by KD Robichaux
“God, so they’re both crazy. A match made in hell,” Chaz says, and Mom just shakes her head, wide-eyed.
“Crazy and stupid. They didn’t even bother digging into their supposed hitman’s identity. Hired the undercover cop expecting a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am of a job, washing their hands of it,” Talon tells us. “Now they’re… wherever they are, expecting a call early tomorrow morning saying the job is done. All conversations have been recorded, and there’s record of Corina transferring enough money for the hit. She and Harry will be put away for a long time.”
My brows furrow. “So she’s known about us that long? I… I thought maybe she followed him after he had her served with divorce papers the other night, when he came to my house.” I feel my face heat at the admission, remembering exactly what we had done that night.
“I guess y’all were cautious enough to not have any evidence of your relationship. Otherwise, she would’ve been able to divorce him and get everything without Harry trying to get close to Mia,” Talon points out, and I nod, grateful I had insisted on Win treating me like any other friend or employee while in public.
“How’s Winston holding up?” Mia asks after we all go quiet for a minute.
I sigh. “I talked to him right before you got here. He’s at home with his son, Nick.”
Mom gasps. “Are you telling me that woman ordered a hit on him, knowing her son would be there at his house?”
The room goes silent once again as that sinks in. Knowing Win and Nick are truly safe and in no actual danger, since the hitman wasn’t real, I guess I blocked out the fact that if he were real, that little boy would’ve woken up to his father murdered, or worse…
I don’t even want to finish that thought, suddenly nauseous. I’ve been able to keep myself from dwelling on the fact that, had the hitman not been an undercover cop setting a trap, then my mom and Chaz, my sister, my… my babies, all of us would be—
I shake my head, refusing to think it through.
In a few hours, justice will be served, and there will be nothing, nothing to stop us from finally being together.
33
Winston
At 4:00 a.m., my phone rings, and I switch my screen over to the call. It’s Officer Jameson. Corina and Harry have been arrested and are at the station. They’ve asked me to come in a few hours to give them time to stew in the interrogation rooms, and I’m all too eager to oblige.
I finally close my eyes after having stayed up all night on FaceTime with Cece. She’d put her cell on her pillow next to her in the second bedroom of her parents’ rental, and she’d finally passed out about ten minutes ago. I only ended the call to answer Jameson’s. I fall asleep, sleeping until my alarm goes off at seven.
After getting my boy off to school, him none the wiser about what went down last night—which I’ll still have to figure out how to explain, since his mom is about to go to jail for a very long time—I stand at the police station with Cobi at my side. We watch Corina through the one-way mirror as she sits up when the door to the interrogation room opens. She wrings her hands on top of the table as Detective Jameson and Detective Clarkston enter the room.
“Ma’am.” Clarkston dips his chin before taking a seat across from her, while Jameson stands near the door.
“Will someone just please tell me why I’m here?” Corina pleads, wrapping her sweater around her middle, hugging herself. “I’ve been here for hours, and no one has been in to tell me anything.” She’s so convincing it’s almost scary to watch. She truly looks like she has no clue what’s going on, and suddenly I don’t feel so stupid for having fallen for her schemes in the past.
“I’m sorry about that. It’s been a busy night,” Jameson tells her, moving his chair to the edge of the table then sitting with his elbows on his knees, bringing his body closer to her, making the situation seem more intimate. “This kind of thing is never easy.”
“What happened?” she whispers, looking between both men.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that your husband was shot at his home a few hours ago.”
“What?” She sucks in a breath, her body slumping as her eyes start to water. “Is he okay?”
It’s nauseating how good of an actress she is. If these men didn’t have all the evidence they needed, I might have worried she’d be able to convince them she couldn’t have done what she did.
“He’s dead,” Jameson adds, and she covers her face with her hands and starts to sob.
“No, no, no!” She slips off her chair and falls to her knees, resting her forehead on the floor while she screams, and Clarkston looks at the mirror, rolling his eyes. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes, the tension I’ve felt since I walked in here dissipating just a little.
“Ma’am.” Jameson touches her shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy, but I have some questions for you.”
“I don’t know anything.” She shakes her head vigorously as he helps her back into her seat, hands her a box of tissues, and waits for her to stop crying.
“Do you know a Cece Willimson?” he asks, and I narrow my eyes on her, watching her expression carefully.
“Yes, she worked with Winston. Why?” she prompts, and it makes me wonder when she even learned of her existence. She was never introduced. She only ever spoke to and threw her fits at me. How the hell did she even know of our relationship?
“We’re trying to figure out the connection to your husband’s murder and hers,” he says, then continues. “From what we were able to gather, your husband and you are no longer together. Can I ask what led to your separation?”
“Winston cheated.” She sniffles. “We were trying to work things out, but it’s not always easy to get over an affair.” My hackles rise at the lie. No way in fuck would I ever have tried to work things out with that woman.
“Is his affair what led to your relationship with Harry Charmers?” Clarkston asks, and her face goes pale as she registers what the officer said. “You two have been together for a few years now, right?”
“I…. We….” She shifts her attention back and forth between both men. “Harry and I are just friends.”
“That’s strange, because Harry is in the room across the hall, and he’s admitted your affair to us,” Clarkston states, taking on the role of bad cop as he looks down his nose at her.
The tears in her eyes seem to instantly dry up like they always did when we were together, and her lips press into a tight line before she yells, “He’s lying!”
“Was he also lying when he said it was your idea to find a hitman to murder your husband, the woman he’s been seeing, and her entire family?”
“That never happened,” she spits as the door opens again, and Ace, the undercover officer she thought was her hitman, is escorted into the room in cuffs with his head down. I met him before I came in here, thankful I was able to tell him how grateful I was for his work.
“Do you know this man?” Clarkston asks her, and I watch as panic fills her eyes.
“It wasn’t my idea!” she blurts, looking around like she’s searching for a way to escape. “Harry wanted to marry me. Winston wouldn’t divorce me no matter how much I begged him to.” The lie comes off as ridiculous as it actually is.
“I can’t believe this bitch,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. I look at Cobi, admitting the thing that’s bothering me most about this whole situation in the interrogation room. “Not fucking once has she even asked where our son is, when he was with me last night.”
“You wanna go confront her?” the captain asks from my other side, and I lift my chin in his direction. He nods and leads me out of the room.
Before the door closes, I hear Clarkson ask Corina, “And you were okay with nine people dying so you could get married?” But I don’t hear her answer as it clicks shut behind me.
“I don’t have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself, do I, Win?” the captain asks, who knows me personally from coming into my restaurant with his own
family at least once a week.
I shake my head. “I won’t do anything that would potentially keep me from my boy. And not even for murder for hire would I hit a woman.”
He nods, then opens the door.
The moment I walk in and she sees me, the color drains from her face and she looks ready to puke. “You….”
“Yeah, I’m alive.” I glare, my nostrils flaring in revulsion as she tries to stand up and walk toward me. “I wish I could say I’m surprised by your latest selfish act of desperation, but I’m not. I should also let you know, not that you give a fuck, that our son is okay.” My blood boils when she doesn’t even look a bit ashamed for not having asked once about Nick while she’s been here for hours, even after learning his father was supposedly shot in the same house where he was sleeping.
I turn for the door, then stop when she screams my name.
“Winston, stop! Please, I’m sorry!”
I don’t even dignify that by looking back at her. “Tell it to the judge, and I’ll get the divorce papers to your lawyer.” Since I’m sure she hadn’t bothered signing the copy that was served to her the other night, deciding to go looking for a hitman instead.
“With Ace’s video evidence, Harry admitting to his part, and the bank records where Corina withdrew enough money to pay for the hit, the case against both of them is solid,” the captain tells Cobi and me a minute later, and I feel all the tension leave my body, leaving only one thought in my head.
Time to go get my girl.
34
Cece
The doorbell rings, and my stomach automatically fills with dread. The last time I answered the door of my home, it was to learn there was a hit out on me and my entire family. But this time as I look through the peephole, the dread disappears and is replaced by butterflies, because standing on my front porch, unexpectedly, is Winston.
I yank open the door, a smile covering my face, because there’s only one reason he could possibly be here.
This whole ordeal is finally over.
There’s a second in which all we do is stare, taking each other in, and then I’m in his arms, mine wrapping around his neck as he lifts me off the floor and spins me around on the front porch. He holds me tight, as if he’ll never let go, and in this moment I realize he won’t ever have to again.
“It’s all over, naekkeo. She signed the divorce papers thirty minutes ago. I’m free. Finally fucking free,” he breathes into my neck, and I hear the relief in his tone.
Before I can say anything, I hear a giggle behind me, and it’s not until that moment I remember I wasn’t alone at home. “Mommy?”
I stiffen in Winston’s arms, and he sets me on my feet. I turn, placing a smile on my lips even though I’m totally caught off guard. Win keeps his arm around my waist, and while a part of me thinks I should put distance between us for this introduction, I remember how Mike introduced the girls to his girlfriend without talking about it with me, and they reacted like it was no big deal.
So keeping in mind that they’re going to feed off my energy for this monumental—at least in my mind—event, I keep my tone light and smile wider.
“Ruby, baby. I’d like you to meet Winston. He’s my… my…” I turn wide eyes to Win, not knowing what to say, but apparently my panic is for nothing.
“Is he your boooyfriend?” she drawls with a snicker, wagging her eyebrows, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“I—”
“That’s a very good question, Ruby,” Winston cuts me off, pulling me tighter to his side. “What do you say, Cece? Wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks, and I see my daughter grin so hard it looks like her face is going to split before I glance up into Winston’s mischievous smile.
Before I can answer, Ruby speaks up again. “Wait. Winston? Isn’t he the one who always cooks us all that yummy dinner you bring home, Mommy?”
I look back down at her. “It is.” I nod.
Ruby nods vigorously. “Then yes. I don’t care what she says, Mr. Winston. She’s your girlfriend if it means you’ll keep cooking for us.”
I let out a squeak of a laugh, my face incredulous, as Win chuckles beside me.
“But only if you make that spaghetti again soon. You haven’t sent that in a while, and it’s my favorite,” she adds, tapping her chin with her pointer finger.
“You have a deal,” Win says, holding his hand out to her, and she places her little hand in his palm. They shake, and she spins around, her ponytail flying out behind her, and takes off up the stairs.
I turn my narrowed eyes on him.
“One down, two to go,” he taunts, and then his lips are on mine, right there on my front porch in the middle of the afternoon for the whole world to see.
A few minutes later, Winston is sitting on one of the new barstools I picked up at Walmart for the kitchen island, and I’m adding the sugar to the tea I just made. The steam rises from the jug, and I stir it until the sugar melts, and then I take it over to the new refrigerator Talon installed a couple days ago and start to fill the gallon with cold water.
“Did the girls not go to school today? Nick doesn’t get out for another hour,” he asks, and I look at him over my shoulder.
“I was a bad mom today and let them stay home. I just… needed them close after last night, you know?” I shrug one shoulder.
“Naekkeo, that is the opposite of being a bad mom. And I completely understand. When things like that happen, when your mortality is spotlighted in a way you can’t ignore, it can affect you for quite some time,” he tells me, and it makes me feel better.
But I have to ask, “So you’ve had more than one hit put on your head in your lifetime?”
He lifts a brow, one corner of his lips turning up. “No, but being in the military, my mortality was highlighted more times than I cared to count when I was deployed.”
I squint at him. “But you were a cook,” I point out, confused, bringing the jug to the island so I can stir it.
“I was a cook in the middle of a warzone, baby. I lost track of how many times our base was either shot up or even bombed,” he explains, and my eyes go wide.
“Seriously?” I squeak.
He nods. “Seriously.”
I put the top on the jug and grab two of the six new plastic cups I got from the dollar store out of the cupboard that still needs to be painted, filling them with ice. I pour us each some sweet tea and slide one across the island to him.
“How did it affect you? I mean, since you said it can for quite some time,” I prompt, curious to delve deeper into this man’s psyche. I’ve always, always found Win interesting, fascinating really. He’s taught me so many things since I met him, and I can’t wait to learn so much more.
His eyebrows bounce once as he looks toward the ceiling then back at me. “Well, it was a major reminder that life is short. I think that’s why when Corina got pregnant, I didn’t really think it all the way through when I agreed to marry her. And when I signed the prenup. I was thinking short-term. In that moment, it was the right thing to do—at least according to her and my family. It was… like the next step, you know? I was in the military. I went to college. I opened my restaurant. I was in my thirties, so getting married and having kids was like… the next thing on the life to-do list. I did everything right, in the ‘smart’ order, or whatever.” He shakes his head and sighs.
I nod. “I can understand that.”
He looks at me closely over the rim of his cup as he takes a drink. “I guess that played a part in my pursuing you too, even though I knew it was horrible timing and could stir up a shitstorm of trouble.”
“How so?” I ask, bending at the waist and placing my elbows on the counter, lacing my fingers together.
His eyes fall to my chest before rising to my eyes once again, and I become hyper-aware of just how deep the V-neck of my comfy T-shirt is. But I don’t make a move to hide my cleavage from him, no longer worried about someone seeing us flirt. It feels… liberating.
&nbs
p; “Well, the mortality thing calling attention to how short life is. Did I really want to waste three years of my life waiting for the prenup to be null and void? I know you didn’t want me to, but I was willing to give up everything to be with you. And—”
“I couldn’t let you do that, Win—” I try to interrupt, but he cuts me off as well.
“No, no, let me finish, Cece. I know you didn’t want me to. I know that. I know the guilt would’ve eaten you alive, so I was willing to wait for you. I was going to wait it out. But in my heart, I knew I would’ve given it all up if you couldn’t wait for me. We have no idea how long we get on this earth. We have no clue if we’d even be alive when those three years were up. Did I really want to waste all that time I could’ve been spending with you?” He shakes his head. “The answer was a resounding no.”
He takes another drink of his tea, and I swallow thickly, my heart pounding at the sincerity in his words, tone, and expression. And then I realize….
“I get it,” I breathe, my brows lowering, and I look at my interlaced fingers. “All night last night, and all day today, I’ve asked myself over and over again if we’re starting this between us too quickly. If we should take it slow, ease into… an us. And over and over, I found myself throwing the idea out the window. I… I don’t want to take it slow with you, Win. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to be with you, and now that I can be, I see absolutely no reason to wait.” I tilt my head to the side then glance up to meet his eyes, which are dark with restrained desire. “A little voice tries to remind me that I need to be careful not to make the mistakes of my past, to not rush into a serious relationship with someone just so they can take care of me. But…” I shake my head, my brows furrowing with conviction. “I swear it’s not like that with you. I’m not wanting to rush this so I can be taken care of. I’ve proven I can take care of myself and my girls if I work my ass off. I’m just ready to finally be yours. And for you to finally be mine. Because I love you.”