But I had no interest in debating it anyway.
I was stuck on something else.
“Tate saw Deke watching me?” I asked.
“Says he did and Tate don’t miss much, obviously, you two boning and talkin’ over Steph’s chicken, whatever that is,” Krys answered.
Whoa. Whoa. And whoa.
Deke had been watching me?
“Are you nervous?” Lauren asked, taking me away from that happy thought.
“A little,” I told her honestly.
“About what?” Krystal asked.
“Well, I like orgasms and Deke handing me the key to his trailer without blinking. And bottom line, I like Deke. He’s…Deke,” I said, not knowing how to explain it better.
I got nods like they both understood me (which, since they’d known him longer than me, I figured they did).
I still tried to give them more.
“I’ve been around. It’s not like I’ve met every human being on the planet but there’s no one like him. He’s all…mountain man. And then he can be sweet. And he looks out for his friends. And he’s funny. And he thinks I’m funny. And there’s no denying he stepped up when shit got seriously crazy for me.” I shook my head. “I don’t want anything to fuck with that. Things have been a little bit rocky in my life lately. It’s nice to just be…happy.” I felt a tentative, hopeful smile curl at my lips when I finished, “Like, really freaking happy.”
“Right, he’s my friend and normally I would not lay him out there like this but, just in case you missed it, known him a long time and already said haven’t known a single woman who’s seen the inside of that trailer of his twice,” Krystal shared. “And just sayin’, he treats that land like its sacred so he usually doesn’t take his hookups there at all. Not sure who makes that cut. Just know he’s not ever once handed his key over to one of them to plug in a Crock-Pot.”
Okay, now I was getting really, really freaking happy.
“Don’t know his story,” Lauren said. “Tate does but he hasn’t shared and if it was open for Deke, which means Tate could share it, Tate would have given it to me. But him not sharing, well, don’t want to wipe that look off your face, babe, but just be prepared.”
Even with her words, I felt that look wiped off my face.
She leaned toward me in my armchair that was tilted toward hers, across from the couch Krystal was lounging on, reached out and touched my knee.
She drew back and kept speaking.
“We all have baggage. This does not negate all Krys said. I’ve known Deke a long time and he was so immune to connecting in any real way to a woman, it was troubling. Everyone knows he’s a good man and for someone like that, you want him to find a good woman…” she gave me a sweet smile, sharing gratifyingly how she felt about me, “and get some of that happy. So just, you know, don’t be nervous. But do be prepared. Because if Deke’s gonna share, it’s a gift, Jus. And he doesn’t give that to everybody.”
I looked to Krys and she shook her head.
“I don’t know either, sister. And Bubba also doesn’t. I’m not like Laurie. Somethin’ that juicy about one of my people, I’d drag that out of him,” she lifted her fingers and snapped, but not loudly in deference to Breanne, “like a shot.”
“I can do baggage,” and I damn well could, and would, “I just…”
I trailed off, not knowing what to say or maybe not wanting to put into words what was making me nervous.
“You’re just fallin’ in love with him,” Krystal told me and I focused on her. “And in the beginning, that feels awesome and you don’t want anything messin’ with that.”
Yep.
That was what I didn’t want to put into words that was making me nervous.
I was falling in love with Deke.
“That’s just what I’m feeling,” I admitted.
“No sense in getting wound up about what you don’t know, Jus,” Laurie said and I looked to her. “Just go to the grocery store, get dinner cooking and get back to your guy with sandwiches.”
“I will, after you give me Breanne for five minutes,” I replied and grinned at Laurie. “You’re hogging her.”
We managed the handover without waking the baby girl and I’d just settled back, staring into her scrunchy face, watching her little red lips be all pouty when Krystal made her announcement.
“Makin’ Bubba knock me up again first chance we got.”
My eyes cut immediately to Krystal as I asked, “What?”
This I asked at the same time Lauren mini-shrieked, “What?”
Krystal tipped her 70’s pinup hair (hair that was perfect, this because Lauren was there longer than me and looked after Breanne while Krys showered) toward the baby girl in my arms.
“That beauty we made? We’re totally doin’ it again,” she stated.
“Uh, Krys, honey, Sunday freaked Bubba out. I’m not thinking—” Lauren started.
“I’ll talk him into it,” Krystal cut her off to say, her words like a wave of her hand.
“Honey, he was really worried about you,” Laurie told her, glanced at me and asked, “Cone of silence?”
“Of course,” I agreed.
She looked back to Krystal. “He got Tate by himself, Krys, and he lost it. Big, blubbering man tears. Tate didn’t know what to do with him. All because he was worried with Breanne coming early something would happen to you. To the both of you. I think it was part relief because this happened with Tate after it was over. But it was mostly him getting out the worry.”
For a second, I stared in astonishment at Krystal as Krystal did the same at Lauren.
Krys was the seen-it-all, done-it-all, fuck-the-T-shirt kind of gal. Not one who could be astonished by anything.
Then she straight up astounded me when I saw her face get so soft it was tender, love shining out of her eyes.
It was gone in a blink, like I’d imagined it, and she stated, “He’ll have to man up. Bree needs a sibling and I ain’t gettin’ any younger.” She lifted a hand, palm out toward Lauren who had opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t worry. He won’t be hard to talk around. Doin’ the business that makes a baby is one of his favorite things.”
“One of them?” I teased.
“He likes fucking a whole lot, but my man’s addicted to blowjobs and that’s me taking it in the wrong end to make babies.”
“Good Lord,” Lauren said to the ceiling.
I grinned at Krys.
She didn’t grin at me.
She reached her arms out my way and stated, “Crock-Pot. You get on that, I can get my damned baby back.”
I kept grinning as I got up, rounded her coffee table and gave her back her daughter.
I didn’t straighten away for so long she looked up at me.
“Told you you could do it,” I mouthed.
I didn’t let her respond.
That was when I moved away, looking to Lauren.
“Crock-Pot,” I said.
“Right, it’s in my car,” she replied, pushing out of her chair. “I’ll be back,” she said to Krystal.
“We’ll be here,” Krys said softly, her head tipped down to Breanne.
Laurie and I exchanged a happy look. Then we went out to her SUV and she gave me her Crock-Pot. I thanked her, making a mental note to add that to my shopping list of things to get for home when I had a kitchen (or after the painting was done, since I could plug it in in the laundry room, now my makeshift kitchen).
I then texted Deke I was leaving Krys’s.
I went to the store, to Deke’s trailer, and I got an electric charge (not quite like his kisses, bites, teeth grazing, mouth-at-nipple pulling, etc., but still nice) when I opened the trailer with his key.
I texted Deke I made it.
I started the chicken in the Crock-Pot.
And then I texted Deke I was picking up sandwiches and that I’d be home soon.
* * * * *
Surprise of surprises, walking into my house seeing Deke in white co
veralls with a mask that had wings over his face, heavy straps at the back of his head around his man-bun, and noting he was still outrageously hot.
Bigger surprise of surprises, I hadn’t paid a lot of attention when they were spraying the primer because I spent that time, to get out of the smell, in my bedroom or out on the deck. But it should have dawned on me spraying paint went lightning quick when they got it all done lickety-split last week.
So I stood inside my door, carrying bags of sandwiches, chips and La-La Land treats (the bruise under my eye wasn’t gone, but it was gone enough for me to use concealer successfully, so Sunny hadn’t so much as blinked at me—she and Shambles had just given me hugs and got me my treats while gabbling away like normal), my mind boggling because the whole downstairs was done, they were working upstairs and I hadn’t been gone three hours.
That said, most of the walls downstairs were windows.
Still.
When my mind finished boggling, taking in the soft latte color of my walls and how it warmed the whole space, I saw Deke at the edge of the landing, having pulled his mask down to his throat (also hot) staring down at me.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Are you a wizard?” I asked back, swaying out a bag to indicate the space.
Another cocky grin.
God, the man killed me.
“Lunch!” I shouted.
“Right on!” Bubba shouted back, also in coveralls, mask at his throat, but no offense to Bub, he didn’t make it hot.
“Bub, paper plates in the laundry room. Can you get ’em?” Deke asked as Bubba made his way off the ladder and Deke turned to follow him down.
“I can get them,” I said.
“I got ’em, darlin’,” Bubba replied and took off across the space.
I looked to Deke, having a weird feeling about Bubba’s exit, which seemed pre-planned.
He finished climbing down the ladder and I slowly approached him as he not-so-slowly approached me.
“Is everything cool?” I asked.
He stopped in front of me and ordered, “Give me a kiss, Jussy.”
I rolled up on my toes, he curled a hand around my jaw and we touched lips.
I rolled back and he didn’t take his hand away.
“Okay, uh…kinda freaking here, honey,” I whispered.
“Deck called.”
Oh shit.
“And?” I prompted.
“Bianca and Anton Rojas left on a flight at ten thirty yesterday morning bound for Costa Rica.”
“Oh shit,” I said out loud.
Deke kept the information flowing.
“Thing that’s sure was what freaked your girl Lacey’s old man, Anton Rojas, when you knew him, had a very illegal business.”
“Oh fuck,” I breathed.
“Slow, steady growth, the guy played it smart,” Deke shared. “When he got on radar with bigger fish who’d eat him whole, he made a wise decision that he didn’t want things to turn messy. He merged operations with a very big player and took a mid-level management position.”
“Tony,” I said disbelievingly, because I could kind of believe it, I also just couldn’t.
“Time in between, he worked his way up and he’s heavy now, Jussy. He’s also sharp. Everyone from the cops to the Feds know he’s neck deep in some serious shit but they got nothing to tie him to anything.”
“Right,” I muttered just for something to say, totally flipped out at all Deke was saying.
“Now, they still got nothin’,” Deke went on. “Those tickets were not bought yesterday morning. They were bought a week ago. Last Monday, precisely, the day after the shit went down with you.”
I nodded, thinking this was not a coincidence.
Deke kept going.
“Anton’s prints are in the system. Where they aren’t is anywhere in that apartment. Only thing places him there is an eye witness and he’s only one. No one else saw him or has ever seen him there.”
“Okay,” I said, again just for something to say because Deke stopped talking.
He started again.
“Sayin’ that, no one saw Caswell go in. No one heard shit. No shell casings left behind. No signs of struggle. No mess like someone was getting out in a hurry. No one saw either of them leave. And no one can place those two there when Caswell was done. Outside the witness, who did confirm it was Rojas he saw entering the apartment, they got nothing else to put him there. Cops haven’t approached Rojas’s people but they suspect, when they do, they’ll get alibis for him and Bianca. He lives closer to LAX. She could have spent the night at his place before they took off in the morning. Or someone could say that’s the way it was even if it wasn’t the way it was. And Bianca left clothes and other shit like she was coming back, just packing for vacation. Their tickets are return. They’re set to come back next Sunday.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, figuring my girl was going to step right into a shit storm when (if) she got off that plane.
Deke slid his hand down to my neck and bent closer to me.
“What I’m sayin’, gypsy, is that good or bad, way it is right now, they got nothing to pin on either of them.”
“Except opportunity and motive,” I pointed out. “And them leaving the country right after the murder.”
“Except that but, baby, that’s dick without any physical evidence or eye witnesses. And those tickets were not purchased on the fly and they aren’t one-way. They could say their vacation was planned.”
“Caswell is linked to Bianca and me,” I reminded him. “And his dead body was found in Anca’s apartment.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “But just because she’s got motive doesn’t mean they can do shit about it. Deck says at this point, they don’t even have enough to do anything but bring her in for questioning. She got bored, she could walk right out. They have nothing on either of them to hold them. As far as the registers go, your friend doesn’t own a gun and never did. It’s suspicious a known associate she owed money got dead in her apartment but that’s all it is. By the time they get back, they’ll have their stories straight, their alibis tight, and my guess, you’ll hear from your girl who’s clean and healthy and with a guy who does it for her. He’s just a sharp-dressed man who’s way the fuck dirty.”
“So Tony is still playing it smart,” I remarked.
“He did this, or arranged for it to happen, yeah. And to that end, Jussy, can’t believe he’d even do him at her apartment unless there was a reason why. Could be he’s settin’ someone else up. Could be Caswell surprised them. Could be some other enemy was setting him up. Who the fuck knows? That’s a loose end and this guy isn’t about loose ends. He did Caswell there, he had a reason. We just won’t know that reason until his play plays out.”
“I don’t know what to do with this, Deke.”
“Only thing you can. If your girl was in on it, she took care of her problem, a problem she made yours. Not in a good way but that don’t mean it isn’t done.”
“You’re right,” I mumbled. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t done.”
But God, what was done was crazy.
“Jussy.”
I focused on him.
“Likely she’s never gonna share outright with you she had someone whacked, and there’s still doubt, minimal but it’s there, she actually did. She does, then I got a problem with her because that puts you in an uncomfortable position of keepin’ your mouth shut about a felony which is another fuckin’ felony. That swings your ass right out there in a way you got problems throwin’ your girl under a bus she set in motion and doin’ that gettin’ you heat from whatever organization Rojas is running.”
“God,” I whispered.
“She caused this problem for you,” Deke stated. “And her sharp-dressed man’s got it together, no way in fuck he’s gonna let her share anything with you, for her and, he cares enough to find you to call to offer condolences about your dad, for you. It’s just done, baby, and you’ll never know how it g
ot done. Just move on.”
“Move on from a friend having someone murdered for me?”
“Move on from some fuckwad breaking into your house and beatin’ the crap outta you, choking you, scaring the shit outta you and you don’t know dick about what happened after. But at least that shit’s just done.”
As totally fucked up as it was, Deke was right.
That shit was just done.
“A miracle has occurred. Something’s actually put me off food,” I declared.
He grinned at me, slid out his thumb and stroked my jaw. “You’ll get that back.”
I nodded, hoping that happened before Steph’s chicken.
He bent and brushed his lips against mine before he straightened, moved away and yanked at his mask so he could pull it over his head, shouting, “Bubba, enough time!”
Yep.
It had been pre-planned.
“Thank fuck,” Bubba said, walking into the room with paper plates, two cans of Coke and a Fresca. “I’m starving.”
We headed to the ratty-ass furniture Jim-Billy rounded up for me.
Once there, I set about handing out sandwiches.
And there was me.
My bestie was tight with a criminal, linked to a murder, off to Costa Rica…
And I was doing the only thing I could.
Moving on.
Chapter Sixteen
Without You
Justice
I watched Deke haul his big body off his couch and head to the kitchen.
He’d cleaned his plate and was getting seconds.
I grinned down at my plate as I shoved more cheesy, chile chicken in my gob.
“My gypsy princess can also cook.”
At his quiet words, I looked to him.
The Crock-Pot was steaming. The pot with rice at his stove was too. As was the plate Deke again had piled high.
“The recipe has four ingredients, not counting the rice,” I shared. “It’s hardly gourmet.”
He moved back to the couch, folded into it and stretched out his long legs, his head turned to me.
“Not a big fan of gourmet, babe.” He used his fork to indicate his plate. “But I’m a big fuckin’ fan of this.”
I smiled at him huge.
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