by Ali Parker
"May I?" She hesitated before picking up the photo. She needed a closer look.
He smiled and nodded as Drake leaned in closer. The sexy aroma of his soap and skin rolled over her and she glanced at him as if warning him to back the hell up.
"Yes. I have one like this. It's at my shop."
"You sure about that?" the cop asked and took the picture before showing a few more.
"Don't answer that." Drake leaned forward and pulled the picture toward them. He glanced up. "Paul, I was at the fire that day. The evidence of what was used to set the place on fire could not have survived."
"I agree, but that doesn't mean we don't have a few things that place your client in the shop just before the fire."
"What?" Sicily yelled, her emotions going from calm to full-blown panic.
"Did you know that the old woman who runs the shop has been put in the hospital?" The cop turned back to Sicily as the reality of the situation rolled over her.
They believe I did it.
"Unrelated," Drake barked. “Stick to your questions or we'll be leaving."
"Right." Paul sat back and tapped on his pad of paper. "Where were you on Saturday?"
"At the gym, with Drake and his staff." Sicily nodded toward him as numbness started to wash over her. Judy was in the hospital and her bitch of a daughter was probably laughing her head off. Where Sicily wasn't willing to play nefarious games, a healthy level of competition had been part of the fun between them. There was nothing Sicily wouldn't do for Judy, the bakery's namesake and the sweet elderly woman, who was in the hospital now.
"All day?" The cop leaned forward and glanced toward Drake.
"I was at home sleeping. Had lunch with my roommates, worked out, and went back home after that."
"Got an alibi for Saturday morning at three?"
"I was asleep."
"Were your roommates at the house then?" He leaned in and Sicily sat back, suddenly overwhelmed. Tears burned her gaze and she shook her head.
"I guess. As I said, I was asleep. I would never hurt anyone. I'll get the cardigan from the shop and show it to you. I care about Judy, and am headed to the hospital to check on her now that I know." The tears spilled over and Drake took charge of the conversation.
"Charge her with something or ask your questions and make it brief. My client's been through a lot lately." Drake patted the table.
Paul nodded. "We have a little more to do and then we'll revisit with you. No need to look for the sweater. It was in Judy's and is part of our evidence."
He picked up a bag from the floor and dropped it on the table.
The room spun and Sicily took a shallow breath, unsure of what to say or do.
"Could belong to anyone. DNA test it and call us." Drake stood, reaching down and pulling Sicily up. "Come on, Miss Moretti. We're done here."
Sicily nodded and walked out into the hall with Drake's arm around her back. They reached the front door and he pushed it open before pulling her to the side.
"How do they have that sweater? Is it yours? Do you need to tell me something?"
"No. I'll get mine. I wouldn't... never mind." She jerked from him as a sob left her.
They didn't believe her.
He didn't believe her.
Fuck all of it.
Chapter 12
Drake let out a long sigh as he parked at the gym and locked up his bike. The look on Sicily's face said that she assumed the worst from him – again. He was simply trying to get her to help him figure out why the fuck the sweater was at Judy's. He wasn't insinuating anything. The girl had brothers. She had to know that most men who wanted to say something would just say it.
First her thinking that he was continuously poking at her weight and not that she was a criminal.
"So fucking ridiculous," he growled and dropped the chain the bike. A soft grasp resounded behind him and he realized how loud he had been with his cursing. The Beltmans were walking out of the gym and stopped in their tracks. "I'm so sorry."
"It's all right, son." Mr. Beltman reached out and patted Drake on the shoulder. "Something got you stirred up?"
He glanced to Mrs. Beltman with a look of apology on his face and nodded. "Yeah. The girl of my dreams is quickly becoming a nightmare."
"Drop her ass," Mr. Beltman grumbled and huffed.
"Frank. Watch your language." She glanced at Drake. "You say the word fuck and he thinks he can start ranting and raving like a sailor again. Did you tell him you were a sailor, honey?"
"He did." Drake laughed and moved to the door, turning around and smiling. "Sorry again, guys. I appreciate you letting me slide this time."
"Do you love her?" the older man barked out.
"I think so." Drake glanced down and hoped like hell they were the only ones hearing the conversation. He didn't feel up to explaining himself to anyone else right now.
"Then fight through it. Over-communicate, I always say."
"You do not." Mrs. Beltman popped him again. "All sailors are liars. You hear me?"
Drake laughed and waved, slipping into the gym before they could start on him again. They were good people, and just seeing them lifted his mood a bit. He glanced up and nodded at Violet and Jasmine before making a beeline to the small office he had set up for himself near the back of the gym.
Everything with Sicily would work out one way or the other. The old man was right. He just had to communicate more and keep pushing as much as she would let him. He closed his door and dropped down into his chair before pulling out his phone. A quick text wouldn't hurt anything.
Drake: What if... just what if... my question earlier was to try and get you to join my team in solving this mystery? What if I'm actually a pretty decent guy and the type that says exactly what he means? Like, no mincing words or any of that shit? What if you just don't know me well enough yet? Sicily... what if?
She didn't answer right away and he re-read his text before dropping the phone on his desk and leaning back. He brushed his hands over his face as the image of her at the station rolled over him. Her tight dark blue jeans were stretched across her ass and fit so well it was sickening. Those heels she wore drove desire to the center of his gut, her legs thin and fit just like he liked them.
He brushed his hand down the front of his slacks, trying to think back to the last time he made love to a woman. It had to have been since before meeting her. He couldn't fathom going to another town for a one-night stand after starting to have feelings for the wayward baker.
"Fuck. Why do you have to be so damn difficult?"
The phone buzzed and he jumped up like his ass was on fire, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. He had it bad. This wasn't good at all. Picking up his phone, he checked it and it was a text from Demetri to get the blue phone out.
"This can't be good." Drake moved to his file cabinet and unlocked it before pulling out a bright blue phone D had given him the last time they were together. It was encrypted and allowed only the two of them to pick up on it. The reminder of his past life caused him to suffer a full-body shiver. Things were so much better than they used to be. Death and the threat of dismemberment always lurked around every corner in his younger years. He'd take girl problems any day over what used to keep him up at night and haunt his dreams.
"Hey." D picked up on the first ring.
"Hey yourself, brother. What's going on?" Drake locked the door to his office and sat back down. The situation with Sicily would have to wait a little while. If D was calling... something was wrong.
"Mom's not doing good, man. I want you to come home and see her before she passes."
Drake rubbed his chest absently as sadness washed over him. "Fuck, man. I knew this was going to be bad news. You never call with anything but shitty news."
D laughed, but the sound fell flat. "I'll work on that. This weekend, Drake."
"That bad?" Drake closed his eyes and shoved the need to cry as far down in his belly as he could manage.
"Really bad. She's
asking for you and everyone thinks she's nuts."
"I bet. She thinks I'm dead, D. Like all of them do."
"Nah, bro. I told her that you were just hidden really well to keep you away from Joe."
"Fuck, D. You know she could murmur that stuff and have me caught. I'd never live to tell about it if my dad knew I was hiding from him and his shit."
"She's so out of it that no one would believe her. Come here and Izzy and I will come get you, Drake. Flight is on Friday afternoon and you can fly back out Sunday. I'll have the boys set up a special time for you to come in and visit her."
"You can keep the visit under wraps from everyone?" Drake looked up as worry tugged at him. How good would it be to see his mother before she passed?
"Yeah. Trust me."
"I always have. Can I bring someone with me?"
"You got a girl finally?" Demetri chuckled as Drake shook his head.
"Fuck you."
"Not my type, pretty boy."
"Yeah, your type’s been ignoring you for the last twenty years." Drake's turn to laugh.
"Alright. I'm gonna getcha ass for that one." D laughed again. "Tickets will be on your other phone in a few minutes. I'll send two. The girl know about all of us?"
"Sort of. She knows all she needs to know for now."
"Hmmm... sounds serious."
"Yeah, speaking of. I gotta go. I'll see you later this week. Tell momma to hang on for me."
"Will do. Stay safe."
Drake stood and turned the phone off before dropping it back into the middle drawer of his filing cabinet. He locked it and walked back to the desk, the ding coming from his regular phone most likely the tickets. There was a slim chance Sicily would go with him to Chicago on a whim, but if there was one thing that would entice her, it would be to find out more about his past.
His mention of being Joe's boy on Saturday and her reaction told him that she or someone close to her had been digging. He needed to ask her to stop. It was far too dangerous for all of them, especially him.
He grabbed his phone and walked back out into the gym. "I'm out for a while. Don't let the place go to hell."
"Already has," Violet called after him.
"Ah, then never mind. You're fired."
The girl’s laughing at him caused him to smile. If only Sicily could see a version of him that included the fun-loving guy he could be when life was a little settled. Maybe that's what he needed to do. Focus on showing her the side of himself that she hadn't really taken notice of yet.
Flowers. Dinner. Sex.
Definitely sex.
***
Nerves tore up his center as he walked up to the shop and turned. Her car wasn't in the parking lot.
"Shit." He pushed the door open as Martin looked up from the register and smiled. The place was empty because it was so close to closing time.
"Hey, Mr. DeMarco. How are you, sir?"
"Good, Martin. Your bossy boss here?" He lifted the flowers. "If not, I gotcha something."
Martin laughed and shook his head. "No, sr. She's been off today because of all of the police drama this morning."
"Did you guys get to go to lunch?"
"We did. Great food, but the company was awesome." Martin picked up a towel and adverted his eyes as his cheeks colored a little.
The kid had a crush on Sicily. It was almost comical. He was what? Seventeen?
"So you're a senior this year?"
"Sure am. I'm getting ready to head to New York after graduation. I got into NYU. I plan to own my own bakery like Sicily someday. Might even come back here and see if she's ready for a partnership." He wagged his eyebrows.
The kid was egging Drake on. He had to be.
"Interesting. I don't think I know your family, do I?" Drake leaned against the counter and eyed the kid, something about him a little unnerving.
"Sure you do. It was my Aunt Margaret's shop that got burned down. Judy is my Grandma." He shrugged and started to clean again.
Drake stiffened. "Why the hell aren't you working over there, then?"
"They didn't have an opening. My grandma keeps me pretty busy with her yard and stuff, but they don't take my passion for baking seriously."
"Hmmmm... Does Sicily know that?"
"I don't know. Wasn't part of the interview. There's no need to do a family background check on the guy who's rolling your buns and basting your pastries." He glanced up and locked his gaze on Drake's.
This kid's outta his fucking mind. Why hadn't I noticed before?
Drake nodded and walked to the door. "Alright, well have fun rolling and basting. I'm going to get the girl. Later, kid."
He walked out and got on his bike. Something was fucked up with the situation and only Sicily could be the judge of how to handle it. He would hit her up with it and the hopes of scoring a date the next day. Her not answering his text meant she wasn't willing to listen today, but he could wait.
Chapter 13
She still hadn't answered his text from the day before. The honest truth of it was that she didn't know how to. Tugging on her yoga pants and leaning over her bed, she pulled the text up again.
Drake: What if... just what if... my question earlier was to try and get you to join my team in solving this mystery? What if I'm actually a pretty decent guy and the type that says exactly what he means? Like, no mincing words or any of that shit? What if you just don't know me well enough yet? Sicily... what if?
"Yeah, what if?" she grumbled and fell forward, flopping down on her bed accidentally. A growl left her and she rolled on her back before throwing her legs in the air and trying to wiggle into the pants.
Lisa stopped by the door and snorted. "Um, you need some help?"
"Go away. I'm trying to get these on and someone washed them in hot water."
"They're yoga pants, Sis. They are supposed to look like someone painted them on you."
"Then never mind." Sicily ripped them from the middle of her thighs where they were stuck and tossed them across the room. She sat up and let out a long sigh. "Do you think men say things that hint around what they really mean?"
"Um, yeah, you're going to have to reword that and say it again." Lisa laughed and walked to where the pants were crumpled on the floor, picking them up and stopping in front of the bed as she rolled one of the legs up tight. "Give me your foot. I'll show you the art to these."
Sicily lifted her foot, not willing to fight over it. "So like if I said to you, 'Those pants look good. They make you look slim,' would you think I'm simply saying you look good, or thank God for those pants because your fat ass looks horrid in everything else."
Lisa glanced up and lifted her eyebrow. "You sound fucking mental. Girls beat around the bush and add hidden meaning to everything. Men say it like it is. If Marc says I look good, I look good. If he says he wants tacos, he's not feeling me out to see if I want steak."
Sicily nodded and lifted her other foot as Lisa worked the pants up her leg. "I guess I expect Drake to judge me any minute about my weight."
"That's because you judge yourself." Lisa shrugged. "When I thought I was a lesbian in high school, my mom and dad tried to be cool about it. They grounded me over my grades and sneaking out of the house, but I remember turning everything back to blame them for doing those things because I was gay. It had nothing to do with me being gay and everything to do with me sneaking out of the fucking house. I did that because I knew at any minute they were going to start belittling me and punishing me simply for a life choice. You're doing that to yourself now. No one is judging you, but you're blaming them for doing it just in case it starts. Stop. It's dumb."
"You went through a lesbian spell in high school? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you were my girl crush." Lisa shoved the pants up high and winked. "Hey, baby. How you doin’?"
Sicily laughed and swatted her with a pillow before getting up and trying to chase after her as she bolted. "These damn pants are stuck on my thighs again."
; Lisa paused by the door and smiled. "What lovely thighs they are."
Sicily rolled her eyes and bent over, jerking at them and jumping until they were on. Why anyone would put themselves through the torture of wearing tight-fitting yoga pants was beyond her, until she looked in the mirror.
"Oh, my God. These make me look slim." She smiled and turned the other way. "I love these things."
"Told ya!" Lisa yelled from down the hall. "Just don't wear them too long."
"Why? I love them."
"They cut off circulation."
Sicily chuckled and walked to the closet, changing shirts and putting on tennis shoes before grabbing her phone and heading to the kitchen. "I'm headed to the gym. You want to go with me?"
"No, but when are you going to the shop? You've been leaving Martin there a lot lately."
"Yeah, I know. He's such a great kid and so much help." Sicily picked up her keys. "I'm going to work out and then I'm going in. I wanted to play racquetball today, but I don't have a partner. You up for it?"
"Um no. Does this look like a racquetball body?" Lisa ran her hands down her perfect body.
"Yes, actually it does." Sicily laughed and walked to the door. "Wish me luck."
"On what?"
"On whooping Drake’s ass."
"You're going to get him to play with you?"
"Sure, why not?" She didn't wait for the answer, but slipped out into the mid-fall morning. The hint of burning leaves and chilly weather left her feeling fully alive. Lisa was right on her assessment of the situation. Sicily was waiting for the other shoe to fall and preparing for the worst.
It was unfair to everyone, especially Drake. She got in the car and pulled out her phone, texting him.
Sicily: What if... just what if I'm the girl who was never good enough? What if I was the one who struggled with my weight? With death and depression? What if you seem too good to be true? What if I'm scared that letting you in a little would leave me open and bare to devastation when you determined there was a better what if?
