by Beth Ciotta
She eased away, moony-eyed, soft and slick, and sweet as hell. “Can you feel the magic, Joe?”
He gazed into the depths of her mesmerizing eyes and her kind and fanciful soul. “Let’s just say I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Once Upon a Saturday…
Bella couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this nervous.
Wait. Yes, she could.
Her sophomore year of high school when she’d agreed to be Davey Loggins’ prom date. He was a senior and attended high school in Whitney, a rival school of her own. She knew very few of his classmates and had felt out of her league. Davey, who she’d fallen for over spring break, and his friends were older. They were also part of the jock set whereas she’d been a theater and book geek. She’d obsessed over wearing the wrong dress and saying the wrong thing. So much so that she threw up five minutes before Davey showed up at her house with a fancy wrist corsage. Sort of like she felt right now as she struggled to zip herself into a dress that felt way too tight and far too short.
She was nervous about attending Mitzi’s wedding. She didn’t know Mitzi or her fiancé or any one of their friends or family except for Val who she’d only met once. The ceremony was taking place in a cathedral and the reception was at a catering hall. She’d attended four weddings in her life. Three of the ceremonies had taken place in Nowhere’s small Methodist church, one had taken place in Baxter Given’s humongous backyard. Her Sunday best had been more than fine. But this was Chicago—a cathedral and a dinner dance reception—so she’d relied on Angel’s fashion advice and extensive wardrobe.
Cursing the stuck zipper, Bella started to perspire. Great. She had no idea if she was underdressed or overdressed. She just hoped she didn’t embarrass herself. More than anything she dreaded meeting Savage and Val’s police friends because, yeah, they were probably all tough and streetwise and she was, according to Savage, Princess Rainbow.
Feeling more queasy by the moment, she abandoned the zipper and hobbled toward her suitcase. Her feet already hurt and she’d only just buckled her shoes. Or rather Emma’s shoes. She rooted for a box of antacid. She could’ve sworn she’d packed those chalky tablets.
“Don’t puke. Don’t puke.”
Annoyed by her sudden and severe lack of confidence, Bella straightened with a huff.
“Get. A. Grip.”
She’d woken up naked in Savage’s bed. In Savage’s arms. They’d shared a long and adventurous night of uninhibited lovemaking. Sometimes tender. Sometimes wild. There hadn’t been a self-conscious bone in her body. Granted she’d been a little high on champagne, but she’d been more hopped up on love. She’d greeted the morning with a cheery and confident disposition.
Then Savage had launched into the first of several lectures. Lectures regarding her safety. Yes, Sasha’s attacker was behind bars, but there was still the matter of Pratt’s vendetta. He’d threatened anyone dear to Savage, and Bella was at the top of that list. She was also now in Pratt’s personal territory—Chicago.
At first, she’d listened and nodded, chalking up his worries to his jaded and protective nature. But as the morning rolled on, Savage’s darkening mood rained on Bella’s parade.
She blamed him for this irrational bout of nerves. She nixed the antacid and whipped out a mental umbrella intending to deflect Savage’s cynical storm. Didn’t he realize negativity breeds negativity?
“Apparently not.”
She glanced toward the bathroom. Savage had left the door open while he showered and shaved. Every few minutes he shouted a reminder.
“Stick close to me.”
“Keep your phone on your person.”
“If anyone grabs you, scream.”
As if reading her mind, Savage called out again. “If you see anyone suspicious—”
“Everyone will look suspicious!” Bella snapped. “I won’t know anyone!”
Savage walked out of the bathroom in his boxers, drying his gorgeous face with a pristine hand towel. “Are you okay? I… Whoa.” He stopped in his tracks and stared.
Even though she felt like an amoeba under a microscope, she refrained from tugging down the lacey hem. “I know it’s a little short, but according to Angel, mid-thigh is stylish.”
“It’s—”
“Tight. I know. I don’t usually wear figure-hugging clothes, but this is—”
“Gorgeous.”
“What?”
“You look gorgeous.”
She wasn’t fishing for compliments. When she’d first tried on this lacey magenta dress, she’d felt transformed. Sophisticated. But this morning she’d suffered second thoughts due to Savage’s simmering angst. His present ogling did wonders for her spirit. Hands on hips, she struck one of those red carpet poses and grinned. “I do?”
“And sexy.”
She’d expected stylish or sophisticated. “I don’t do sexy.”
“Yeah,” he said, moving toward her like a panther on the prowl, “you do.”
Her skin tingled and her pulse revved. Biker boy thought she was sexy. “No one’s ever told me that before.”
He raked a hot gaze over her body hugging dress. “Trust me.”
“What about the strappy stilettos?”
“You’re killing me.”
She smiled. “They’re Emma’s. The dress is Angel’s. I didn’t have time to shop.”
“Thank you Emma and Angel.” He pulled her into his arms. “You’re a beauty, Bella. I’ll be the envy of every man at that reception. One thing,” he said as his fingers trailed over her bare back.
“What’s that?” she asked, reveling in erotic shivers.
“Your zipper.”
“Oh. Oh!” Bella stepped back and turned around. “Could you help me? It’s stuck.”
“I’d rather help you out of this dress, but then we’d be late. There,” he said as the zipper slid home. “Wait. There’s a hook thingee at the top.”
“And a threaded thingee,” she said with an amused snort. “Put the hook thingee through the threaded thingee.”
“Got it.” He squeezed her shoulders then moved away.
She turned and saw him stepping into dark blue trousers.
“How would you feel if I asked you to tie my tie?” he asked with a teasing smile.
At least a smidgeon of his good humor had returned. That was something. “Lost,” she answered. “I’ve never knotted a man’s tie in my life.”
“That makes me absurdly happy,” Savage said as he pulled on a lavender shirt.
Bella had only ever seen Mr. Dark and Dangerous in jeans and t-shirts or his boxers or naked. Watching him dress in a suit was oddly, wildly erotic. Embarrassed by her prurient thoughts, she turned away and transferred necessities from her messenger bag into a tiny beaded purse—another loner from Angel. Lip gloss, money, ID… “I was thinking.” Tissues, phone. “Depending on when we leave the reception, maybe we can stop by the hospital. I’d like to visit Sasha again.”
“I won’t insult you by asking if you’re up to it. Just know she’ll look about the same as she did yesterday.”
“I’m better prepared today. It’s okay. Really.”
“I needed to speak with her anyway,” he said while struggling with his tie. “Friends of mine run a ranch in upstate Oregon. A reinvention center for troubled kids. It’s called Second Chance. I’ve been speaking to them about Sasha. Trying to arrange a move for her and her aunt. It wasn’t looking good.”
“But now it is?”
He rolled back his shoulders as if shrugging off a two-ton boulder. “Practically a done deal.”
“Oh, Joe.” Bella rushed forward and threw her arms around the man who owned her heart more by the minute.
“I can read your mind like a book,” Savage said while he held tightly and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t go putting me on a pedestal, Princess Rainbow. Arranging a ticket out of Chicago for Sasha was the least I could do.”
“But it’
s not just an escape. It’s a chance to create a new life.”
Savage cupped her chin and bade her gaze. “I’m not a changed man, Bella. I still have the same history, the same baggage. I’m just making a conscious effort to take whatever positive steps I can.”
“Like drawing purple dragons and three-eyed aliens for the children in the pediatrics unit.” Bella smiled. “Val told me.”
“Yeah, well—”
“And I saw the sketches you drew for Sasha. A guardian angel?” Her heart kicked when he broke eye contact, looking embarrassed. “You’re a good man, Joe Savage.”
“Safer to say I’m inspired by a good woman.” He gave her a squeeze. “We need to get moving, sweetheart.”
Heart full, she squeezed back then slipped away in search of her sparkly shawl, a stunning lightweight wrap knitted by Chrissy.
“You sure about hitting the hospital today? Wouldn’t you rather sightsee?”
“Can’t we do both?”
“How about we play it by ear?”
“Sure. I…” She lost her train of thought when she turned and saw Savage pulling on a jacket—his blue and lavender paisley tie perfectly knotted. Hello, Mr. Fashion Model. “Whoa.”
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a thumbs’ up.”
“Wow.”
“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll never leave this room.”
“We should go.”
“I’d rather stay, but, yeah. Val will rip me a new one if I miss this. Just remember—”
“Nothing bad is going to happen.” Bella marched over to Savage and nabbed him by the lapels of his crisp, stylish jacket. “Expect the worst and you’re inviting the worst. Why in the world would Leo-the-Lion Pratt send a goon to an affair attended by a bunch of cops? How stupid would that be? Really stupid, if you ask me.” Bella loosened her grip and smoothed the lapels she’d crumpled. “Now. We’re going to go to this fancy shindig and we’re going to have fun. Right?”
Savage smiled down into her eyes. “Spoken like the ferocious optimist I love.”
“Not the answer I was going for, but it will do.”
Bella stole a kiss and Savage gave her butt a playful slap. She thought she’d managed to make him see reason, and maybe he did, but even so, as they stepped into the hall she felt him slip into full protector mode.
* * *
Bella had made some good points and Joe did his damnedest not to obsess on worst-case scenarios. Although he was vigilant as he escorted her through the hotel and onto the bustling sidewalk, he relaxed somewhat in the taxi. He relaxed even more in St. James Cathedral. As a couple sitting on the bride’s side, Bella and Joe were indeed surrounded by cops.
Joe knew them all.
He’d worked with most of them and, in better times, had hung out with more than a few. Most of the friendships had faded or frayed or both. He blamed his volatile temper, his moodiness, and his obsession with busting that sex trafficking ring. He’d burned out and he’d been an asshole. Plain and simple. Never mind that he got the job done, his methods weren’t always Kosher. Other detectives dabbled in shades of grey. It’s not that Joe was wholly unique, but he’d crossed the line one too many times. Even Val, his closest and oldest friend had asked to be reassigned. Learning she didn’t want to work with him, didn’t trust him, had been the slap that roused his attention. He’d known he couldn’t go on status quo and he was dead set against therapy, so he’d quit. Grabbing the lifeline extended from his dead Uncle Mike, he’d chucked his career to move to Nowhere desperate to escape the darkness. Only the darkness had been within.
An asshole and an idiot.
Entering the church and taking their seats, Joe wasn’t sure who stirred up the most interest. Him or Bella? Or maybe it was them as a couple. He radiated a dangerous edge and she oozed goodness and light. He knew Bella was nervous about not knowing anyone, but she smiled at everyone who looked her way and traded greetings with the ease of a professional hostess.
Throughout the ceremony, Joe stole several peeks at his date, noting her expressions, trying to read her mind. Was she fantasizing about her own wedding? The church, the gown, the flowers, the ring? Was she worried he wasn’t the marrying kind? He’d never told Bella about his reluctance to have kids. Even if he wanted to propose, he’d have to broach the kid subject first. Would it prove an insurmountable barrier?
Those thoughts snowballed and prevailed, even after they left the cathedral and entered the catering hall. All through dinner, Joe only had eyes for Bella. Even though Mitzi was the star of this show. Even though Val and an assortment of his former colleagues vied for his attention. He interacted, appreciating those who expressed genuine interest in his new life, indulging those who greeted him with a mix of wariness and disdain. He’d ruffled a lot of feathers. He got that.
Overall Bella proved the buffer he’d hoped for. No one broached Joe’s shaky history nor did they bring up Pratt. Conversation was light and social and as dinner turned to dancing and drinks, somehow, amazingly, Joe did manage to loosen up. Mostly he was getting a kick watching Bella have a great time.
“Caught yourself a sweet one, Savage. How the hell did that happen?”
Joe shifted his eyes from the dance floor, where Bella was performing the Chicken Dance alongside a bunch of kids, to the man who planted his suited ass next to Joe. “I have no idea, Chief.”
Chief Douglas Cray. The man who’d mentored Joe through his early years with the BOC, the man who’d taken him aside after Pratt had accused Joe of brutality, the man who’d spoken to him as a friend, first. Supervisor, second. Joe had been in deep shit and Doug had handed him a shovel. Even after Joe had thrown in the towel, his boss had treated him with respect. One of the good guys. And Joe had returned his follow-up phone calls with brief, detached texts, same as he’d done with Val.
This moment Joe regarded Doug with the admiration he deserved, mentally kicking himself for closing the door on so many of his past associates. “Can I grab you a beer?”
“No, thanks. I’m on my way out.”
“So soon?” The party was still in full swing.
Doug shifted and lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. Not yet. So do me a favor and keep it under your hat until further notice.”
“Okay.”
“Pratt’s dead.
Joe stared.
“I just got the call. A prison scuffle ended badly for the bastard.”
“Was it a gang hit? Retribution? A personal beef? What the hell?”
“I’m heading over to get a full account from the warden. I’ll notify anyone on my team as needed. That won’t be Val. Let her enjoy her special evening. Hell, she actually put on a gown. And heels. She deserves some sort of award for going all girly and risking a ribbing from the guys.”
Joe smiled a little, even though his heart was pounding like a mother.
Doug squeezed his shoulder. “Details are fuzzy, but one thing is clear. You’re free of Pratt’s threat. Let this thing go once and for all, Joe. Go be with your sunny girl. Have a life.”
Joe nodded, stuck for words as the chief swung out of his chair and disappeared into the crowd. He was hungry for those fuzzy details, but he didn’t follow. He felt stunned. Pratt dead? Just like that? In the blink of an eye, in the heat of a scuffle, the impetus for Joe’s biggest worry, the biggest dirt-bag in his herd of demons was dead?
Too easy. Too good to be true. Yet there it was.
Who says fairy tales are for children?
“Damn.”
Joe loosened his tie. He focused back on the dance floor as that idiotic chicken dance ended and the band segued into a slow number. Children fled the floor and couples converged. Jimmy Reed, a former colleague with the detective division had commandeered Bella. Joe wasn’t jealous, but he wanted to be in Jimmy’s shoes.
He closed the distance, tapping the man he used to call friend. “Do you mind?”
Jimmy looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, I mind, Savage. How th
e hell did you luck out?” Though he did give Joe’s back a good natured rap after handing off Bella.
She smiled up into his eyes. “I thought you weren’t keen on dancing.”
Joe held her close, his heart pounding for a dozen reasons, his brain jammed with a hundred thoughts. Pratt dead. Sasha safe. Darkness clearing. Loving Bella. “I’m keen on you.”
He stole a tender kiss then pulled her close, swaying to the music while contemplating the future.
Funland.
Bella.
Her stories.
His art.
Arms wrapped around his neck, Bella squeezed closer as the music swelled. “What’s going on you, Joe?”
He couldn’t tell her about Pratt. Not until he’d gotten the go ahead from the chief. But he did hug her and give her ear a playful nip. “Viva Evolution.”
* * *
Bella was floating on air. And it had nothing to do with alcohol. She’d toasted the bride and groom with a flute of champagne but then she’d switched to iced tea for the rest of the afternoon.
No, this giddy lightheadedness had everything to do with Joe. She’d sensed him relaxing throughout the day. He’d reconnected with friends from the CPD. He’d encouraged her to join Val and several others on the dance floor. The best had been when he’d cut in on his friend Jimmy, pulling her into his arms for a sexy dance. Melting against Savage’s body, swaying to the sultry music—heaven. He was no longer on full alert, peering into the corners of the room, waiting for some goon to snatch her into the shadows. He seemed at ease, happy even.
She couldn’t wait until they were back at the hotel where she could question him in private. What had erased the worry from those mysterious dark eyes?
Just now he was escorting her back to the table. “I could use a beer,” he said. “Can I get you something?”
“Not right now,” Bella said. “I’ve had too much tea. I need to visit the ladies room. It’s just through that hall. And look Val’s heading that way, too,” she added in case he was still concerned about her being out of sight.
He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Meet you back here.”
Bella tugged at his tie then nabbed her little beaded bag. Since she was snatching a moment of privacy, she’d send quick texts to her dad and the Inseparables. She’d touched base the day before letting everyone know she was fine, but she’d kept Joe’s declaration of love to herself, worrying she’d somehow jinx it if she shared the news too soon, worrying it was too good to be true.