I kicked Aaron under the table as I spoke to my father. “He stopped me on the street. He’s working in Foster on some horse ranch, shoveling manure. That’s all that happened, honest.” I didn’t stammer, but close to it. Aaron would pay for his inability to keep his trap shut.
“Maybe you should move home, dear?” my mother said, her voice worried.
“He’s paid his debt to society, Mom. He isn’t about to violate any laws, or he’ll end up back where he was. He just stopped me to say hello – end of story. I’m not moving home. Besides, Aaron lives upstairs from me now, so I’ll have protection. There’s always Marcus to consider.”
My father grunted and tore a chunk of Italian bread apart. He mopped up the thick red pasta sauce on his plate with the bread in a la zuppa fashion and looked around the table as we all watched.
“What’s the other hand for?” he grumbled.
“Bread,” I uttered, in unison with my mother.
Aaron broke into a grin and chuckled as he watched me follow suit with the crusty Italian bread. He joined in, and I was certain he’d rarely, if ever, eaten with an Italian family before.
Between dipping the bread, and eating it, I asked, “What made you change your mind about dinner with us, Aaron?” I still smarted from his tattletale DeGreico thing. Maybe a little torture would be good for him.
Shrewd eyes took in my features, and he glanced around the table. With a smirk he said, “I just couldn’t pass up a great Italian meal with you and your family. Besides, who wants to do paperwork? I get enough of that during the day.”
Such bullshit, I thought with a barely restrained grimace. Nonetheless, I smiled to hide the fact that I didn’t believe his line of crap for a second. My father caught the look. His bread stopped in midair.
“What is it you do for a living?” Dad asked with a cool stare, even though I’d told him. It was the same flat-eyed stare a shark has. When my dad gives it, well, you don’t wanna know what he’s about. Let’s just say it isn’t a trusting look.
With a serious and earnest face, Aaron told my father about his position with the Gaming Commission. He even outlined the job – with a lengthy explanation of the system in Rhode Island. It was such a well-played lie that even I was tempted to believe him.
Gosh, he wasn’t only professional wrestling material – he could have won an Oscar for that performance. Who’d have thought, eh? But then, he’d fooled me last summer, and it was only halfway through the gem investigation that the truth came out about what he did. I was sworn to secrecy and kept my mouth shut.
My mother jumped into the conversation every once in awhile with a question about gambling laws and such. When she did, I could see Aaron sum her up for a brief second as he answered the query. Dinner with my family was never going to happen again for Aaron. Dang, I should have known better than to issue the invite after he grilled me about Aunt Mafalda and her connections. Too late now.
Warm apple crisp topped with real whipped cream was the dessert du jour. I ate my usual – more than I should have. Leaning back in the chair, replete from the meal, I unbuttoned my jeans. Mom chuckled and Aaron stared at me with a wicked grin. My father smirked and grunted, that which passed for humor. I smiled, belched, and gazed around the table.
“Lavinia, excuse yourself.” My father’s dark glare was back as he waited patiently for the words.
My fingers in front of my mouth, I muttered, “Excuse my bad manners.” With that, I reached across the table for one more crumb on the dessert plate. A rap on the knuckles, from my father’s fork handle, was my reward for this wayward behavior.
“Lavinia, you’ve been hangin’ with those bad mannered cops again, haven’t you? They eat like slobs and have no manners to speak of.” His gruff voice boomed.
With a mental eye roll, I nodded and licked my fingertips. I glanced at Aaron’s wide grin, rose from the table to clear the plates, and loaded the dishwasher.
He turned to my dad, and they started talking about the pizza business. Oh, yeah, Aaron Grant was a fisherman of the worst kind. Whether he fooled my dad was another thing altogether.
Later, with a bag of goodies from dinner, and dessert, I headed toward the door. Aaron stepped close behind as we said our goodbyes to my parents. My mother had a hopeful gleam in her eye. I heaved a sigh of resignation. Dad shook Aaron’s hand and issued an invitation to join them again. Wow, I thought. Dad never invites anyone back for dinner.
My inquisitive nature fell into play more often than it should. I suspected there must be more to the invitation from my father. As unlikely as it seemed, Dad liked my tenant.
It was obvious Aaron relished the invite. He smiled broadly. I knew without a doubt that he had convinced everyone he was what he said he was. The fact that my dad thought he wasn’t a cop might have a lot to do with the return invitation.
Apprehension settled along my spine. I figured this would be the beginning of a potential marriage battle. If they only knew about Aaron’s true reasons for the interest in the family, my parents wouldn’t give him the time of day.
With a wave of my hand, I hustled out the door and made a beeline toward the car. The goody bag landed on the front seat.
I turned to Aaron and snapped, “You do realize you’re going to pay for the DeGreico thing, don’t you? There was no reason to shake my parents to their roots, you know. Did Lola tell you the whole story?”
His eyes widened at my change in attitude. He hemmed and hawed for a second and then stood there with his hands extended, palms up.
“If I’d known the response it would bring, I wouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn. Lola just said this guy had harassed you and that he might do it again.”
“Well, it was more than that. I’d appreciate you minding your own business in the future.”
A humorous sparkle entered his eyes. “Does this mean I can’t come to dinner anymore?”
A smile teetered on the edge of my lips, and I gave in.
“You can, as long as you keep your trap shut.”
“Wow, that hurt.” He held his hand against his heart.
“My parents are good people, and DeGreico scared the bejeepers out of them. It’s bad enough my father doesn’t give me a break about my job and living alone. You did see that, didn’t you?”
“I did. He’s just concerned for your welfare, though.”
“Oh, yeah, I get it. The guy thing.” I turned to Aaron as he wandered toward his truck. My hand rested on my hip.
“My father is the epitome of male chauvinism. Do you understand? I don’t need a babysitter, a hero on a white steed, or any of the rest of that shit. I’m a woman, quite capable of taking care of myself. Understand?”
“Yeah, I understand. Maybe better than you think.” Aaron backtracked toward me with a tense attitude.
I’d hit a nerve.
“What I understand is that those two people in there care deeply and worry about their only daughter. The same daughter caught up in the life of criminal justice. A life they don’t begin to comprehend. Try to understand that, will you? I think you give your father a bum rap.”
“Think what you want. I’ve lived with them a long time and of course I know they care. I also know how easily they’d run my life, if they could.” I sighed and shook my head. “Sorry about the tirade, but I know my parents and their conniving ways. You have no idea.”
He drew nearer and ran his hands along my arms in the chilly night air. Goose bumps layered my skin. His hands felt warm.
“I think you’re overreacting to the fact that I’ve been invited back. It’s no more than a simple extension of hospitality, I’m sure.
He didn’t know my father the way I did. He also wasn’t aware that if my father knew Aaron was FBI, there would be no further invitations for anything. Even Marcus walked a thin line with my dad.
This was a no win situation. I realized Aaron was blind to the ways of Italian parenting. To end the argument, I nodded in agreement and
forced a smile to my lips.
He smiled back and said, “I’ll see you later. I’m headed into Providence for a bit.” His lips brushed my cheek, and he was gone.
As I settled into the front seat of Lola’s car, I buckled the seat belt. I backed from the driveway after Aaron pulled away from the curb. My mind a muddle, I knew there would be hell to pay with my parents. They’d taken a liking to this monolithically proportioned guy, and it made me nervous.
Chapter 7
Sunlight waned as I covered the distance from my parents’ house to the deli. I returned the car keys to Lola and walked up the street to the house. A Dodge Ram pickup truck glided into the driveway just as I headed toward the door with my goody bag in hand. Marcus parked his truck and strolled toward me.
His walk neared a swagger, and he reminded me of a pirate ship captain. My imagination was running away with me again. It must be his craggy good looks that brought me around to this way of thinking.
A slow smile crossed features that hiked my pulse and warmed my heart.
“Is that a bag of food from your mother?”
I should have known he’d be interested in the food first.
“Yeah, are you starving? Didn’t you eat yet?” I chuckled.
“There wasn’t that much time today. What’s in the bag?” He reached over and uncurled the crimped edges of the brown bag. A rich aroma wafted out, and he turned to me with that wolfish grin.
“Come on in and I’ll feed you.”
“Dessert, too?” Dark brows waggled as the grin widened.
“Don’t tell me, you have to have dessert, too?”
“Yeah, but it depends on what you have to offer.”
I ignored the remark and unlocked the doors to the house. In the kitchen, I set out a plate while Marcus unloaded the goody bag. I rounded the counter toward him and he wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck.
Succumbing to his lips, my knees weakened and my mouth found his. To hell with dinner, I thought while my inner voice started its usual low-keyed scream of Beware, beware, he’s a cop. He’ll break your heart. I ignored the voice and let Marcus have free reign.
A while later, dinner still sat on the counter. As we wandered into the kitchen I was happy, Mr. Winky was happy, and Marcus looked pretty happy too. I chucked the food into the microwave, set the timer, and straddled a stool at the counter. Across from me, Marcus picked at the apple crisp and then glanced in my direction.
“What’s been happening with DeGreico?”
“Nothing, though everyone seems worried.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“My parents, Lola, you, and Aaron.”
“Your parents know he’s out of the looney bin?”
“Yep, and my mother thinks I should move home. Good grief, as if that would ever happen.”
“Want to tell me the whole story? I’m a good listener, you know.”
“Honestly, I’d rather not relive that particular experience, if you don’t mind.” My look pleaded with him to stop the interrogation.
He gave a small nod.
“Whatever you say, Vin. If you ever want to discuss it, let me know.”
This was way too easy. If I were a stupid, gullible sort I’d have believed that tripe. However, I know Marcus better than that.
“You’ve undoubtedly done a preliminary search for information on this guy, Marcus. Don’t play me, okay?”
“No search, no prelim, no nothing,” he said with a sincerity that I didn’t believe for a moment. “If you want to tell me, you will. If not, then don’t.”
Uncertain if this new attitude was real, I nodded and changed the subject.
“What’s the scoop on the racketeering charges against Antonio?”
A chuckle erupted from Marcus, and then he sobered. “It seems that Antonio, the businessman, has been shuffling more than his share of stolen goods. He’s into high-end merchandise, and, unbeknownst to him, the stupid ass dealt these goods to an undercover FBI agent, the same agent who lives upstairs.”
“Get outta here,” I exclaimed. “Aaron never said it was his investigation and that he was the agent involved with the arrest. It makes sense, though, now that I think about it.”
“He wasn’t. The police and FBI set up a sting with Aaron as the buyer. Antonio made the deal, and the whole thing was taped. The arrest wasn’t made at that time. The fool did another deal on the way to pick up your aunt. When they were leaving her house, they both got arrested.”
“That’s when my aunt shot her face off, right?”
“Right. She was a firebrand. Huffing and puffing like the old dragon she is.” Laughter rolled from Marcus.
Humor tickled the corners of my mouth and I managed a chuckle. Aunt Muffy had always been a dragon. Her candid attitude was legendary in our family and among friends. Much to my mother’s dismay, Muffy drew the worst of the bad boys and loved every minute of it. If this were the 1930s, my aunt would undoubtedly be considered a ‘Gun Moll’ for the mob. I smirked at the thought.
When Marcus caught the smirk he raised a brow in question, and I shared the thought. We got a good chuckle from it.
“What do you think will happen to Auntie?”
“She’ll probably get let off with a warning from the judge, and maybe some community service – if she keeps her dragon attitude to herself.”
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t turn the courtroom into a circus. Lord, I don’t know how I get dragged into these things.”
“District Attorney Kincaid might try to use her against Antonio, you know. It wouldn’t be the first time the DA’s played that particular game, tough bastard that he is.”
“She’ll have an attorney. I won’t allow her to be used by anyone. What do you know about Kincaid? He has a nasty reputation among the cops, but then, who doesn’t?”
“Kincaid is a climber.” Marcus turned an arched brow and a cold-eyed stare toward me. “You know what that means. He’ll step on anyone, anywhere, at anytime to get his foot up another rung on the ladder of success. He’s about as ruthless as they come. If I were you, I’d make sure Mafalda has the best attorney money can buy.”
“All I said was that I’d take her to the arraignment, not all the way to the Supreme Court, for God’s sake.” I ran a hand across my brow and flipped the mop of hair off my face.
He stretched his hand across the counter to run warm fingers over my hand, which then tightened into a squeeze.
I glanced into his warm gaze and smiled.
“Why did you have to protect the governor yesterday?” I asked. “Doesn’t he have a regular trooper to do that? Someone who’s assigned to him?”
“Yeah, the trooper was on vacation. He and his family went to Disney, and I caught the last day. It’s not unusual for that to happen, but it’s not a job I care for. Standing around looking like a boob, while the governor shakes hands and has dinner, is boring as hell. I even had to eat in the kitchen with the help.” Marcus stretched and yawned. “At least they were good company.” He smirked as he rose from the counter.
“Leaving already?”
“Yeah, tomorrow is another busy day. I’ll stay in touch, though.”
This was said as he ran his hands along my arms, up to my shoulders. A finger traced the neckline of my scoop-necked jersey. He pulled it open a tad and glanced down the front, a gleeful smile on his face.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Richmond.”
“Who says I can’t finish it?”
“Me.”
With that, he backed me into the bedroom again, toward the bed. He started to pull my jersey up when the phone jingled. I sighed. He sighed. And I answered the second ring.
“Vinnie speaking.”
A long silence met my greeting. I waited another few seconds, repeated my name, and then hung up. My fingers tapped the surface of the phone as I tried to figure out who called. Caller ID listed the caller as unknown.
“Who was it?” Marcus’s inquiring look me
t mine.
“Nobody, probably a wrong number.” I shrugged and moved toward Marcus.
A buzzing sound filtered through the material of Marcus’ trousers. I glanced down and then looked at him, a smirk on my face.
“Your pants are buzzing, Marcus Richmond.”
“Shit.” He withdrew the small unit and read the text message.
“What?”
“I have to report to headquarters. Sorry.” He grimaced.
“No problem, I knew you couldn’t finish what you started.” Laughter filled my voice, and I chuckled at his look. One point for me, and zero for Marcus.
We walked to the door as Marcus tucked his shirt into his uniform pants. After a lingering kiss that promised he’d be back again, I watched him leave and then locked up behind him.
The truck spun out of the driveway and I heard it roar up the street. Whoever paged him better have a good reason, I thought. I surmised Marcus wouldn’t be kind to anyone who yanked his chain.
As I extinguished the lights and wandered toward the bedroom, the phone jingled its tune again. The clock on the bedside table just climbed to ten o’clock and I wondered who’d call this late. Not another family emergency, I prayed.
“Vinnie speaking,” I said on a sigh.
Silence met my words once again. I disconnected the call and checked the phone for the caller’s number. The read-out showed unknown, which left me a bit annoyed. I slipped the phone into the cradle, set up the coffee pot for the morning, and headed to bed. One dead-air call was fine, but two in a row could be more than coincidence.
The house was locked up, though I hadn’t heard Aaron return. I knew with his stealthy maneuvering I wouldn’t hear anything but his truck. With that realization, I snuggled under the covers and awaited sleep. To toss and turn all night was not my idea of a good time.
An hour later, I still lay wide-awake, the covers in a jumbled mess. Cripes, I needed to be clear-headed for class or the cops would harangue the daylights out of me. It isn’t easy to stay one step ahead of people who work on the streets everyday. Earlier, I’d considered how I would manage to get to class without my car. I couldn’t continue to borrow Lola’s, though she didn’t mind. A sigh escaped me as I thought of the students again.
Dirty Trouble Page 6