“Come on. This way.” He grabs my hand, leading towards the dense forest.
“In there?” I look warily into the tangled vegetation. Growing up in White Oak, my parents couldn’t get me to spend much time inside. But in my adult life, I’m used to being inside police cruisers, office cubicles, and my apartment. Vince seems dead set on going into the woods, so I bite my tongue and follow. Mentally, I try to conjure that brave little girl who wasn’t afraid of thorny vines and spiders.
The incline is steep. I have to put my full effort into following Vince, and even begin to break a sweat. Vince carries the picnic basket, which looks very heavy, and hikes up the hill with ease.
Maybe I should work out more, I think, watching his jeans hug his toned ass.
I’m breathless when we make it to the top, but when I gaze out on the sunset drenched view, I have to admit, it’s worth it. There’s a small patch of soft grass. Vince lays out a blanket, and invites me to sit next to him. His slips his arm around my shoulder, and nuzzles my hair while I remain transfixed by the view. The city shimmers in the distance, the cold concrete softened by the golden glow of the setting sun. Behind that is sparkling water. Tugboats float back and forth, and it looks like they’re flying.
“You said you were starving?” Vince says, flipping open the basket. He precedes to unpack an impressive spread. There’s soft cheeses, pickled peppers, bacon wrapped figs, crunchy crackers, fresh baguettes, paté , nuts, olives, sliced salami, gherkins, and more. “I swung by the Italian market and picked up a few things”
“A few things?” I say sarcastically. But I’m studying the spread carefully, already planning what I’m going to eat first. “You sure know how to impress a girl.”
Vince nudges my side. “I know how to impress you.”
I plant my hands on my hips, feigning offense. “Are you saying I eat a lot?”
“I’m not saying you don’t.” Vince picks an olive from its briny bath, and presses it to my lips. “Eat up, baby. Because it’s going to all the right places.” His eyes slide down my body. He bites his lip, taking in the shape of my breasts.
I let Vince insert the olive into my mouth. The sour tang ignites my tastebuds, and intensifies my other senses. I see a bottle of wine in the picnic basket. I grab it.
“Want some?” I say flirtatiously.
Vince jolts back, blinking at the bottle in my hand. “No,” he says, quickly.
“Sorry, is this not for us?”
“It’s- it’s not for me. But it is for you. Have some, if you want.” He rummages inside of the basket, and finds a bottle opener.
I clutch the neck of the bottle, studying his face. I know there’s something he’s not telling me. As if he hears my thoughts, Vince sighs, and gives me a serious look.
“I’ve had problems with alcohol in the past,” Vince says. “And recently, with my father dying and everything else, I’ve started drinking a lot more.”
“I see.” I study the gentle slope of the wine bottle, feeling like a complete asshole. Vince never mentions his late father, but his grief must still be fresh. It wasn’t that long ago.
Vince laughs. “Why aren’t you running down that hill?”
“I don’t like to run.”
“I mean, away from me. You already know I’m a criminal. Now you know I’m an alcoholic. I wouldn’t blame you.” He talks jokingly, but from the way he searches me with his eyes, I know part of him is serious.
I narrow my eyes, then reach out and pinch his cheeks.
“I don’t scare that easily.”
“That’s obvious.” Vince cracks open a bottle of sparkling water and pours himself a glass.
“That looks good. I’ll have some.” I lay the wine back in the picnic basket and close the lid. “Everyone has weak points. I can understand why you’d turn to something to deal with your father dying. What matters is that you’ve caught it. You won’t let it get out of control.”
Vince takes my hand, absentmindedly grazing his lips over my knuckles.
“I won’t, because now I have a reason not to.”
Vince stares unflinchingly into my eyes. So far, I’ve realized Vince isn’t one for flowery, romantic words, but what he says packs a punch.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I say. I trace around his lips. My fingertip settles in the dimple in his cheek. I tilt my forehead towards him, and speak seriously. “No matter what, Vince, I’ll be by your side. No matter what.”
My voice sounds so fierce I barely recognized it. My words are backed by the blood coursing through my veins, powering my heart to pulse louder and faster. Vince’s mouth hardens. His hand is on my thigh, and he grabs my flesh, hard. I feel the energy emanating off of him. It merges with mine, until our desires become one in the same.
Our bodies melt together. We kiss urgently, so desperate to be close to each other. Vince gets me on my back. He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head. I stay in that position while he savagely rips off my clothes, and then his own. Vince holds my arms where they are as he tastes every inch of me. He fills his mouth with my breasts, sucking softly on my nipples, before kissing a trail down my stomach to between my legs.
I want him so badly I can’t keep still. My hips squirm, rising up to meet his mouth. Vince teases me with soft kisses on my inner thighs. He wriggles the pad of his thumb into my slit, and lightly taps my clit. I want to scream and beg, but I wait patiently. When I finally feel his hot mouth enclose my clit, the pleasurable sensations are overwhelming. I arch my back, writhing against the tightening in my lower belly.
Vince slides two fingers inside of me while he licks small circles around my clit. He brings me quickly to orgasm. My head lulls to the side, dazzled by the amazing view, as shattering sensations run through me.
Chapter Ten
————————
Harley
Everything is so beautiful now. I walk around, eyes up, wondering how I’d missed it before. I find an aching grace in everything, even the most mundane. When Walter and I have to speak with a hoarder about the city’s ordinance against her, I can’t take my eyes off of a collection of trashcan lids on her porch. They’re stacked together, and resemble modern art, a tangled, industrial representation of life itself.
My vision is colored by love. I understand that completely. I wasn’t miserable before, but once I’ve tasted this bliss, I don’t want to go back. What I have with Vince is better than I could’ve imagined. It’s deep, profound. Vince has opened up with me, which I doubt he does with many people. I’ve gazed into his flaws and decided they don’t matter, especially since they add up to the man I love.
On the night of my weekly call with my parents, I sit on the couch, counting down the minutes. When my alarm goes off, I dial their number. They still have a landline, so it’s the same number we had when I was a kid. I still haven’t decided what, if anything, to tell them about Vince.
Mom gives me an update on Laura, the cheapskate in her quilting group.
“She’s moved down south to be closer to her grandkids,” Mom says, gleefully. “Problem solved.”
“I knew it would work out.”
“Now, if only I can convince the others to tear out her patches.” She drifts into rueful silence.
“I’m sure you can, Mom.”
I hear Dad speaking urgently in the background. Mom places her hand over the phone, and the two speak in low tones.
“Your father wants to speak to you,” Mom says. Her voice trails off, and the speaker muffles. I imagine Dad grabbing the phone from her.
“Interesting news, Butterbean,” Dad says. “I ran into Wilma Friedman in town the other day. It turns out Jonah, her grandson, is now divorced. Weren’t you interested in him at one time?”
I cringe with embarrassment. My high school crushes aren’t something I like to reminisce about. At that time, I had the hots for any emo guy who walked into my field of vision.
“That was a long time ago,” I say.
“
Anyway, according to Wilma, Jonah and his ex didn’t have kids.”
“So?”
“So? It’s remarkable to find a man without children. Why, at your age? You should jump at this this, Butterbean. I found Jonah’s profile online. I’ll send you the link.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Just have a look at him. What’s the harm in that?”
“I’m not interested.”
Dad sighs, then continues with forced patience. “How do you know you’re not interested until you give him a chance?”
I throw my head back, wanting to yell into the phone. I clench my fists to keep from doing that, but I have to release the energy somehow.
“Because I’ve met someone,” I blurt out.
There’s a profound silence, like the calm after an atom bomb. I hear my mother gasp in the background. My father sputters, grappling for words.
“Did you say you-?”
“Met someone,” I finish for him. There’s no use in being secretive now.
“Why that’s, that’s wonderful,” Dad says. “Oh, Butterbean, we were so worried you’d never get married.”
“We’re not getting married. Not yet, maybe.”
“Tell us all about him,” Dad says. “I’ve put you on speaker.”
“Harley, this is so exciting,” Mom gushes.
“Go on,” Dad says.
I shake my head, cursing myself silently. Why did I jump down this rabbit hole?
“What do you want to know?” I ask, dumbly.
“How about his name?” Dad chuckles jovially.
“His name’s Vince.”
“Vince, okay. Vince what?”
“Vince Romando,” I mumble.
“Romando, you say?” I hear him rifling through his desk for a pen. “R-O-M-A-N-D-O.”
“That’s right.” I swat myself on the forehead. The first thing Dad’s going to do is search for Vince Romando on the internet. At least he won’t find out that the real Vince is a notorious gangster.
“Okay, got it,” Dad says. “So, keep going. What does he do for a living?”
My breath comes shallowly, and I break out into cold sweat.
“I’d love to talk, but I really have to run.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah, I have plans tonight.”
“Oh, with him?” Mom coos.
“No. With a friend.”
Mom gasps. “You have a friend, too?”
“Okay, talk soon,” I chirp, then click the phone off.
————————
A few nights later, I’m sitting with Vince in his apartment, going over his complicated charts. I try to keep up with everything he’s saying, but Dad keeps distracting me with texts.
“Who’s that?” Vince says, not even trying to conceal his jealousy.
“Just my dad,” I assure him, ruffling his hair.
Vince grips my knee and presses his face against my cheek. “Good.” He grabs one of his charts, and starts explaining it. “One of the Donovans’ main source of revenue is illegally importing prescription drugs from overseas, and selling them here. I’ve convinced a few families in the prescription drug trade to slash their prices, undercutting the Donovans. They’ll be driven out of business in no time.”
“Mmm hmm,” I say, staring at my phone.
Dad has sent me a link to a profile of a man named Vince Romando. He’s in his late sixties, married, and lives in Canada.
That’s not him, I quickly type back.
“Everything is falling into place,” Vince says, gazing over his charts.
“How long should it take?” I ask.
Vince cocks his head, doing mental calculations. “No longer than year. Two, maybe.”
I nod dully, and turn back to my phone. Dad’s asking for me to send the real Vince’s profile.
He’s not on social media, I write.
Old fashioned, Dad responds. I have to admire that. Guess I’ll have to meet him in person soon. As in, IRL. Did I use that right?
I’ve really done it now. Dad won’t rest until he uncovers the mystery of Vince. In what universe could I introduce my parents to the brutal mobster that I love? What does that say about our future together? Will I have to keep Vince a secret forever? How can that be sustained?
If only I had something to point to, to prove to my parents that Vince is a good guy, noble even. If we could, say, liberate those women from Unit A, that would be a start. It would also prove that I’m more than my sex, destined for something other than housework. But I don’t have one to two years to wait.
“Isn’t there any way to speed it up?” My voice is jittery with frustration.
Vince takes my hand. “There are ways, but they wouldn’t be prudent. We don’t want the Donovans to catch wind of what’s going on. Then they might have time to correct it.” He brings my hand to his mouth, kissing every one of my knuckles.
“Do your brothers know what you’re doing?” I ask.
Vince’s eyes go dark. “No. And they’re not going to.”
“Aren’t they your partners?”
“They are. But they’re bullheaded, both of them.”
I smile, coyly. “Like me?”
“You’re different. You know how to listen.”
My phone is still buzzing with texts from Dad. I slid it between the cushions.
“Do you think it’s right, keeping them in the dark?” I ask.
Vince goes quiet. He shuffles the documents back into folders, and never answers my question.
————————
I can’t sleep. The anesthesia of new love is starting to wear off, and I’m acutely aware of the challenges we face. I promised Vince that I’d be patient, and give his plan a chance. That’s what I’ll have to do.
One morning, I show up at the precinct wearing dark sunglasses and clutching an enormous coffee. Even my bright red lipstick doesn’t hide the fact that I’m tired.
“I’ll drive today,” Walter offers unexpectedly.
I’m taken off guard. I know I should be wary of this, but I’m so tired, I welcome it. Walter gets behind the wheel of the cruiser. I settle into the passenger seat, praying for a quiet day. That morning, the long, drifting hours are punctuated by calls. When Walter and I respond, I push down my lethargy and do my job to the best of my abilities. But as soon as we’re back in the car, I wear my sunglasses low over my eyes, and slump down in the seat.
Walter thinks I don’t notice that he’s driving increasingly closer to Unit A in an expanding circles around our beat. I notice. I’m just too tired to say anything. If we wind up at Unit A, I’ll just repeat my lie about the illegal hair salon. It may be ridiculous, but I have to stay consistent.
As we creep closer, Walter whistles while he drives, trying too hard to act casually. I lower my sunglasses and glare at him.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Nowhere in particular,” he shrugs.
We’re in the same district as the warehouse. Walter is driving straight for it. I’d developed a complex route that prevented anyone at the warehouse from seeing a police cruiser. I sit up straight, suddenly panicking.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Just driving.”
“Cut the shit, Walter.” My fatigue has left me with no patience for being polite. “You’re driving to Unit A. I told you nothing was going on there.”
“Then why are you getting so upset?”
Once we pass the building we’re in front of, our cruiser will be in complete view of the warehouse.
“They’re going to see us,” I implore.
“Who?” Walter asks, the word poking me between the ribs.
I respond with a sharp sigh. Walter smiles as he slows to a stop.
“So it’s not taken care of, as you say,” Walter says.
I thrust my head back, covering my face with my hands.
“It’s being taken care of,” I say. “And I’m not supposed to tell you that.
”
Walter gives me a nurturing smile. “That’s good, Redding.”
I swing my head down, bemoaning my lack of loyalty.
“Turn right here,” I say. “Before anyone sees.”
The car remains still. Walter leans forward, squinting through the windshield.
“What the hell is that?” he mumbles.
I look towards the warehouse. There’s movement around the fence. It looks like someone trying to squeeze underneath. Is it a john that’s lost his key? I watch a little longer, and see that someone’s trying to get out, not in. When the person stands up, long dark hair falls to her shoulders. She glances over her shoulder at the Unit, then launches into a desperate run.
I clutch Walter’s arm as we watch her. It’s Honor, and she’s coming towards us. Walter goes to flick on the siren, but I grab his wrist, stopping him.
“Let’s get her,” Walter says.
I shake my head, nervously. “This isn’t part of the plan.”
Walter scoffs, then points with his chin towards Honor. She’s standing in front of us in the road, waving her arms to get our attention.
“Tell her that,” Walter says.
I push the image of Vince’s face out of my mind, and jump back to my senses. Walter and I get of the car. He opens the backdoor while I go to Honor. She’s trembling when I slip my arm around her.
“I can’t stay there any longer,” she says, her voice unsteady. “I’ve been watching you, watching us. Finally, I said to myself, the next time I saw you, I was going to escape.” She blinks up at me, her deep dark eyes full of gratitude. “I waited a long time. I thought you’d given up on us. But you came.”
There’s no time to waste. I walk Honor to the police cruiser, and help her into the backseat. Walter is amped up on adrenaline. He breathes heavily and repeats, “okay,” under his breath.
I know the full story of what’s going on here, and just how much danger we could be in.
“Walter,” I say through my teeth. “Get us the hell out of here.”
Chapter Eleven
————————
Vince
Meet me at the vista point.
Accomplice: A Dark Mafia Romance (Romano Brothers Book 3) Page 9