Out of Time (Fall of the Morelli Crime Family #3)

10. Chapter 10

ten

Bianca

L eaving Mark yesterday afternoon was harder than the first time. With my confusion over my father and family, it wasn’t so clear cut. If “Family First” meant something different to Carlo Morelli than it did to me, why did I continue to stand by it?

But all I had was an uneasy pit in my stomach and some suspicions. I didn’t know the truth.

And it was hard to ignore what I’d been brought up believing. If I wanted to stand by my, albeit broken, family, I shouldn’t spend time with Mark. I shouldn’t want to spend time with Mark. Calling him yesterday was a fluke. I needed to ask him a question, and when I got the answer I’d never see him again.

My heart stuttered and I felt moisture building in my eyes, but forced the tears back. That was life; moments of happiness and misery, so I just needed to move on.

I spent all of Wednesday in a mood, and it wasn’t fun. I headed to the community center, wanting to contribute something good to the world. I usually only volunteered on Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, but there was always something to help with.

When I got there and saw all the lights out in the field, I remembered why I usually skipped Wednesdays: it was Youth Sports Night. The center ran a baseball league in the spring and summer that played games on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings. I was not Sporty Spice, more of a Reader Spice, and I already dedicated my Saturdays to working the concession stand for the masses; I normally couldn’t imagine dealing with sport enthusiasts who expected me to understand the rules and terminology twice in one week, but I needed the distraction tonight.

I entered the main lobby, planning to just cut through to the baseball pitch behind the building, but someone saying my name made me pause and look over at the reception desk.

Mark was there talking to the receptionist. About me.

“I know she doesn’t usually volunteer on Wednesdays, but I’m hoping I can leave a note for her when she comes in on Friday,” he was telling Amy, who looked smitten just being in his presence. He was really handsome, and his smile made you think you were the only woman in the world. Amy obviously agreed.

But then Mark’s gaze slipped over to me, his eyes lighting up when he saw me, even as he kept his distance.

I waved, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He said his goodbyes to Amy and headed over to me, silently offering his arm as he walked me out the door. Once we were out of sight around the corner, he halted our steps and handed me a sealed envelope—he’d come prepared to drop off the note for me, my name written clearly in all caps.

I slipped a finger inside, sliding it along to open the seal, ripping the envelope open.

DITCH THE WATCH, BEE.

I held my breath for a moment, the pure sadness filling me to the core. My own father was spying on me. Oh dear god.

HE CAN HEAR EVERYTHING.

Oh thank god. If he had been listening in then I probably passed whatever freaking test this was. If he’d been tracking my location and knew I went to a police officer’s apartment I’d probably be ostracized from the family.

I looked up at Mark, gesturing with my hands for a pen. He nodded, fishing one out of his pocket. I held the paper up to the wall to write a response on the note, showing it to Mark.

I’ll take care of it. Give me five minutes and then meet me at the concession stand.

He nodded, and I left at a near run, heading down to the baseball pitch, keeping a bright smile plastered on my face. I waved at some cute kids I recognized from other activity nights and headed to the concession stand.

I waved at Mariela, having already seen her husband hanging out with Sofia and the other kids in the stands. “I’m your help tonight. Where do you want me?”

“Oh thank goodness!” she sighed, the relief palpable. She usually manned the stand alone on Wednesdays. “Do you want to work the register or prep?”

Glad she asked, I told her I’d work with the food. “Let me just wash my hands first and grab some gloves.”

She waved me off, pulling out the till to count the drawer before we opened up for the night. I headed to a handwash sink, putting my watch hand directly under the spray as I slowly wet my hands, soaped, and rinsed. Then I smashed my wrist as hard as I could against the metal rectangle that held all the paper towels before grabbing a couple to dry my hands with.

“Damn, I hit my watch. Just my luck,” I said, perhaps a little too loudly. Mariela glanced over at me, giving a sympathetic shrug, but didn’t move her focus from her counting like a responsible adult. Good. “I think I’ll just take it off so I don’t keep doing that all night.”

Mariela nodded, acknowledging my words, and moved on to the coins in her drawer. I set the watch on the counter before putting on a pair of disposable gloves. I went about my business, making sure the fryer was turned on and the nacho cheese heating up properly, the ice cream and sno-cone machines working properly. Good. Everything was ready. Mariela already set up most of the stuff before I got there.

While she was immersed in counting out pennies, I carefully nudged my watch closer to the edge of the counter and went into the back to grab another jumbo-sized tin of nacho cheese. “Think we’ll go through another one of these tonight?” I called to her.

“Absolutely. There’s something about baseball and nachos, chica.”

“Good,” I said, dropping all six pounds and 11 ounces down hard on the watch, crushing the delicate mother-of-pearl face. I cringed, the lover of timepieces in me appalled at myself, but knowing it needed to be done. “Shit!”

Mariela glanced up. “Oh no! Is the watch alright?!” But sweet Mark also burst in at my exclamation, having been listening in without a hint of subtlety, I’m sure, and scared the shit out of Mariela. “Oh my god!”

I moved the can, a nice big dent along the bottom rim now, and for good measure, I “accidentally” elbowed the watch into the fryer. No, the watch definitely wasn’t alright anymore.

“He’s fine, Mariela, he’s with me,” I reassured her now that the watch was history. The poor, beautiful golden filagree wouldn’t be damaged for another thousand points on the temperature scale, but 350 degrees would be enough to damage the computer chip if the water and crushing hadn’t done the job yet. I looked at Mark and saw his small nod and hint of a smile.

Mariela kept a hand against her heart, still a little tense from the large man bursting into our closed stand.

“Sorry,” Mark told her, turning on that charm that was so natural to him. “I heard Bee curse and worried something was wrong,” he explained with a sheepish smile and shrug, looking like such a big kid that Mariela was instantly taken with him.

“It’s alright, I was just surprised. Are you our Bee’s new boyfriend?” she asked, looking back and forth between us.

“Not exactly,” I said, avoiding Mark’s eyes. “Mark is looking into volunteering in the neighborhood more. I offered to let him follow me around tonight to see what he thought. Mark, this is Mariela.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mark acknowledged. “I know Bee spends a lot of time here and thought I’d see what all the fuss was about. Maybe you’ll convert me. I've got a thing for pussycats so I was leaning toward working with the humane society on weekends.”

“Yup,” I said, hurrying to change the subject. “So first thing’s first. Go wash your hands. And if you’re wearing a watch, take it off first. Apparently this concession stand is a menace for ornamental jewelry.”

Mariela laughed. “Yeah, and get some more nacho cheese from the back. We have to nix the fries for tonight until we clean out the fryer so we’ll need to bring out a second crockpot to heat more cheese up.”

I laughed with her, but still felt bad about the unexpected consequence. Mark gave my back a pat and my hand a reassuring squeeze before he turned on the water. It seemed impossible that he knew me well enough to understand my guilt, but he did. He knew every piece of me. I took a deep swallow to get my feelings under control, then turned the fryer off and headed into storage for the second crockpot.

Mark joined me a moment later, grabbing me around the waist and pressing me up against the wall. I expected him to kiss me, but he wouldn’t do that without my express permission. He just held me tight, reaching down to wrap my legs around his waist and leaned his entire weight against me. I folded my arms tightly around his neck, enjoying the feeling of being held. After a couple of seconds, he took a deep breath and spoke into my ear. “You okay? You scared me when you screamed.”

“I’m okay,” I reassured him, running my fingers through his wavy hair. I’d need to get new gloves after this. “The watch is gone, and any audio they got before that would prove it was damaged on accident. It’s good. I’m fine.”

He pulled back to look in my eyes and I could read his expression as easily as if he’d said the words: No, you’re not, but I’ll let you pretend you are.

I matched his wistful smile, and loosened my arms and legs enough so he knew to set me back on my feet.

“Can you tell me details now?”

He shook his head. “Too much. Later.”

I nodded, grabbing the crockpot and gesturing to the big cans of nacho cheese on the shelf next to us. Mark, ever the gentleman, took the crockpot from me so my hands were empty.

“Fine, fine. You get it all,” I told him, using my full volume as I headed back out of storage.

Mariela was smiling indulgently at me as she opened the padlock that closed the stand to customers, rolling up the metal screen. There was a line forming outside already. Her eyes drifted to Mark as he emerged behind me, crockpot under one arm, two large cans stacked together in the other.

“You sure are helpful for someone who isn’t a boyfriend or brother,” she smirked at him, eyes wicked when they glanced back at me. I shrugged, a blush on my cheeks, looking for the cord to plug in when Mark set my crockpot down.

“Who says I don’t want to be a boyfriend?” Mark teased, smirking back at Mariela. “Tell me. Is she dating anyone?” I wanted to roll my eyes.

“Not right now. But you’re on the right path volunteering here and with the Humane Society. She totally goes for goody-goody types.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with this conversation,” I said, blushing again while I rewashed my hands. “I think we should talk about something else.”

“Whatever you say, HoneyBee,” Mark whispered as he sidled up behind me, allegedly to wash his hands again, too. Goosebumps rose on my neck.

“Aw, Bee, you’re a goner,” Mariela laughed, before turning her attention to the first person in line. “What can I get you hon? Our fryer is down so no fries or chicken tenders tonight.”

I tuned out everything as best as I could, just focusing on filling orders for customers. An hour later, things were finally slowing down. We just finished the seventh inning stretch rush and were taking a moment to stretch and hydrate as well.

“You two should head out. We’re slow enough now.”

“No, I couldn’t leave you by yourself!” I exclaimed. The after-game rush would be hectic as hell.

“You absolutely can. You’re not even on the schedule tonight. I can finish up by myself. That’s how it was going to be before you came in anyway.”

“But—”

“Shoo!” she said, grabbing up my tote from under the counter and pushing me out the door before turning to Mark. “And you!”

“Yes, ma’am?” he asked, charming her again with his smile. Mariela tried to glare for a moment, but couldn’t keep the amusement in.

“You…Just…Use a condom.” Mark burst out laughing at the advice she finally settled on.

“Mariela!” I cried, incredulous, as a kid waited patiently for Mariela to take her order at the counter.

“I’m not kidding,” Mariela said, giving the little girl a one-moment gesture before turning back to Mark. “Condoms are your best friend against unwanted pregnancy. Bee’s a little young to start a family.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” I pouted. Not that anything I said mattered.

“Exactly, still a baby.” I rolled my eyes. “Science lesson, kids: pulling out doesn’t guarantee anything. That’s how Ben and I got Babies Two and Four. Use a condom.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Mark whispered in my ear before responding at full volume. “Gotcha, Mariela. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then he put a hand on the small of my back and led me away. I could hear the little girl placing her order as we walked off. “Can I have a soft pretzel and a Snickers? What’s a condom?”

I met Mark’s eyes, but couldn’t keep the laughter in when Mark barked out a guffaw. I walked faster, grabbing Mark’s hand to pull him along when he doubled over, laughing.

We made it back to the parking lot, and I paused by my car, a twelve-year-old silver Audi A7, still sleek and sexy despite her age. She was a gift from my dad on my sixteenth birthday, and I never felt the need to upgrade when I had a perfectly good car that was already paid off. I was a sensible mafia princess, if nothing else. I rolled my eyes.

“Do you want me to drive?” he asked, the amusement gone from his eyes. I sighed, but nodded, handing him the keys. I wanted nothing to do with this car anymore.

“How did you get here?” I asked as he helped me into my seat.

“Lucas dropped me off,” he said, checking to make sure my legs and skirt were tucked safely inside before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. It took him a few seconds to adjust the seat to fit his longer legs, and he continued while the seat slowly shifted backwards. “He was just going to wait while I left the note for you and then take me home after, but I told him to take off when I saw you were here after all.”

I nodded, resting my hands in my lap while we reversed out of the parking spot and headed toward the main road. “And how did you know this was where I worked?”

“Process of elimination, baby,” he said, one hand leaving the gearshift and sliding over to my thigh. I put both of my hands over his, holding him to me. “I knew you worked the Youth Art Night on Mondays, led the Brownie Scouts on Tuesdays, and tutored on Fridays. This community center was the only place that had those activities on those days, all in the same place.”

I nodded again. He was a detective, after all.

I waited a beat, absorbing the cold, strange feeling I got sitting in my once beloved Audi.

“I think I hate this car,” I whispered.

My father, the man who gave me this car, was spying on me. He used his position of power to force teenage girls to sleep with him. Who knew what else he did? Why was I ever loyal to a man like that? How could I ever prioritize his wants and needs over my own?

Mark jerked his head over to me for a moment before turning his gaze back to the road. He flexed his hand against my leg, fingers digging into my skin through the material of my skirt. “Do you want to vent, or do you want me to change the subject so you can laugh?”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “You just asking is enough. It’s fine. The car doesn’t matter.”

“I beg to differ. If you think the car is an issue, I think we should work on that together. Would you like this car again if I drove us out of the city and threw you in the backseat to fuck you bareback until you can’t walk?”

I gasped, my hand stilling on his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be a gentleman. I’ll buy you a nice dinner first.” He was smiling, joking.

I wasn’t.

“You can buy me dinner after.”

He laughed, glancing from me to the road before doing a double take, eyebrow raised high.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” I confirmed for him.

“Well okay then,” he said, glancing around at his surroundings before shifting gears and pressing on the accelerator, heading toward the 101 and out of the city.