Flesh and Blood (Dixie Mafia Series Book 1)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “So, you enjoyed yourself tonight?”

  “Yes, I loved every second of it.” She realized, with a pang, it was the best date she’d ever had. “Did you?”

  Something sad flitted through his eyes for a moment. “I did. Today was fun.” He said the word as if he’d never heard it before.

  “And that’s good, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Belle got the impression he wasn’t so sure. Dix never talked about his past much, other than the one story about his father. Belle wanted to know more about him, about his life—his wife.

  Just as she was about to pry, Ace announced they were about to land, so they buckled their seatbelts.

  But Belle wasn’t giving up. They’d be having a talk soon.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Let me buy you dinner. I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

  Belle rolled her eyes. While she’d run errands around town, Rebel had spent the day texting and talking to Mary Cobb, persuading her to go out on a date with him. She wondered if Brax was making the same overtures, since they’d both been taken with Mary at the party.

  They’d just pulled up to her apartment, and she walked to the door while he charmed a date out of Mary.

  “Come on, darlin’. I promise we’ll have a good time.”

  Belle snickered at the wheedling tone in his voice. Lately, she’d been in a disgustingly good mood—a feat, considering someone had tried to kidnap her, and she’d fallen in with the mob.

  Ever since the night they’d seen Phantom of the Opera together, things between her and Dix had been different. They’d settled into a new pattern. Dix worked during the day, and Belle looked for jobs, but the pace wasn’t frantic anymore. Every evening, they ate dinner together then they made love. It was emotional, sensual sex—and it meant something, but she didn’t know what exactly. Belle had never spent the night, but they’d come close after a few hours of exhaustive, but delicious lovemaking. She’d scooted out the door, minutes before his household staff started working.

  In a few weeks, their deal would be over. The thought made her sad. Belle wondered if he’d renew the arrangement. And would she go along with it?

  Don’t think about it now. Belle crossed to the door and fit her key into the lock, but it swung open on its own.

  Strange.

  She reached for the lamp, but it wasn’t there. As she stepped into the room, glass crunched beneath her feet.

  Rebel stood behind her, chattering on the phone, oblivious.

  Belle switched the flashlight app on her phone on, then scanned the room. The lamp lay busted into smithereens at her feet. The sofa had been gutted, and wads of stuffing lay over all the floor.

  Shut your mouth, bitch was scrawled on the wall behind it.

  “What the fuck?” Rebel made his apologies to Mary and ended the phone call.

  Belle clutched the wall for support. Her head was spinning.

  Oh, God. Quaxo. He’d been all alone in the apartment when someone broke in.

  “Quaxo!” Belle stepped further inside.

  “No, ma’am. We gotta get the fuck on out of here.” Rebel grasped her around the waist before she could rush in. He slammed the door shut and dragged her away.

  “Let me go. I have to find him.” She wriggled in his grasp, but he kept her feet off the ground. “Quaxo!”

  “I’ll look for your cat, but first I’m takin’ you to Dix.”

  Rebel tossed her into the SUV, hit the child lock, and then floored it out of the parking lot.

  Belle bit her thumbnail. Tears dribbled down her cheeks, splattering her hand.

  Belle’s entire life had been a study in loss—her father, her mother, her home growing up. Then her job, and now some bastard had taken away her apartment, violated the last refuge she had left. She couldn’t lose Quaxo, too.

  ***

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Dix seized Rebel by the shirt and hauled him to his feet.

  “Sir, I—”

  Dix couldn’t listen to reason at the moment. Belle’s apartment was a disaster area— the television was smashed, and every picture lay on the floor, the glass shattered.

  What if she’d been here when the asshole broke in?

  When she’d arrived at his place an hour ago, Belle had been shivering and crying, nearly inarticulate in her grief. Vick had taken Belle upstairs to a guest room while Dix had formed a posse with Ten and Beauregard to check out her place.

  And Dix wasn’t in the mood for excuses.

  “Shut the fuck up. You had one simple job—keep her safe. Does this look safe to you?” Right now, he wasn’t sure who he was more upset with, himself or Reb. He never should’ve entrusted Red’s care to a soldier.

  His eyes widened. “Yes, I know, but—”

  “She could’ve died.”

  Dix punched him in the face, splitting Reb’s lip.

  “Don’t be melodramatic, she’s fine. Instead of hurtin’ her, the man ripped up her shit. It don’t make no sense.” Byron had done a thorough inspection of the apartment, and he was frowning.

  “Yeah, nothin’ happened to her. She’s okay.” Blood spattered down Reb’s face, staining his mouth, chin, and shirt.

  Dix pulled back his fist again, but Byron grabbed his arm.

  “As much as I’d like to watch you pound on Reb, I gotta break this up. We got a mystery to solve.”

  Dix sucked in a breath as he fought for composure. Belle had been threatened, and he’d lost it, which left him with an uncomfortable and undeniable truth—she mattered to him. Dix hadn’t cared for a woman since his wife died, but he’d gone and let Belle in.

  Fuck.

  He released Reb, who made a beeline for the door.

  “This feels personal, like a temper tantrum.” Byron walked into the bedroom.

  “I don’t think this is connected to the abduction.” Ten was already in the room, inspecting the bed.

  Dix didn’t think so either. So two psychos were after Belle?

  The bedroom stank; he assumed it was piss, from the smell. A large, yellow pool stained the mattress. The dickhead had left behind DNA?

  “I’d say this is an amateur job.” Byron picked up a worn teddy bear from the other end of the bed. Its mouth had been taped shut. “I’d say this fool is common as cornbread and a few pickles short of a barrel.”

  Taped up teddy bears? What the fuck? The abduction had been a cool, clinical strike.

  “Someone wants to scare the bejesus out of her and keep her quiet. So who is it?” Ten studied a book. Most of the pages were ripped up and strewn all over the room like confetti. “This here’s a DSM manual.”

  “The what?” Byron asked.

  “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. None of the other books were touched, but this one was destroyed.”

  The signs were pointing to her boss—at least when it came to the break in. Or maybe Belle’s boss paid David to snatch her, scare her into silence?

  Or Dix was itching to pound on somebody, and the SOB had it coming.

  “I’d recommend keepin’ her close until we deal with this,” Byron said.

  “I intend to.” Dix had promised to never let anything happen to her again, and he’d already gone back on his word.

  Byron smirked. “You nearly took Rebel’s head off, and you’re actin’ all twitchy. Why, I think you’ve fallen for the pretty little counselor.”

  Ten chuckled.

  “Quit jawin’ and help me find her cat.” Dix got down on his knees to look for it. Damn if he wanted to think about his feelings for Belle right now. He felt too raw. “She loves the damn thing and won’t be able to rest until I find it.” The fluffy bastard had better be okay. Belle loved the cat, and she’d be devastated if anything happened to him.

  “Here, kitty, kitty.” What the fuck was its name again? Quark? Quartz? “You think we can get her another one if it’s dead?”

  “It ain’t a goldfish. She’ll not
ice.” Ten sighed.

  Merrow?

  The plaintive sound came from beneath the bed. Dix flipped up the coverlet and spied two glowing green eyes.

  “Come on, kitty. Get your ass out of there.” Dix sneezed.

  The cat hissed and snarled.

  “I believe he told you to go fuck yourself in cat language.” Byron chuckled.

  “Shut up and help me get him.”

  “Get out here, cat.” Byron knelt on the other side of the bed.

  The cat squalled.

  “His name’s Quaxo. Belle told me all about him. And he’s got his back up. You’re all makin’ it worse. Back off and let me try.” Ten got down on his hands and knees while Dix and Byron stood back.

  He reached for the cat, who wailed in response. Ten crooned to the feline—speaking nonsense in a soothing tone. After a bit, Quaxo crawled out from under the bed with his ears pinned back. He was shivering, and Ten picked him up, cuddling the furball against his chest like a baby.

  From what Dix could see, the creature didn’t have any signs of injury. Thank God.

  “There you go. It ain’t so bad, huh?” Ten scratched Quaxo’s ears.

  “You’re the fuckin’ cat whisperer.” Byron shook his head.

  “They don’t give a damn about pleasin’ folks. They just go about their business.” Ten stroked Quaxo. “And they’re first-rate predators. They kill for pleasure, not just food.”

  Byron glanced at Dix, raising a brow as if to say that just ain’t right. Ten had always been a bit off. Damn fine at his job, but he took a bit too much pleasure in it for Dix’s comfort.

  “I’m gonna need you to tuck the crazy away for a bit.” Byron clapped him on the shoulder.

  “No problem, boss.” Quaxo lolled in Ten’s arms, purring unabashedly.

  “Let’s get you back to your owner, you fluffy bastard.” Dix sneezed again.

  ***

  Two hours later, Quaxo was snoozing in Dix’s guest room. Belle had been relieved to see him. Other than being scared out of his mind, he’d survived the encounter without injury. It was one bright spot in a terrible day.

  After she’d snuggled with Quaxo for a bit, Dix coaxed her out of the bedroom with the promise of coffee, and she found herself in the forbidden room—the one with the sign on it. Despite all she’d been through, Belle was curious.

  The bedroom was decorated in the Southwestern style, matching the rest of the house. Yet it had a distinctly feminine feel, blending deep shades of purple and pink into the red, yellow, and brown.

  “What are we doing in here?” Belle asked.

  “This was my wife’s room…the bedroom we shared. I think it’s time we got to know each other better.”

  Belle held her breath. Dix was going to let her in.

  “I’m gonna tell you about Ellie.” He took a long drink of coffee. “And afterward, I hope you’ll tell me more about your family.”

  Belle winced. Talking about Emmett was painful, and she avoided it, but she wanted to hear about Dix’s past.

  “Ellie was your wife?”

  He nodded. Dix sat down on the end of the four-poster bed, and she joined him, even though it felt strange to be sitting on a dead woman’s bed.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you telling me now?” He was offering up some very intimate information.

  “I should’ve told you sooner, but it’s…difficult.” He grimaced, and the look lingered on his features. His mouth turned down at the corners, and his thick brows drew together.

  “Believe me, I understand.” She could read the distress on his face, and Belle waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

  “Ellie and I were high school sweethearts.” As he spoke, he twisted the ring on his finger.

  Somehow, she couldn’t picture Dix as a teenager, going to the prom with his sweetie. It seemed too normal.

  “We got hitched our first year in college. Our parents were fit to be tied but couldn’t do anything about it. We were eighteen and in love and didn’t give a damn what anyone said.” His smile was crooked. “I thought we’d be together for the rest of our lives.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’ve been askin’ myself that for years. I think fate stepped in because I refuse to believe God could ever be so cruel.” Dix smoothed the pink coverlet, running his hands along the fabric. “Or maybe God gave me exactly what I deserved, but Ellie didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

  Belle held her breath.

  “But before we talk about it, you gotta know the rest. We’d been tryin’ to conceive for years, but it was difficult because she had endometriosis. Have you heard of it?”

  “Yes, a roommate of mine in college had it.”

  Stacy had developed lesions on her ovaries. She used to have terrible cramps, and the disease messed with her menstrual cycle as well. Sometimes she wouldn’t have her period for a month or two, then she’d get a really heavy one that’d gush through her underwear or jeans. Belle had always felt bad for Stacy. It looked painful.

  “According to her OB/GYN, about a third of women with it develop fertility problems. Ellie wanted a child of our own, but I would’ve been fine with adoption. She wouldn’t hear of it, though.” Dix rubbed his jaw.

  Belle knew this story didn’t have a happy ending, so she braced herself for the worst.

  “When she started getting nauseous, Ellie took one of those at-home pregnancy tests. It turned pink—we were over the moon. I bought a bottle of champagne for me and sparklin’ grape juice for her, and we danced around the kitchen.” Tears filled his eyes, and he smiled.

  She was struck by the bittersweet expression.

  “Ever felt like that? Can’t stop smilin’, grinnin’ ear-to-ear joy?”

  Belle didn’t answer the question. She hadn’t ever been so excited, so blissful, and now it troubled her. And what did it say about her?

  “Thinkin’ back, we musta been out of our minds, bringin’ a child into this life. This ain’t no place for a family.” Dix paused, shaking his head. “Back to the point—a couple months in, the nausea got much worse, but we didn’t think anythin’ of it. We figured it was typical mornin’ sickness until the headaches started. One was so bad, she couldn’t get out of bed, so I took her to the emergency room.”

  She tensed.

  “We discovered she had a glioblastoma brain tumor.”

  “Brain cancer.” Belle laid a hand on his arm.

  He positioned his hand over hers, holding it in place.

  “Glioblastomas are fast-growin’, malignant tumors—bastards. The survival rate is somethin’ like two percent. I know because I researched them for weeks. I looked for clinical trials, new medicines, I searched for survivor stories and articles, trying to find anythin’ to save her.” He met her gaze, and his eyes looked empty. “The doctor gave her six months to live.”

  “Oh, God.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “Six months, when she was only two months into her pregnancy.”

  “Did they operate?” Belle swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Yeah, they cut the tumor out, but it came back and brought a friend. They grow like fuckin’ weeds.” He turned away from her. “The doctor gave us all the options. Ellie was pregnant, so radiation wasn’t a choice, so she chose a very careful course of chemotherapy.”

  “It didn’t hurt the baby?”

  “No, just Ellie. Her body shielded the baby, but she got sicker and weaker every time they gave her the poison. And then we found out the damn things were resistant to it.”

  There was a collection of colorful scarves draped on an organizer by the desk. One for every occasion—flags, Christmas trees, Jack O’ Lanterns. His wife had probably worn them when her hair had fallen out.

  “The tumors didn’t shrink?”

  “Fuck no. They acted like the doctors pumped her full of fruit juice, instead of toxic chemicals.” His fingers curled into fists.

  “What about a more aggres
sive treatment?”

  “Not unless she had an abortion.” He sucked in a breath. “We tried forever to get pregnant, and when we finally did, she had to risk her life to keep her alive.”

  “The baby was a girl?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was harsh, strangled. “Who can make a choice like that? End your baby’s life, the one you fought to have, or risk your own.”

  Tears fell down her cheeks. She couldn’t imagine what she would’ve done in Ellie’s place. Both decisions were awful.

  “She elected to keep the baby?” Belle bit her lower lip.

  He stood with his back to her. His shoulders drooped, and his spine bowed as if the weight of the world had been set on his back.

  “Yes, and God help me, I pleaded with her to have the abortion. I begged her to save herself, but she wouldn’t do it.” He clapped a hand over his mouth.

  “What did you do?”

  “What I had to.” He turned, and his eyes were red-rimmed. “If you truly love someone, you put their needs above your own. She wanted to keep the baby, so I went along with it. I watched her get sicker and weaker while we got ready for the birth.”

  It should’ve been a joyous time in their lives, but cancer had twisted it. How awful.

  “I put together high chairs and cribs and pretended everythin’ was fine when I should’ve been takin’ her to the hospital for treatments. It’s ironic. I’d never seen Ellie so happy, like she was convinced she’d make it through, but…” He broke off.

  “They found more tumors?”

  “Yeah, during her eighth month. Four of them. So they prepped her and took her in for surgery again.” Dix rubbed his palm over his heart.

  Belle had an awful feeling.

  “It was the last time you saw her?”

  He sucked in a labored breath. “I kissed her goodbye and....” A tear fell, and he brushed it away.

  “I’m so sorry. The baby too?”

  “I….” He hesitated. “She’s gone too.”

  Belle sensed there was something more to the situation, but she wasn’t going to press him. He’d already confided a great deal. Dix had lost his wife and child—no wonder he was so closed off. Belle doubted he’d spoken to many people about his wife’s death.