Sugared

by Gina LaManna

  Alessandra shook her head. “I’m confronting The Zebra with this tomorrow. I’m going to get him to admit he murdered Beckett on tape.”

  “How will that change anything? Don’t risk it. Go straight to the police—tonight, if you want. “

  Alessandra’s eyes flashed in the darkness. “I’m not handing him over until he’ll be punished for Beckett’s murder.”

  “He tried to kill me. You have it all on tape. He stole things, too. They have enough to put him away for a long time.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “It’s too dangerous to go to him. He’s going to feel cornered, and he’ll do something rash. Trust me on this.”

  “You walked straight into the lion’s den the other day,” Alessandra said with a shake of her head. “I thought you’d be on my side! “

  “I am on your side, but these are your emotions talking. I want to catch Beckett’s murderer, too, but I don’t want to get anyone else hurt in the process. That would defeat the purpose. Beckett wouldn’t want that.”

  “Beckett would make sure the murderer was caught.”

  “Please, let’s go to the police. We’ll let them handle it. If we tell them what The Zebra said about Beckett, maybe they’ll reopen the case and pursue it. I’m sure they will.”

  “Maybe,” she said, but her words were clipped. “I thought you wanted to catch him.”

  “I did, but circumstances have changed.”

  “What’s changed? Beckett’s still dead, and The Zebra is still free.”

  I glanced down at my bandaged arm, then at the bag full of baby things. Resting a hand on my stomach, I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I think we should go to the police.”

  Alessandra inhaled sharply. She turned my words over quietly for a few moments, finally issuing a reluctant nod. “Fine.”

  “First thing tomorrow morning,” I said. “I promise. Come by our place, and we’ll go together. We can take it to Detective Rocha—he’ll listen.”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Alessandra agreed. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Don’t forget,” I added, hoping to end on a lighter note. “Tomorrow night the rehearsal dinner is at seven. I’m hoping you’re still up to coming!”

  “Of course,” she said. Her smile offered a soft apology. “This weekend is about you and Anthony. Oh, and by the way, I got ahold of him. I didn’t tell him about the bullet, but I did tell him you’re safe and sound and headed home.”

  “Hopefully, he doesn’t notice the gauze.”

  “I wouldn’t bank on it.”

  She laughed, and we said our goodbyes on a hug. Then, I made my way to an empty home, realizing with horror that the last time I’d spoken to Anthony had been just before I disappeared into The Violet Society’s garage...and left him in the dust. Probably, he wouldn’t be super excited to see me after that stunt.

  Maybe it would ease the tension if I called him myself, now that I wasn’t bleeding all over Carlos’s car.

  “Hi, lovebug,” I said. “How are you? I’ve got a backrub with your name on it waiting at home.”

  “Nope, your game plan is not working,” Anthony said. “I don’t love the disappearing act, Lace.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I said, sighing. “But I’m home, I’m crawling into bed, and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  Silence took over the line as Anthony wrestled with a response. When he spoke, it was a growl torn between letting me off the hook, and needing to know where I’d gone. “You vanished on me today, and I want to know why.”

  “How about I tell you at home?”

  “Lacey.”

  “How long until you’re back?”

  The car engine revved on in the background.

  “I’m on my way,” he said. “And you’d better have one incredible reason why you didn’t call all day.”

  “Oh,” I said, glancing down at my array of battle scars from the day. “I have several.”

  “Lacey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You scared the hell out of me today.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I love you, sugar.”

  “I love you too.”

  Chapter 23

  “Let go.”

  I rolled over and clutched the package tighter to my chest, unable to open my eyes. Sleep had claimed me while I waited for Anthony, and apparently I’d latched onto the baby gifts from Nora in my dreams and never let go.

  “Lacey, let go,” Anthony said. “What is this?”

  “Unhhm.”

  “In English, please.”

  Finally, through the haze of sleep, the puzzle pieces fell into place. “Anthony!” I shot up in bed, hugging the gift bag closer. “You’re home!”

  “And you’re...” His eyes lingered on the package for a long second, then flashed to my arm. “You’re hurt. Who did this to you?”

  “Anthony, wait—”

  “I asked who did this to you.”

  He’d been leaning over the bed when I’d first woken, but now he rose to his full form. If I thought I’d seen anger on his face before, I’d been wrong.

  “Please don’t—”

  “It’s a simple question.” Fury brimmed at full force behind his words. The edges of his figure practically shimmered with it, a halo of protective instincts flared and readied for battle. “I’ll ask you one more time. Who did this?”

  This wasn’t the way I’d wanted the evening to begin. I’d wanted to celebrate in the news of the baby, to hug Anthony and have him hold me back. To have him reassure me that everything would be okay, and to confirm my feelings that this news was very, very good.

  He leaned in, and I could sense the anger radiating from him—could practically smell it. I’d never seen him in a rage like this, and I wanted to stop it, at least for now.

  “Let me get this straight,” Anthony said. “You disappeared from me. Where to? Did Alessandra find The Violet Society headquarters?”

  “How do you know?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I know. Alessandra and Beckett were in love, and now she’s got a bone to pick with whoever murdered Beckett. What I don’t appreciate is her dragging my wife into her little vengeance plan, especially when it’s my wife who ends up injured. Is that a bullet wound?”

  I hesitated, then nodded slowly. “It just grazed my arm.”

  He turned on his heel and stomped toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” I called after him.

  “I’m talking to my sister.”

  “Anthony, please, wait.”

  “Then I’m going to come back here, and you’re going to fill me in on everything. This is over. Understood?”

  “I understand,” I said softly. I had no steam left, no fight in me. I didn’t want to argue tonight, or to worry about revenge or death or murder.

  Anthony didn’t seem to hear me, however, because he continued. “I’m not asking you, I’m telling...hold on, did you just agree with me?”

  “I’m tired, Anthony. I don’t want to argue.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You never agree so easily.”

  “Well, I did.”

  “Lacey, what’s wrong?” The flaming rage around him flashed brighter, then sizzled to a low burn. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “It’s not Alessandra’s fault. It was my idea to chase The Zebra down in the first place. Don’t blame her for this. I begged her to take me to The Violet Society, and I definitely went of my own free will.”

  Anthony eased his large figure onto the bed, digesting my words. Chewed on them a minute, and then let them go. “You’re not telling me something.”

  “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” The alarm grew in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Tears pricked at my eyes, and I slowly unfolded the gift bag I’d held tight to my chest. I extended it to Anthony. “Here. Open this.”

  Anthony took the package, but
he barely looked at it. A concerned cloud settled over his face as he watched my expressions change, the tears pooling in my eyes.

  “Don’t cry, Lacey. I’m sorry that I upset you.” He reached out, guiding me into a sitting position at the back of the bed. He moved beside me and let the gift bag fall to the ground as the bed indented from his weight. “I’m not angry with you. I’m sorry if it sounded like that. I’m only frustrated because you’re injured, and that makes me feel helpless.”

  I leaned against his arm. “I shouldn’t have disappeared on you today, but I thought I had to. For Beckett. He was our friend, and I just want to bring his murderer to justice.”

  “Why are you so damn nice?” Anthony’s arm came around my shoulders and pulled me tight to his chest. “If you didn’t care so much, we wouldn’t have these issues. If you’d only wanted to become an accountant, our life would be so much easier.”

  I laughed, hiccupped once as we curled together. “If it helps, the whole thing wasn’t in vain. Alessandra recorded the exchange with The Zebra,” I said, quickly filling him in on the events of the day. “We’re going to give the tape to the police tomorrow, and then I’m done with it.”

  “You sound so sure about that.”

  “Whatever happens, I am done with it. I promise you.”

  “That’s not like you.” Anthony’s hand came up, brushed my cheek, and tilted my chin to look into his eyes. “You never promise to be done with something until everything is locked and tied up with a bow. What did The Zebra do to you?”

  “Nothing. Well, nothing besides this.” I showed him my bandaged arm. “But that’s it. He’ll go to jail, and I won’t ever see him again.”

  “You’re still not telling me something.”

  “You’re right. Open the bag. It fell to the floor.”

  Anthony allowed himself a brief smile. He lifted the bag onto his lap, but then turned his attention to me for another moment before opening it. “Do you trust me?” he asked. “That I wasn’t upset with you?”

  “You’re allowed to be upset with me,” I said. “I avoided you today. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No. You’re right, but I understand why you did it. I was never angry with you trying to help our friend, just worried. Scared. When you do things like that, and you go off the grid, what am I supposed to think?”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. I’m sorry I came off angry at you.” His fingers dug into my side as he held me closer. “My frustration came out on the wrong person.”

  “You’re going to...uh, find The Zebra tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  Anthony’s fingers traced a pattern over my bandages. “I won’t stand for this.”

  “He’s going to jail.”

  “He hurt the woman I love more than anything. I don’t have a choice.”

  “You do have a choice.”

  “Feel free to turn in your recording to the police. He’ll be lucky if the police find him before I do.”

  “Don’t go now. Stay with me tonight. Forget about him, my arm, everything. Just stay here with me, and be next to me, and hug me.”

  I rested my hands on his, which were still snug around me. He looked down, expelling a breath as he looped his fingers through mine.

  “If you do, I promise that tomorrow, I won’t ask questions when you leave, or when you return. So long as you get home before seven p.m. because we have a rehearsal dinner, and Nora won’t care how good your excuse is if you’re late.”

  “Understood.”

  Anthony leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. The gentleness of the moment led my already shaky emotions into rougher waters. His lips found mine, teased me with their warmth.

  The tender moment ached with all of the emotions hidden behind his anger. Love and loyalty, fear and respect. And desire, buried beneath the others, but emerging quickly.

  The gift bag slipped from the bed once more, and I debated reaching for it, but then Anthony’s arms circled me, slid me lower and lower onto the bed until my head rested on the pillows, and his body perched over me. He was majestic, sort of like the Lion King—all proud and tall and strong.

  I let my hand run over his arms, down to his waist, toying with the edge of his jeans. Which was exceedingly difficult, seeing as my other hand was a dead weight underneath all the gauze. I couldn’t get that arm to do much of anything at all.

  “Relax,” Anthony said, pressing me to the bed. “And stay still.”

  Then he kissed me again, my vision went blurry, then black, and then sizzled into fireworks. By the time Anthony held me in his arms, I was too tired, too happy to think. With his breath on my neck and his warmth against my back, we drifted to sleep.

  Chapter 24

  “Lacey.”

  “Unhnn.”

  “Lacey, what the hell is this?”

  I forced myself to roll over at Anthony’s alarmed tone, fumbling through the sheets in terror as I yelped a greeting. “What’s wrong?”

  I found Anthony standing next to the bed, wearing only his boxer briefs and looking fabulous. It was hard to imagine that anything was wrong at all with a body like that. I greedily watched as he stared at the ground, ran a hand across his forehead, his abdomen rippling with the motion.

  He bent over, and the view only got better. I rubbed my hands together in faux anticipation. “Looking good,” I said. “To what do I owe this viewing pleasure?”

  He snapped to attention, his face turning a hint of red. “This.” Anthony pinched an article of clothing between his fingers, and then tossed it onto the bed. “And this. And this. And...this.”

  I glanced down at four tiny outfits on the bed. Two sets of little boy clothing, and two sets of girl things. All of the gifts from Nora spread out before us. They must have fallen out of the package when Anthony’s elbow bumped it off the bed last night.

  Anthony spoke in a razor-sharp voice. “Why do you have four sets of clothing for Arnold?”

  “Arnold?”

  “Baby Arnold.”

  “Oh, no, Anthony. Those aren’t for Arnold.”

  Anthony shook his head, his eyes not quite understanding. “I thought we gave Arnold back to the school? For good. I thought we were rid of the alien baby.”

  “We did, we are, but—”

  “I can’t handle another Arnold.”

  “They’re not for Arnold! They’re for us.”

  “Those aren’t going to fit either of us.”

  “Anthony.”

  I rose to my knees and shuffled my way across the bed. Unlike him, I didn’t possess endless amounts of grace, so it was more like a crippled rabbit hopping across the sheets, especially with my bum arm.

  When I reached the other side, I rested my hands against his bare chest, and a sudden flash of excitement tore through me out of nowhere. I’d been nervous before, and unsure. But seeing the outfits, having Anthony in my grasp, suddenly made everything very real.

  “Lacey...” A light flickered in the back of his eyes, as if he was beginning to put a solution together for the question hanging between us. “What do you mean these are for us?”

  “The test I took the other day was wrong.” I tugged on his wrist, since I figured he might want to be sitting down for this. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

  Anthony fell to the bed with a thud, his eyes glassy and not quite understanding. “But I thought the test—”

  “It was wrong,” I said, faltering just slightly. “Dr. Gambino confirmed it. That’s why I’ve been throwing up so much. Morning sickness.”

  “But I thought it was the boat—sea sickness, and shock, and—”

  “I thought so, too.”

  Anthony blinked three distinct times and shook his head. Then he looked down at the clothes like it was his turn to puke. “But how?”

  “How what?” I gave him an odd expression. “I’m pretty sure you know how this happened.”

  “No. How are there four?” He looked at m
e, then at my stomach. He gently reached out his fingers and pressed them against my abdomen, testing it. Looking as if I’d told him a UFO lived in there, and he wasn’t quite sure if he believed me. “Four?”

  I burst into laughter at his horrified expression. “No, not four. There’s only one.”

  “One Arnold.”

  “One baby,” I corrected. “Arnold wasn’t a real baby.”

  “But he was practice, and I almost killed him.”

  “Anthony.” I scooted over so I was in his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist as I faced him. His arms came up behind me, circled my lower back and came to rest. “You are going to be a dad.”

  Finally, I got through to him. His reaction was delayed another few seconds, but when the message finally clicked, he gave me a cautious smile. Then a bigger one, and then finally a full-blown grin. “A dad?”

  “Yes!”

  His grin turned into a dazed sort of confusion as he shook his head. “I don’t know what to say,” he said, and there was a snag in his voice. A definite warble to his words.

  That took me by surprise. I’d never seen Anthony hindered by emotions. Never choked up, never crying, never seeming to feel much of anything at all, except the occasional burst of desire, or anger, or love. But never this.

  So, I took charge in the only way I knew how. I raised my mouth to his, the softest of kisses pressed there. Easing him from confusion back to reality, I drew him into the present—to the fact he and I were in this together, a pair, just like always—and that it would be us, no matter what.

  At some point, Anthony reacted, and he began to take charge. He might’ve been too dazed to put his thoughts into words, but he responded to my touch, my lips, and kissed with every ounce of himself until I could barely breathe.

  I fell into him—his caresses, his whispers, the love so clear in every breath. He drew us together, erasing the outside world as he locked eyes with mine. An unspoken expression passed between us, a blip of fear, and then the understanding that, although things might change, this—us—would be forever.

  With painstaking care, he undressed me bit by bit, his lips leaving treasure trails of dusted kisses across my body as he went. Gently, he tucked my injured arm against my side before joining me under the covers. His fingers reached for my good hand, cementing our fingers together against the pillow.