trying to play matchmaker?”

  “’Course not. I done told you I’m only bein’ neighborly. Now drink your ’shine and tell me about your new job.”

  Belle drank the alcohol and talked to him.

  If Dix thought he could come over here and sweet-talk his way into her life again, he was in for a nasty surprise.

  ***

  Dix threw a dart at the target. Bullseye.

  He glared at the coffee in his mug before taking a slow drink—it’d gotten cold, and the honey had congealed along the side. Disgusting. Should’ve made it an Irish. Though he doubted it would’ve helped his mood.

  Earlier, he hadn’t been able to find the files on a delinquent account, so he’d gone off on Vick. She’d taken a long lunch and hadn’t been back since. Dix didn’t blame her—he’d been an asshole.

  Right now, he wanted to hit something.

  It’d been a month since he’d let Belle get away. Horseshit. Sittin’ here lyin’ to myself. Since he’d pushed her away because he was trying to do the right thing.

  Or maybe because I’m a coward?

  He threw another dart at the wall.

  That’s when Byron strode in the door, Jasper right behind him.

  “What do you want?” Dix was in no mood to deal with Dixie Mafia business, especially if it was a problem.

  “I’m just gonna say it—pull your head out of your ass.” Byron squared his shoulders. “I’ve had about enough of your bullshit—mopin’ around this place like a sad sack. You’re distracted and edgy—it’s bad for business. And, most importantly, you’re gettin’ on my fuckin’ nerves.”

  Dix didn’t even try to defend himself. “You here to tell me off too?” He glanced at Jasper.

  “Yeah, but I can only stay a minute. I got plans. These past few weeks, you’ve been….” Jasper faltered for a second. He was several ranks lower than Dix, so he had to watch it.

  “A dick?” Byron supplied. “An asshole? A lily-livered bastard?”

  “Yeah, what he said. And Vixen told me you were a ‘jerk face’ to her earlier.”

  Dix sighed. “I’ll apologize.” He was a jerk face, and he hoped Vick wouldn’t hold it against him. Fuck, if she walked, his business would be screwed.

  “Good, and she’s takin’ the rest of the day off to spend with me. Jasper out…!” He turned on his heel and walked away.

  “Well?” Byron crossed his arms, staring Dix down.

  “Well what?” Byron had the annoying habit of sticking his nose into other people’s lives, even though he kept most of his secrets under wraps.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Mind your own fuckin’ business.”

  “I can’t. It’s interferin’ with work.”

  “No it ain’t. Why don’t we talk about your love life instead?” Dix crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Ain’t got one to speak of. I travel light.” Byron grinned.

  “What about Jane?”

  “What about her?” A muscle worked in his jaw.

  “Bullshit.” Dix thought Byron cared for the pretty lawyer something fierce, even though he wouldn’t admit to it.

  “I don’t g
ive a flyin’ fuck about love, but you’re a mess. You’ve always been a mentor and friend, but you need the advice this time.”

  For all his protestations, Dix knew Byron was right.

  Nothing had gotten him out of this funk. He’d drunk himself into a stupor and tried some retail therapy—now he had a couple thousand dollars’ worth of cuff links he didn’t feel like wearing. Dix had contemplated finding a new mistress, but even the thought of another woman left him cold.

  He’d begun to wonder if he’d made a huge mistake.

  Damn, he missed her—the way she loved his coffee pot, how she went on and on about those musicals...

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Too damn bad.” Byron sat down in a Queen’s Anne chair.

  “Leave me the fuck alone.” Dix wanted to just sit there and be miserable.

  “No. Do us all a favor—drive over to her place, and grovel.” Byron lit a cigarette and took a puff.

  “She wouldn’t even let me in the door.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “How the fuck would you know?”

  “’Cuz I saw her the other day. Spent an hour gettin’ the lowdown—she’s miserable without you.”

  Hope flared in his chest, but Dix quashed it. Giving in to his fears seemed a lot easier.

  “Tell me about her. What’s she been up to?” He was starved for news about Belle.

  “I suggest you ask her yourself.”

  “I appreciate the cupid routine, but that dog won’t hunt.” Dix had already blown it with her and Lord knows she was better off without him.

  “Not if you sit around and brood about it. Before you head over, take a fuckin’ shower and put on a new suit. Give the girl a good show.”

  “I don’t smell.” Dix slyly sniffed beneath his arm.

  “Yes, you do. And do somethin’ special while you’re at it. Love ain’t my area of expertise, but I know women, and you gotta get their attention.”

  Dix doubted it’d be enough to win her back. Yeah, I fucked this up real good.

  “There, I’ve done my part.” Byron stood and brushed his hands together as if he’d dusted them off. “Get it done.”

  After Byron left, Dix sat there for the longest time, pondering what he’d said. Ellie had been taken from him, but he’d deliberately pushed Belle away. He could be accused of many things—but cowardice wasn’t one of them. Everything Dix wanted was within his reach, but he had to be brave enough to go after it—assuming, of course, Belle didn’t hate his guts.