“Yes, that was what I was wondering. Looks like you prefer semi-precious gemstones in large, arty styles. Is that right?”
“Yeah.” Color me impressed. “That’s pretty good.”
He blows on his nails and buffs them. “See? Some assholes still know how to pay attention.”
I pick up a pillow and toss it in his face, but he catches it easily. “Uh oh. Now you’re in trouble.” He lunges to catch me around the waist and gives my ass a slap.
“No fair!” I laugh.
“Mmm hmm. You mess with the bull, you get the horns.” He releases me and holds two fingers up to his head.
I giggle.
He picks up his gun from the dresser. “Listen. I’m going to leave this here for you. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone and unprotected.” He points a finger at me. “And I did mean it about you locking the door.”
“I appreciate the concern, but—”
“I’m leaving the gun. Do you know how to use it?”
I nod. “Yeah. My dad taught me. But I don’t need a gun here, Joey.”
He ignores me. “I’m putting it up here.” He reaches for a high corner shelf in my closet. “It’s loaded, and the safety’s on.”
“But what will you use?”
“I think I can find another one,” he says drily.
Right. Of course.My skin turns ice cold, the reality of keeping guns in my house, of keeping men who use guns in my house—chilling. No matter how sweet his words or hot the sex, I can’t forget who or what Joey LaTorre is: a Made Man in the mafia. A killer. The kind of guy who winds up in jail or dead—just like my dad.
“I have to go, but I’ll pick you up Sunday for the barbecue, okay?” He loops an arm behind my back and gives me a kiss.
The barbecue. Fuck.
I want to say no, but Joey’s been so amazing, it feels mean to deny him.
“Yeah, okay.” I give him one more kiss before he leaves.
Ugh. What did I just commit myself to? Don Alberto senior is dead, but his son, Joey’s brother, Al, will be there. And all the men my dad worked with. The ones he considered family.
Seeing Joey triggered unresolved grief in me. Will seeing them dredge up even more?
I hate the cold, swimming-eel feel in my belly as I think about it.
Joey
Sophie seems nervous as we drive to Al’s for the barbecue. She fingers the large blue opal pendant I bought her yesterday, sliding it up and down the white gold chain. She was resistant when I handed her the jewelry box, like she didn’t want to accept a gift from me, but her face lit up when she unwrapped it, so I know I hit the mark.
I park the BMW in Al’s circular driveway. “Hey,” I say softly. “You okay?”
I remember she bristled when I invited her. Maybe it’s painful for her to be around her dad’scompadres. I put a hand on her knee and squeeze, but she doesn’t relax.
“Yeah. I just–” She breaks off and looks out the window.
“What?”
She turns back and looks straight at me. “Did someone at this party kill my dad?”
Cristo.I’m so taken aback by her question that I choke. I can’t answer. And I’m sure in that moment, she sees the truth.