It’s something we could build on. Common ground.
Maybe having a baby will help Joey clarify his priorities and make the changes he wants to make for himself, not just for us.
“Maybe everyone would be happy with a new arrangement.”
Joey’s brows go down. “Yeah. Sammy, too. He works under me at the bar, but it’s really his baby. I think he hates that he answers to me and thinks I don’t deserve that power over him.” Joey shakes his head. “I shouldn’t talk business with you. Keep this between us, okay?”
I bob my head, even more warmed. It’s not that I wanted to be included, but I think the layer of secrecy lends to more paranoia on my part. “Of course.”
We’ve been driving for a while, and I realize we’re on the same route Joey drove me the day of my dad’s funeral. I stay quiet but wait to see, and sure enough, he pulls off at the same beach.
I send him a quizzical glance, and he shrugs. “It seemed like the right place to go.” We climb out of the car and take off our shoes when we get to the sand. Joey holds both pairs in one hand and clasps mine with his other.
“This was our beginning. Not romantically, but it was a connection. That was the day you said goodbye to your dad.”
I stop and look out at the water, remembering how I’d needed to go out into it, to wash off my grief. It had been a baptism of sorts.
“Today’s another beginning.” Joey stands behind me and wraps his free arm around me, his hand splaying across my abdomen. He kisses my neck. “We say goodbye to our single, child-free lives. We become a family.”
His murmur in my ear is sweeter that the lull of the ocean waves. Sexier than the hottest scene I could imagine.
I turn and grip his face, pulling his mouth to mine. I kiss him frantically. Madly. Passionately. My tongue tangles with his, my arms loop around his neck.
When we break apart, his smile beams warmer than the sun. “Let’s go find you a ring.”
Joey
I pull up on the top level of the parking garage and turn off the engine. There’s only one other car up here, which is exactly why I selected this location as the meetup.
I grab a fat envelope of cash and get out. The door of the Toyota Camry swings open, and a man in a suit climbs out.
Ned Burton, my FBI contact.
We meet at one of the pillars of the parking structure. I position my back against it, so I’m covered from behind and have a view of the entrance. Ned’s gaze sweeps the place, too.
“Thanks for your help with the Manghini Construction thing,” I say. A few months back, both the Feds and the IRS were digging into Bobby’s company, looking for payouts to the mayor and signs of money laundering.
Because Bobby and I are both damn good at what we do, they didn’t turn up anything.
Still, the heads’ up I got from Ned kept us one step ahead or at least prepared for the shit show that went down.
Ned nods. “So, Stan Matranga moved to Jersey. Was that a shot across the bow?”
I tip my head and consider. “Seems like it. I was hoping you had some information.”
“Not much. They seem to be expanding in several directions, though. Word is, their meth production just went way up. But your outfit doesn’t run drugs, does it?” He narrows his eyes at me.
I shake my head. “No. But the New Jersey dealers give us a taste.”
“So maybe they want to take over distribution in your state and cut you out.”
“Possibly. That’s all you have?”
Ned shrugs. “That’s it.”
I hand over the envelope, even though he hardly earned it this time.
He tucks it in the inside pocket of his jacket without counting. “Preciate doing business with you.”