Devil You Know

by L. A. Fiore

  My childhood meals were pretty terrible. I had learned a lot since, not that I had any intention of sharing my culinary skills with Damian.

  Damian replied, “No. The last meal I had from her was in high school.”

  “She was a pretty dreadful cook, but she was persistent, was determined to take care of you…and Cam.”

  My jaw hit the pavement. Mother—she was called that when I was displeased—was rehashing the past. I wasn’t prepared to stroll down memory lane. I looked up to determine which building was higher so I could toss myself off it. Or better yet toss her.

  “Get her to make you dinner. She cooks almost as well as she draws.”

  “I will. Thank you for the tip.”

  “Now that you are home don’t be a stranger. I’ll make cookies, I know how much you love my butter cookies.”

  “Yes, unlike the ones Thea burnt past all recognition.” He then took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’d like that.”

  Fiend! He waited fourteen years to take his shot at the cookie disaster of 2003. He just made my list. No cookies for him! Especially since he just kissed my mother’s hand, Mr. Charming who turned into a cyborg when we were alone. Kimber offered hers too, though he didn’t kiss it, and her crestfallen look pulled a smug grin from me. They walked away all flustered and I just stared at him. Oh, I’d feed him. There was that rat poison buried in the back of the cabinet under the sink.

  “What the hell was that? You barely speak to me but you fawn all over my mom.”

  “She’s your mom.”

  “So.”

  That was the only explanation he felt the situation called for because he started for his car. I followed after him, but it wasn’t until we were driving back to my apartment that I said, “I’m sure you don’t really want dinner.”

  “Dinner would be good.” He glanced over at me. “Tonight works.”

  He was going to be in my apartment with me. I didn’t see good things coming from this, but to him I said, “Tonight it is then.”

  Damian was just finishing his stew, and it was a damn fine stew if I did say so myself; he thought so too because he had three helpings. I served it with warm crusty French bread, which he didn’t eat, and a salad that he devoured. All through dinner I barely ate because I was too busy watching him. He was in my apartment. I liked seeing him in my apartment.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “I’ll get it.” I dragged my feet to the door because I had been contemplating jumping him and seeing what happened. “It’s just my neighbor.”

  Damian stood. “Check first.”

  It was Mrs. Cooke, looking into the peephole. I pulled the door open and she didn’t even wait to be invited in. Breezing into my living room like she owned it, her attention going right to Damian. I’d bet money my mother called her. And I’m guessing by the look on her face she agreed with whatever my mom had said about him.

  “I’m Miranda Cooke. And you are?” I had never mentioned Damian to her because by the time she came into my life, he had been placed firmly in the box.

  He got her first name and on first meeting. I had to wait a few weeks and still I felt more comfortable calling her Mrs. Cooke, and Damian, like he had with my mom, turned on the charm. He reached for her hand and said in a voice that was the softest I’d ever heard come out of his mouth, even gentler than the one he had given my mom earlier, “Damian Tate. A pleasure.”

  First with my mom and now with my seventy-year-old neighbor he was flirting and yet he conserved his words around me, only gifting me a few in every conversation, which had me coveting the ones he did say like they were a rare gemstone. I was calling Anton later and requesting a replacement.

  “Thea failed to mention how handsome you are.”

  I hadn’t mentioned him at all, my mother had and knowing my mother she not only mentioned how handsome he was, she had probably gone into detail. I snorted again then reached for a cookie and shoved it in my face so I didn’t say something I might later regret.

  Damian gestured to the sofa and Mrs. Cooke sat like she was wearing one of those bustle skirts, just on the edge of the sofa all dainty and ladylike. I couldn’t believe I was being forced to watch this and what was worse, I was jealous. I was jealous of my senior citizen neighbor. I was pathetic.

  “What did Thea make you for dinner?”

  “Beef stew.”

  “Oh, her beef stew is delicious. Nearly as good as her chicken potpie.”

  Damian glanced at me before he said, “I’ll have to get her to make that for me next.”

  My mouth opened, chewed-up cookie may have fallen out, but I didn’t care. He was speaking in full sentences. There was even a sexy lilt of humor in his tone. I reached for the bottle of wine and poured myself a glass that could rival the one Brody had poured himself in the first Jaws movie. Then I glared over the rim at my neighbor and bodyguard as I drank it.

  “Have you had dessert?” Mrs. Cooke asked, and she would because she had a sweet tooth that rivaled my own.

  “Not yet. Thea was just putting on the coffee.”

  Oh was I? Funny, he didn’t mention wanting coffee or dessert.

  “Would you mind making it decaf, Thea?”

  I resisted the urge to slam my glass down on the table and stood, muttering, “Not at all. It would be my pleasure.”

  I may have banged a cabinet or two but they didn’t hear me because they were talking. I had spent the past two hours prying words from the man and now he had verbal diarrhea. I hated my life. And I was particularly irritable because as the cyborg stuffed his face with my stew, I had been entertaining thoughts of ripping his clothes off. I needed to cool down so I opened the freezer and stuck my head in.

  “What on earth are you doing, Thea?”

  “I read once if you open the freezer really quickly you can catch sight of the creatures that live inside it.”

  She gave me that tone, the one that worried if I was mentally okay. I got that tone from her a lot. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  Damian on the other hand knew exactly what I was doing because he looked downright edible.

  “Did you see one?” he asked.

  “Not in a long time.”

  His eyes went dark. “Really?”

  We weren’t talking about freezer creatures, we were talking about cocks, so I replied, “No, but I really want to.”

  He slid his gaze over my body and lingered a second longer on my breasts. “It’s all about timing.”

  I moaned.

  “Can you draw me a picture of these creatures? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

  And at her innocent comment, Damian and I broke out into laughter.

  I can’t believe I have to wear this,” Cam said for the seventh time as he adjusted his collar.

  “It’s a tux, not chain mail. Deal.”

  “I don’t want to deal.”

  I glanced over at Anton. “It’s like he’s three.”

  We were in Anton’s Bentley on the way to Uncle Tim’s gala. Cam, Anton and Damian were all dressed in tuxedos. I’d lost the ability to speak when Damian arrived earlier. Even now I kept sneaking glances at him through my lowered lashes.

  “Uncle Tim picked up Ma?” Cam asked.

  “Yeah, but she’s excited for the ride home in this baby.”

  Anton grinned. “She’s already called with the directions Silas should follow to get her there. It’s definitely the long cut.”

  Cam laughed. “That sounds like Ma.”

  Damian was next to me and his large body dwarfed mine on the super comfy leather seats. I had never seen him in a tux and now thought he should wear one at least once a week. “You look great. That’s a good look on you.”

  Those pale eyes moved slowly down my body and were a shade darker when they returned to my face. “So do you.”

  Three words should not make a person want to spontaneously combust but when those words were issued from a man who rarely used them;
yeah, my blood was boiling in my veins.

  We pulled up in front of the swanky hotel off Central Park. Damian climbed out first and I swear it was like watching the Secret Service. All he was missing was that thing in his ear. When I was standing next to him at the curb, he tucked my hand through his arm. There was a part of me that let myself have a girlie moment over his actions even knowing they were more protective in nature than romantic. I did have a moment’s pause over how serious he was being. He wasn’t one for dramatics and so I had to believe there was more I didn’t know that warranted such caution and that was a thoroughly unnerving thought.

  We headed inside. I was wearing four-inch spiked heels and had piled my hair on the top of my head, which gave me a few more inches, and I still felt petite next to the giants I was walking in with. The gala was in one of the larger ballrooms that was decked out in cloth covered tables, arrangements of red and white roses in modern black vases and several bars were set up around the room with people milling around them. The room was nearly packed and to see the turnout of support for Uncle Tim was heartwarming.

  Damian lowered his head when he asked, “Champagne?”

  “Please.”

  “I’ll help you,” Cam said as the two walked to the nearest bar.

  “You look beautiful tonight,” Anton said when we were alone.

  I was wearing my favorite black sheath dress. It was simple, but hugged my figure in all the right spots. It was definitely the one dress in my closet that never failed to make me feel sexy.

  “Thank you. So do you. If the people knew the well-dressed you lounged around in ripped-up sweats and dripped pizza on your tees, they’d never believe it.”

  “Or that a woman who looks as stunning as you do tonight could belch out the alphabet.”

  “I only did that once.”

  “Once was enough.”

  He dared me, but it had been gross...fun too, in a disgusting way. “Do you see Mom and the man of the hour?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you surprised by the turn out?”

  “Not really. He’s got just as many friends on the force as he does on the other side of things. I’m more surprised that so many from both sides came tonight.”

  It was true Uncle Tim had many unsavory people as clients. That was part of the reason Anton agreed to join us for the gala because with his background he could have been a strike against a man looking for a seat in the Senate, but Uncle Tim had a very colorful following. Anton’s presence wouldn’t even turn a head. Well, he’d turn the ladies’ heads but that was nothing new. And still the idea of cops and gangsters in the same room made me nervous.

  “You don’t think there will be trouble, do you?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I hadn’t meant to sigh, but I did.

  “There’s Rosalie.”

  Mom arrived with Uncle Tim. She looked beautiful in the silver silk gown she wore, but there was sadness coming from her, not something most would pick up on. She was thinking about Dad.

  “Your mother is a beautiful woman, more so when she’s not sad.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me that Anton would pick up on Mom’s mood so easily, but still it did. “I love you, Anton.”

  That surprised him, but surprise shifted to love. “The feeling is mutual.”

  Damian and Cam returned just as Mom and Uncle Tim joined our little group. There were handshakes and kisses before Uncle Tim said, “Thank you for coming.”

  He looked nervous, so I reached for his hand and squeezed. “We wouldn’t have missed it.”

  Damian handed Mom a glass of champagne and me the other.

  “You look beautiful, Ma.”

  Mom flashed Cam a smile. “This old thing.”

  I happened to know that ‘old thing’ had set Dad back a few thousand dollars.

  Uncle Tim scanned the room. “It’s a good turn out.”

  “Are you surprised?” Mom asked.

  “A little bit.”

  “That’s nonsense. Someone is waving you over or she’s having a seizure.” Mom gestured to the tall woman near the podium.

  “It’s time. Ready?”

  “Yes.” Mom spoke for us all as we joined the woman at the podium. I was happy to see that Anton and Damian didn’t stay back. They shouldn’t have because they were family too. Flashes from cameras went off around the room as Uncle Tim took his place behind the microphone.

  The voices hushed as he spoke. “I lost my oldest and dearest friend two years ago. His family is here with me tonight as I announce my intention of running for Senate for the fine state of New York.”

  Applause broke out as more camera flashes went off. This was Uncle Tim’s moment and how I wished Dad were here.

  Later in the evening there was dancing and you could have knocked me over with a feather when Damian requested a dance. We hadn’t gone to prom, what we had done was so much better—his apartment, a scary movie, takeout and clothes optional—so we had never slow danced. It was a crime we had never slow danced because slow dancing with him was incredible.

  We were dancing so it was okay for me to rest my cheek on his chest and inhale his scent—a scent that had haunted me. During the harder parts of our separation I had contacted Yankee Candle hoping they could take his scent from a t-shirt of his I had and turn it into a candle. My very own Damian Tate scented candle. It was a surprise that a paddy wagon didn’t come for me after making that request, even more of a surprise to learn I wasn’t the first one to ask that of them.

  I ran my hand down his back, a back that was different from the one I had touched, tasted and explored every inch of.

  Lifting my eyes to him, I asked, “What was it like over there?”

  His chin dipped and his jaw clenched as the muscles under my touch turned rigid. “The very worst of humanity and the very best.”

  “You don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t talk about it.”

  “I wrote to you.”

  If I thought his muscles were rigid before, they were like rock now and his inhale sounded painful.

  “You told me not to, but I did. Every day, still do. Some were just telling you what I was doing or what I had to eat that day and others…I never mailed them. I have them, all of them.”

  His voice broke on just one word. “Why?”

  “The Thanksgiving you told me you were leaving, I prayed for the first time in a long time. I asked that you be kept safe. I wanted that so badly I was willing to let go of the dream of us together. And I did let it go, but I couldn’t let go of you because you own my heart, you have since I was seventeen, so I wrote letters you wouldn’t ever read just to feel closer to you.”

  I couldn’t really describe his expression. It was harsh and pained and yet beautiful. “I came back for you.”

  I stopped moving, my mouth opened but no words came out.

  “That night at the bar, when you were drunk. I waited to return to duty because I wanted to ask you to come back to North Carolina with me.”

  Tears filled my eyes. It hadn’t been just a hook up that night. He had wanted forever too. “But you didn’t.”

  “You were drunk, I was going to wait until the morning and then I got called back for duty.” There was something else he wanted to say, but seemed to think better of it. It was just as well because I was still reeling from what he had said.

  “I would have gone back with you.”

  He pressed my face to his chest, holding me so close I could hear the strong, uneven beat of his heart. “I lied before. I’m here to help Cam, to find out what happened to the man who was like a father to me, but I resigned my commission and came home for you.”

  He had come back for me. That night so long ago I had been a drunken fool, but even I remembered every word we spoke. He had been called away, but why hadn’t he tried asking me again? Even being puzzled over that, I replayed Damian’s soft confession over and over in my head. I got nothing done, lost huge hunks of
time, because maybe we were still a we; maybe we were finally at a place to pick up where we had left off. That thought made me deliriously happy.

  My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten today. I couldn’t help the smile because only thoughts of Damian could distract me from food. It was too late to make something. I could order takeout. I wondered what Mrs. Cooke was doing about dinner. She cooked like a goddess. It was dinnertime. I could invite myself over. And if she hadn’t made dinner we could get takeout together. Stepping into the hall, I noticed immediately that her door was ajar. She often walked down the hall to visit her friend Betty and left her door propped open.

  “Mrs. Cooke?” I called as I pushed open the door. I wasn’t prepared to find her motionless on the floor. “Mrs. Cooke!” I ran over and dropped down next to her. I felt for a pulse and nearly wept when I found one. I reached for my phone and called 911 and then I called Damian.

  “Thea.”

  I sounded a little hysterical when I said, “Mrs. Cooke. I’ve called an ambulance. She’s unconscious. It looks like she fell.”

  “Go with her in the ambulance. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Okay.”

  The paramedics arrived and not even ten minutes later they were loading her into the back of the ambulance. By the time we reached the emergency room of Mount Sinai, Damian was already waiting. She was wheeled to the back as Damian joined me at the nurse’s station.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I spent the day working and decided to invite myself over to her place for dinner and saw that her door was ajar. I thought maybe she was down at her friend’s place, but when I entered I saw her on the floor.”

  I had seen Damian intense, but I had never seen him scary. He looked scary in that moment. He reached for his phone and stepped away from me while he spoke. I settled in a chair but my thoughts were on Mrs. Cooke. She didn’t have family. We were her family. I should call my mom, but this was the hospital where Dad had been brought, where he had died. I didn’t want to put her through those memories unless I had to. Damian joined me in the waiting room when he finished his call. He took the seat next to me and held my hand while we waited. About an hour later the doctor appeared.