Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Valentina
My phone rings out at dawn like a bomb going off.
I’m ripped out of a lovely dream of swimming in cool, sweet tea while Deuce presses me against a wall with his big dick.
It’s cruel to wake a woman from a dream like that.
It’s especially cruel when I see it’s Bettina calling.
My hand slaps down on the phone and I snatch it under the covers, getting it mostly near my ear.
“Hello?” I croak. I pull the phone away from my mouth to clear my throat.
“Valentina,” Bettina snaps with her cool efficiency that made her the Mafia Maven.
My eyes fly open, now fully awake. My heart hammers like it always does when Bettina turns her attention my way. She’s always demanded excellence from those around her, and I’ve always turned myself inside out to give it to her. She adopted me, after all. I owe her.
“Good morning,” I reply, pushing myself up to a seated position with my back to the headboard. Damn. Every muscle in my body is sore. Being on my feet for twelve hours straight yesterday isn’t for the weak.
“Things here are more extensive than originally thought. Your replacement let things get a little slack.”
There’s judgement in her tone, so much so I flinch, even though I’m not the one she’s referencing.
“That’s not good,” I say weakly.
“If you want things done right, you have to do it yourself.” She sniffs loudly into the phone, echoing a similar thought to the one I was having leading up to the Battle of the Boutiques. “Any further escalation there?”
I shake my head. “No. Haven’t seen the sedan or the man since.”
“Keep your guard up regardless. You’ll be there another month at least.”
My mouth pops open. Another month? At the beginning of all this, Bettina had inferred it would only be a few weeks, two months at most. Things really must be complicated if she needs another month to wrestle back control.
“Oh. Okay.”
The idea of staying in Heaven longer rolls around in my brain. It was a shocking idea at first, but now it sounds quite nice. I can go to a football game. Feel the harsh summer heat and humidity start to fade into a mild fall of leaves turning colors.
More time with Deuce.
Bettina’s still talking, but I miss the first half as I envision Deuce taking me for a drive to see the autumn leaves. I tune back in when she drops another bomb.
“When you come back, I want you to take charge again.”
“No. Bettina, no.” I swing my legs out of bed and stand, wincing as my feet scream at me to stay off them. “I don’t want to.”
There’s a charged silence on the other end of the phone. I realize with a growing sense of dread that I’ve never told Bettina no. Everything she’s asked me to do over the years, I’ve done.
But I don’t want to do that.
I retired for a reason. Until I get a handle on these panic attacks, I can’t risk having one at an inopportune time and endangering people’s lives.
Plus, the idea of returning to that life is starting to feel more and more like hell.
Now that I’ve had a glimpse of a normal life here in Heaven, I don’t want to return to all that.
“We’ll speak about this later. In the meantime, I’ll handle things here. Like I always do.”
Bettina hangs up on me before I can thank her or give her reasons as to why my return is not a good idea. I stare at the phone in my hand and then flop back on the bed. That was way too much drama for this early in the morning.
“Knock, knock.”
Deuce’s voice has my eyes opening again. He pushes open the door, dressed in boxers and nothing else. He’s a sight to behold. It hits me with striking clarity that he’s wasted his life modeling suits when he should have been an underwear model.
“My eyes are up here,” he says with a playful tone.
My gaze snaps up to his face and away from everything else I was ogling. He’s smirking at me, well aware the effect he has on women. He’s also holding a tray and the scent of pancakes and bacon hits my nose. My stomach growls as I sit up.
“Please tell me that’s for me.”
His smirk turns to a real smile as he sets the tray down on the bed and climbs on top of the comforter. The tray is covered in plates and food and even a single yellow rose in a bud vase. “I thought we could have breakfast in bed and celebrate a job well done yesterday.”
I snatch a piece of bacon off the plate and munch on it. The salty goodness hits my tongue and my eyes slide shut to savor it. “Oh my God.”
“Almost as good as that orgasm I gave you in the storage room, amiright?”
My eyes fly open again and I chuck the bacon at Deuce’s head. He roars with laughter and deflects the flying breakfast meat, which makes the edges of my mouth tip up despite myself.
“I hope they accidentally give you decaf next time you go to Cloud Nine.”
Deuce just laughs harder while I snatch another piece of bacon off the plate and shove it in my mouth. “My girl Amanda would never do me dirty.”
I roll my eyes and pour a healthy stream of maple syrup over one of the stacks of pancakes. “You’re gonna fall head over heels in love with a woman some day and piss her off something fierce with this ‘my girl’ business.”
Deuce takes the syrup from me and pours it on the other plate of pancakes. His voice comes out soft and deep and carrying not one trace of the levity from before.
“When I fall head over heels in love with a woman, she’ll never have a moment of jealousy. She’ll know I’m devoted entirely to her.”
A shiver runs through me. What would it be like to be the center of Deuce’s attention? It would probably be lovely. Warm. Exhilarating. And if I keep thinking about it, it’s going to make me sad. And I don’t have time to be sad. Not today. Not ever.
We both eat our pancakes in silence. My stomach is a black hole of hunger, probably because I forgot to eat yesterday with all the nerves about pulling off the event.
When I finally set my fork down and go back to the plate of bacon, Deuce scoots back to lean against the headboard, his long muscular legs stretched out in front of him.
“You know, we should put our competition behind us.”
I blink in surprise, my mouth full. I chew, wondering where this is coming from. When I swallow and wipe my hands on a linen napkin he included on the tray, I scoot backward to sit next to him.
“What do you mean?”
He huffs a little. “You can’t deny we’re always trying to one-up each other.” When I shrug noncommittally, he scoffs and keeps going. “We’d be a force to reckon with if we joined forces instead of competing.”
I think about it, a world in which he and I were a team instead of always fighting. He’s not wrong. A Valentina Rossi–Deuce St. Legare team would kick ass.
“Hmm,” I answer, still not ready to agree to something so crazy. “I’m not exactly good with cooperation and teamwork.”
Just admitting what we both already know is a step in the teamwork direction. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I initially thought.
Deuce grabs my hand and envelops it in both of his. “We could learn together. The Deuce-Valentina team.”
I’m already shaking my head. “The Valentina-Deuce team.”
He rolls his eyes. “No way. If anyone shortens it, we’d be screwed. I’m not going to be the VD team.”
I frown, then my brain catches on. I have to laugh at that. “Okay, so we should choose a name that doesn’t invoke sexually transmitted diseases. I agree with you.”
Deuce’s face lights up and he squeezes my hand. “Look at that! We’re already working well as a team.”
My phone dings once, then twice. I pull my hand from Deuce’s and grab it off the bed. “It’s a group text. Wait. Why am I on the group text?”
I hold my phone out to Deuce, who reads the messages from his friends.
He just shrugs, clearly unaffected. “Well, you’re part of the group.
Why wouldn’t you be added? And text back that it’s fine they all come over after church.
That gives us enough time to go for a run, shower, and whip up some food. ”
Deuce gets off my bed to clean up the breakfast tray while I text back. I set my phone down and watch him walk out.
What is going on?
Breakfast in bed with Deuce while we promise to work together? His friends are now my friends?
Bettina better hurry and fix things in New York. If I stay in Heaven any longer, I may never want to leave…
The nachos we made weren’t really necessary. Everyone came over with a dish like it was the most natural thing in the world to show up with unplanned food. It must be a Southern thing.
Deuce slings his arm over my shoulder and whispers in my ear as his—sorry, our—friends all assemble in the living room, loudly talking about all kinds of things.
“Proud of you, V. You’ve made friends and haven’t stabbed even one of them.”
I jab him hard enough in the ribs he has to let me go. All heads eventually turn in our direction, even with little Harlow babbling in the background while she throws dolls across the rug. Yes, Deuce keeps dolls here at his house just for Harlow. I refuse to think about how sweet that is.
“So, what’s the deal? Is your name Valentina?” Silas says, taking the lead. “’Cause I gotta say, that suits you better than Landry.”
I tip my head. “Why’s that?”
Silas just shrugs. “I’ve never met a sharpshooter named Landry is all.”
I can’t help but grin. Yeah, I did kick their asses out on the range. Deuce puts his arm back around my shoulder and faces the group.
“Let me explain.”
And then he does, telling them absolutely everything. Well, almost everything. He left out the sex in his car and storage room. Oh, and the stabbing when we were seventeen. Which I’ll have to thank him for. He’s really painting me in a nice light in front of these people.
“Dude, that’s freaking awesome.” Betsy stands up when Deuce is done and gives me a high five. “Does the mob have, like, a special handshake or something you can teach us?”
I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “No, but we do have a blood oath.”
I reach under my skirt for my knife. I barely get it in my hand before Deuce is pulling it away from me. He dumps it in the drawer of the coffee table and shuts it while giving me “the look.” The one that says “behave yourself.”
Silas jumps up and pulls Betsy away from me. I hold my hands up.
“I was just kidding.”
Betsy’s grinning at me like we just became besties. Silas’s smile is a little more waxy, like he’s not sure about me yet and will do everything in his power to keep his wife away from me until he figures me out.
Mary London sways back and forth with the baby sleeping on her shoulder. “Hey, I think I saw that guy you’re talking about. He wasn’t from around here and he looked suspicious in his T-shirt and jeans. Who doesn’t wear a polo?”
Indeed. Every man around here either wore a button-down or a polo shirt when out and about.
“When did you see him?” Deuce asks.
“On Thursday. I went out to lunch with my girlfriends and he was coming out of the bookstore.”
Deuce and I look at each other. I know exactly what he’s thinking. We’d hoped no further violence meant he’d left town. I guess not.
“Maybe with all of us watching, we can catch him.” Rhett stands up and takes the baby off Mary London. “Do you have a picture of his car or anything?”
Deuce holds up his finger, then heads for the kitchen where we have a printout from the security camera.
He comes back with the pictures and passes them around the living room.
Rhett and Silas take pictures with their cell phones, then devise a schedule for the next week of being around town and driving by Saint’s Suits.
Mary London leaves for a second, then comes back with beers for the guys and mocktails for the girls, passing them out. “Sounds like you might need the alcoholic version, honey.” She pats my arm with a warm smile, not at all mad that we lied to them about my identity for weeks now.
“You’re not upset we lied?”
Betsy and Mary London just laugh. “Girl, half the town lies about who they are. Everyone’s dressing a part.
Wearing fancy church clothes when they’re cheating on their spouse.
Would we rather you be honest? Definitely.
But we can see why you lied. Now that we know the truth, we can all pitch in and keep you safe. ”
I stare at these two women, both of whom have babies and responsibilities and a life to lead that doesn’t include babysitting a woman they barely know. It amazes me how they’ve just welcomed me in, no questions asked.
Frankly, it’s bizarre.
“You’re not afraid I’ll bring danger to your town?”
Mary London winks. “You went to the range with the wrong people, darlin.’ Betsy and I are the sharpshooters around here. We can protect our own just fine, don’t you worry your pretty lil’ head.”
Well, fuck.
I really like these women.
I hold up my mocktail can and they raise theirs, all of us grinning at the knowledge that we’re not weak little ladies who need saving.
And then I switch to beer to avoid those sickly sweet mocktails.