by Cindy Skaggs
“Stop interrupting. The only way I’d ever be free was if Nick was gone, and while Logan might not understand why and how you made it happen, I do. I’m free because of you. You risked a lot, but the reward was worth it.”
“And does Logan share your magnanimous and totally unwarranted opinion?”
Sofia pulled her into a hug, the rare show of emotion catching her off guard. Before she could prepare, her much shorter frame was swallowed in Sofia’s embrace. Sofia was fierce in everything she did, in everyone she loved, and she hugged just as fiercely, holding tight. “Logan doesn’t hate you.”
Relief washed away a fraction of the guilt she harbored. She hadn’t realized until this moment how much she feared she’d lost her best friend, especially now that Sofia was marrying a Fed. When she pulled away, she gathered her tattered emotions together under her iron control. “Since he doesn’t hate me, do I get to stay for the stir-fry chicken and magically altered broccoli?”
“Always.” Understanding Vicki’s need, Sofia let her go, and then walked back around to the cutting board. “You didn’t ask the obvious question.”
“I try never to do, be, or ask the obvious.”
Sofia tossed the cubed chicken into a clean bowl. “In which case, I’ll answer the obvious question. We haven’t set the date, but I’m thinking early June.”
“Always a good time for a wedding.” Vicki shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair. “I’ll keep my calendar clear.”
“Good, because you’re my maid of honor.”
The pause was nearly imperceptible as pieces of her soul mended. “Honey, as nice as it is to be asked, I’m the sister of your ex-husband. And the daughter of a mob boss. I can’t think of a less appropriate choice for a Fed wedding.”
“It’s not a Fed wedding. It’s my wedding.”
“And Logan’s.”
“You’re my best friend and the obvious choice.”
After everything, Sofia still thought of her as a best friend. Relief helped ease the fear that had gripped her since seeing Manny with his coat flapping in the wind. “There’s the word again. ‘Obvious.’” She struggled to keep a sarcastic edge to her voice, but it was hard to hide the pain and the joy, relief and excitement, all of which threatened to drown her fear and common sense. Vicki wasn’t in a safe place, and any time spent with Sofia endangered her. “I’ve already worn the obligatory ugly bridesmaid dress.”
“You’ll wear it again. And like it,” Sofia said in a stern mom tone.
She wasn’t convinced. She nodded toward the stairs. “What does law-and-order have to say about your choice?”
“The groom doesn’t have any say in the matter.”
“Translation, he’s opposed.”
“He honestly doesn’t care.” Sofia gestured with a fistful of stir-fry. “If I didn’t have raw chicken in my hand, I’d come over there and shake some sense into you. I choose you, so unless you want to go into hiding over something this stupid, you don’t have a choice.”
“I always have a choice,” she said imperiously.
Sofia shook her head. “I’m not as malleable as I used to be. I’ll hunt you down.”
Her statement was the third time today someone had threatened to hunt her down. Maybe her days of hiding were over. Ready or not. “I liked you better as the ice queen.”
“Is that why you became her?” Sofia asked softly.
“Perceptive, aren’t you?” Vicki wasn’t made of ice—she was simply isolated. She cleared her throat to unstick the knot. “I regret that you had to become like ice to survive. It’s my fault.” Deep breath. In with good air, out with the garbage. “I’m terrified that being around me will bring it all back.” Vicki was born under a dark cloud, and Sofia deserved a normal, happy, suburban life.
“I’m never going back,” Sofia promised. “And Logan wouldn’t let me. Please, please, please be happy for me.”
“Oh God, I am.” She laughed through the tears that wanted loose. “I am so happy, so proud, so very, very jealous.”
“Jealous? You have a crush on Logan?” Sofia teased. “We haven’t crushed on the same man since freshman year.”
“I’m pretty sure he wasn’t a man, but a boy. What was his name?”
“Keith or Kyle or something like that.”
“No.” Vicki laughed at the memory of a gangly boy from history class. “Peter Morgan.”
“Like the rum, but not as strong.” Sofia’s bright laughter warmed the kitchen. “So what are you jealous of, my friend?”
Destiny had charged Vicki with a heavy burden, and days like today, it seemed unending. “I’m jealous of…” The truth tripped off her tongue. “Happiness. You deserve it.”
“So you’ll be my bridesmaid.”
“You’re my best friend. How can I resist?” Vicki muttered. “It’s settled, then. I’ll drink your champagne and wear the ugly dress of your choice, but in return, I get to make the worst maid of honor speech in the history of weddings.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Sofia looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Remember my dress for our first spring formal? I’m thinking something like that, but fuchsia. Lots of ruffles.”
“Honey, I don’t scare.” But the week had certainly taken a chunk out of her dauntless demeanor. So far, she’d had one client fire her in a snit, her crazy Uncle Manny showed up, she had a newspaper article about a dead hypnotherapist and an address to a sleazy club in a bad part of town, and no idea how it was all linked. Now Sofia had extended an olive branch the size of Manhattan and somehow convinced her to play maid of honor like she wasn’t the worst choice on the planet. Plus Blake, whom she still didn’t know how to categorize. Any more surprises and she might need a trip to a sanitarium.
Good thing she was an experienced practitioner of self-hypnosis. Vicki straightened and gave her snarky self a mental shake. What she needed was a few minutes alone to get pull her fraying ends together. “Since I’m wearing fuchsia, I’m helping myself to your exceptional wine collection.”
“You know where it is.” Sofia gestured to the wine closet on the other side of the pantry. “Bring four glasses.”
Once out of sight, she rubbed the ache in her temple. The more she thought about the events and the clues, or lack thereof, the more her head ached. She couldn’t afford another migraine; the last one had taken her out of commission for too long. Five minutes of self-hypnosis, or even a few minutes of meditation, and she’d face whatever or whomever the day tossed her way, but right now, she desperately needed a little peace.
She took a detour to the powder room and splashed cool water on her face. The buzz from the scotch had faded, leaving her shaky and uncertain. It had been less than six hours since she’d woken in the garage apartment, but it felt like an eternity. The reflection in the mirror was pale and pasty. Not her best look. She finger-combed her hair and ran a little water through it to smooth the frizzes. She wanted to reapply makeup, but didn’t have a clue where she’d dropped her bag when Sofia had pulled her into the kitchen.
On the way out, she pulled off her boots and socks and stacked them in the mudroom. Human again, or so it felt, like this little moment to herself was exorcising the demons of the past few days. She walked across the tile floor to the aboveground wine cellar. The cool room felt like heaven on achy feet. She wiggled her cramped toes. She loved heels and boots and all things winter, but they were torture on her feet. And she hadn’t taken time for herself since she’d woken up with Manny at her front door.
She took the moment now, inhaled a couple deep-cleansing breaths, and refocused her mind. The ache in her head receded. It wasn’t gone, but diminished enough for her to think straight. As meditation spaces went, this one was stellar. Dark walls, dim lights, cool floor underfoot. If anything said pampering, it was a wine cellar, because it was decadent and rare and quiet as a tomb. And if atmosphere wasn’t enough—and it was—the pretty walls were lined with bottles of wine whose price went from reasonable to o
uch! “What goes with chicken stir-fry?” she mumbled to herself.
“Try the gewürztraminer on the second shelf.” Blake’s lower-than-normal voice, almost a whisper and so close behind her, vibrated through her body and warmed the cool room, jump-starting her heart.
Chapter Seven
Blake stepped closer and shut the door behind him. She smelled of something sweet and spicy. Exotic. Exactly the way she should smell. Her skin was warm and silky enough to turn his brain to an ugly gray sponge. Victoria turned, took a surprised step back, and the action brought his attention to the red toes peeking from the hem of her jeans.
Bare feet. One step closer to naked. He glanced down at her silver toe rings, and his gut clenched.
She reached up with her free hand and trailed a long red nail along his forearm, her silver bracelets dangling against his wrist. “Looking for me?”
The sound of her voice was slow and sultry and a little rough. His tongue turned to jerky in his mouth. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Why don’t you get the wine?” She reached overhead and grabbed four wineglasses, drawing his eyes to her chest. “And I’ll get the glasses.”
She pushed past in a vibrant blur and a scent so soft it was like a whisper. She was gone before he untangled his tongue. Smiling, he reached down to grab the wine. The woman definitely made things interesting.
Dinner conversation was off topic until Sofia took Eli off to bed. They cleared the table while she was gone and cleaned up the kitchen. It was weird to see his friend domesticated, although he’d gotten a glimpse at Christmas. The most cooking Logan typically did was ordering takeout, but he had the dishwasher running before Sofia came back down.
“Coffee?” Sofia offered. “Or more wine?”
Victoria lifted her glass for more. When wine and coffee were refilled all around, they found themselves back at the kitchen table, their attitude all business. Blake had already given Logan the knife to take to the lab. It was a favor of epic proportions to keep it off the books, but Logan owed him after the incident last summer. While Logan had been on the run with Sofia, Blake had been Logan’s access to bureau resources. Logan might want to keep his nose out of it, but he didn’t have a choice.
Victoria took a sip of wine and retold them about her day from hell.
“Wait,” Sofia said. She set her coffee cup on the wood table. “Uncle Manny isn’t a Calvetti, right? He was your mother’s uncle. So what does he have to do with any of this?”
“He’s a—” Victoria stiffened as if she realized she was surrounded by law enforcement.
“He’s a hit man,” Blake finished for her.
Sofia stared at him, her dark eyes round. “Sweet Uncle Manny, who bought out the toy store when Eli was born, is a hit man?”
“Long time.” Logan took a drink. “How did you not know?”
She shrugged. “It didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t a Calvetti by blood. He’s as old as dirt. It never occurred to me that he’d be a mobster. And we really only saw him at holidays.”
Victoria took a sip of wine, but offered nothing in regard to Manny.
He shook his head. After he’d realized Victoria was a mobster’s daughter, after she had broken up with him, he’d made it his job to find out everything about her, and once he’d joined the force, he’d had access to more information. “Did you know Nick’s mother was from a mob family?”
Sofia glanced at Victoria, who kept her mouth firmly shut. “No.”
“Oh, yeah, scuttlebutt is, she’d been engaged to marry someone else when her father traded her to Calvetti senior as part of a merger.”
“Well, that’s just—”
“Sick,” Victoria said through gritted teeth. “Twisted and archaic and sick. They hated each other as far back as I can remember. Yelling, angry fits, threats, crying, but she damn well better be the perfect wife in public. I always figured Nick avoided a similar fate by marrying you,” she said, finally looking at Sofia. “He wanted someone outside the life.”
“Probably thought I’d be more malleable,” Sofia admitted.
Victoria nodded. “I’m sorry.”
The two women shared a look, and then Sofia reached across and grabbed Victoria’s hand. “Water under the bridge.”
Victoria took a deep breath. “I don’t know if arranged marriages were the thing or just something sick between those two bastards, but Manny never liked it. It merged the two families, and when Manny’s brother died, my father became the head of both families.”
“So Manny was stuck.”
He took a drink to keep from interfering. Now that Victoria was talking, he didn’t want to interrupt. She’d say more to her best friend than she would to him.
“Manny could have walked, but he stayed. To protect my mother, I think. The pregnancy while I was away at college never made sense. Did my father force her? Because I can’t think of a scenario where she went willingly to his bed.” Victoria straightened her shoulders. “But water under the bridge, as you say.”
“But if your mother was Manny’s favorite niece, he wouldn’t kill you, right?”
Victoria rubbed absently at her temples. “I can’t figure out why he was there. Or why he sent me to Blake’s place.”
“Do you have a way to contact him?” Logan asked.
She shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since—” She cut off abruptly. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Well, it’s just one more mystery.” Sofia stood, refilled her coffee, and came back to the table. “Let’s have the rest of it.”
Victoria repeated her story from the beginning, stopping occasionally to take a sip from the wineglass. She paused briefly when she got to the way she’d found her house today, and skipped the cat entirely. Logan glanced at him. Yeah, he’d noticed the oversight, and it ate at him, because of all the things happening to Victoria—and none of them were good, including and especially her little trip to his club—the thing hurting her most was the loss of a stray cat.
When Victoria finished, she got up, rinsed her wineglass, and refilled it with water. No one spoke. Finally, Sofia rose and wrapped Victoria in a one-armed hug. “How does it feel?”
“What? My head? Hurts.”
Sofia gave her another squeeze. “The head, too, but I was really wondering, how does it feel to be a mere mortal flying without a net?”
“Who says I don’t have a net?”
“You’re here.”
Logan cleared the few remaining glasses while the women spoke softly in the kitchen. Blake remembered his promise to Victoria and leaned over the table. “When the lab is finished with the knife, I need it back.”
“It’s evidence,” Logan answered.
“It doesn’t exist. There’s no chain of evidence, no reported crime. It stays between us. I promised Victoria the knife.”
“Why would you promise that?”
What happened to the cat diminished Victoria, stealing her shine and her substance, her generally sassiness. “If you had seen her face, you’d give her the knife.”
“Man, tell me you’re not going there. That woman is—”
“Don’t,” Blake said, his voice firm. He ran a hand through his hair. The situation with Victoria was out of character for him. Women didn’t jack with his focus, but Victoria altered his priorities, and he couldn’t walk away if his life depending on it, which it might. “I don’t want to have to punch one of my best friends, but I will.”
Logan pulled out a chair and sat next to Blake. “Keep your eye on the prize, man. You’re sitting on two-plus years of undercover work. You’re one small step from proving Sully is running most of the heroin in town. It’s one small step from there to following the money trail to the bigger fish. It’s the bust you’ve wanted all your life. Don’t blow it over a woman.”
“You mean, don’t blow it over a Calvetti.”
“Yeah,” Logan said. He motioned for Blake to follow him outside, away from the women. “That’s exactly what I mean. The mob
princess is charming. I get the attraction, but she orchestrated the kidnapping of her nephew. When she gets whatever she wants from you—and make no mistake, she wants something—she’ll dump your ass and you’ll have to deal with the blowback to your career.”
“Why are you busting my chops on this?”
“Because there’s right and wrong and then there’s Vicki Calvetti. The family is pure evil.”
“She’s not her family.” Logan judged Vicki on the way her and her family had damaged Sofia. “Quit laying blame. Your fiancée doesn’t.”
“Sofia has a blind spot when it comes to the mob princess. The same blind spot you seem to have. I don’t get it.”
If being with Victoria was merely a physical attraction, Blake could joke about it and move on, but Victoria meant more to him than the chemistry flowing like a river between them. He walked to the deck railing, anger and understanding running conflict through his brain. The fact that he and Logan were friends was one of those rare mysteries in life. They had little in common outside of a drive for justice. Logan lived in a world of black and white while Blake lived in the gray. He embraced the moral flexibility of undercover work, because the ends justified the means. Getting drugs off the street mattered more than the rule book.
“What did you tell me when you asked me to introduce you to Stiles, to recommend you for the task force?”
Blake dropped his head back to stare at the night sky. “That nailing Patrick Sullivan was my number one priority. Nothing would get in the way.”
“The mob princess is a distraction. Definitely gets in the way.”
Logan was right about the score, but fully wrong about Victoria. He glanced through the kitchen window, but she wasn’t there. Heart racing, he slipped back into the house. “Where is she?”
Sofia smiled. “Eli came down. Wanted Aunt Vicki to read him a story, which will give me time to get the guest room ready.”
Logan frowned. They’d discussed it earlier, and Logan wanted Victoria away from his new family. Blake understood, but if Logan said it to Sofia, she’d have his ass. Blake interceded before his friend dug himself a hole with his new fiancée. “She’s not staying.”