AVA
I thought he forgot about that the night he chose a civil ceremony for us. I shouldn’t known better. It wasn’t like he could force a priest to marry us with a half an hour’s notice—not like he did with the judge—but when he never brought up having a second ceremony, I didn’t either.
Is this… is this what he’s been doing behind my back? Not cheating on me, but doing whatever he could to give me the wedding of my childhood dreams.
I don’t know what to say. Stunned by what Angela told me, I lift my fingers to my lips, tapping them with the tips, trying to make sense of all this.
Because… it makes sense, right? Or do I just want it to?
“I like your ink.”
I glance over at her. Not gonna lie, but I wasn’t expecting the compliment on the heels of what she just said—especially when I’m not sure which one she’s referring to.
Taking pity on me, Angela taps her knuckle. “Your tattoo. It actually gives me an idea that my husband might like. He’s actually a bit of an artist himself.” A secretive smile tugs on her lips. “I have a few tattoos he gave me already.”
They must be hidden beneath her clothes. She’s wearing a silky blouse and a long flowing skirt, but unlike my devil tattoo and Link’s name on my finger, none of hers are on display.
Before I can say anything in response to that, her eyes light up.
Hurrying around the countertop, she says, “Speak of the devil,” a moment before the door opens.
For a split second, she says ‘devil’ and I expect Link to come stalking through the door.
Nope.
It’s a cop.
Dressed in an SPD uniform, the man walks with the energy that he owns the place. He’s not as big as Link is, though I’ll admit he fills out his uniform very nicely. He has carelessly tousled black hair, steely blue eyes, and a smile curving his lips as he sees Angela running toward him.
He opens his arms up to her, lifting her off the ground, spinning her around before setting her back on her feet. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he releases her, then says, “I missed you, angel.”
She giggles. “I’ve only been at work for four hours, Mace. And you stopped by when I opened.”
“I know. I still missed you.” He turns to look at me, a quick up and down before dismissing me just as easily. “Busy?”
“All morning, yeah. It’s a good thing Louise let me come back to help her, and so she can finally take a break. Summer’s definitely our busy season.”
The cop—who, from her reaction and the thick gold band on his ring finger, must be her husband—loops his arm over her shoulder in a possessive manner. Squeezing her to him, nuzzling her close, he says, “I can’t wait for it to be over. You and me, we’ll take an extended honeymoon.” Another kiss, as though he can’t help himself, and then, “You know how much I like it when it’s just the two of us, angel.”
I envy them. They’re obviously still in the newlywed stage, with the way he can’t keep his hands to himself, and how she looks up at him with big doe eyes as she says, “I do.”
And then there’s me, who never got a honeymoon, but if Angela can be believed, it’s because Link’s planning another wedding for us first…
“I just wanted to stop in while I was patrolling this way,” her husband tells her, though he makes no move to release her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you if you’re with a customer.”
Angela pats his in the chest. “Do you know who this is, baby? It’s Mrs. Crewes. Lincoln’s wife.”
Before, he gave me a quick once-over, scrutinizing me with those dark blue cop eyes, and dismissing me just as fast. But now… I don’t like the way he’s looking at me now.
Almost instinctively, my eyes dart to his nameplate.
M. Burns.
Crap.
Just my luck.
“I have to go. My husband… I should get back so that I can meet him in time for dinner.”
It’s not a lie. He’ll be back at the penthouse soon enough, and then we’re going to have a talk about just what he thinks he’s doing.
I remember how, a few times when he thought I was already asleep, he murmured how he wished we could start over. Depending on his mood, I couldn’t decide if he meant he wanted to when he left me—or how our second chance began with him blackmailing me.
Maybe it did. Our lives got derailed that day, but maybe we were always meant to find our ways back to each other somehow. Link, the bigshot gangster. Me, the naive school teacher. As we are now, we probably should never work as a couple… but he married me. If he has it his way, and Angela’s not covering for him, then he’ll do it again.
Still watching me closely, Burns nods at me. “Do me a favor, yeah?”
“Um. Sure.”
“Let Devil know me and my angel will be at the wedding, would you? Consider it our RSVP.”
There goes any kind of secrecy. Angela might’ve let it slip, but there’s no way she tipped her husband off to back up her story. It has to be true… and I really hope that I’m not just being hopelessly delusional.
“I will.”
He nods, and I get the feeling that he’s dismissed me.
Good.
With a wave at Angela, I turn on my heel, heading right for the door. I’m already thinking about how I’m going to get back to the penthouse because I know—I just know—that Burns is going to call Link up and let him know that he ran into me at the floral shop.
I’d planned on walking before, at least far enough to avoid being assigned the same creepy Uber driver from earlier. I wasn’t in Louise’s long enough for him to be out of the local area, and I didn’t mind the idea of getting some exercise while it was still light out.
Knowing that I just ran into Officer Burns? That dashes that idea. I need to get back to the penthouse ASAP so that I don’t cause Link an aneurysm by worrying about me.
Just as I step out onto the sidewalk, ready to grab my phone and order a car, I hear someone call my name.
My head snaps up in time to see Bobby hopping out of his car, dancing around the cars whizzing past him as he jogs over to me.
Wow. I mean, I know Link made it so that I can be tracked if necessary, but I guess it never occurred to me that one of my bodyguards would be able to find me. It probably should have. If they’re responsible for me while Link is occupied, they’d have to be able to track me down.
And Bobby? He did.
Breathing through his nose, the heights of his cheeks red with either panic or annoyance, he storms right over to me.
“You didn’t answer the phone,” he says, raising his voice at me. No ‘hi’, no ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’… just a very accurate accusation. “What the hell. Do you even have it on you?”
Not that I need to prove anything to him, but I take it out, showing it to Bobby. “If Link wanted to call me, he could’ve.”
He didn’t. I have eight missed calls currently, all from the same number. Bobby’s obviously.
“That’s because he has no idea you left on your own. And we’re going to try and keep it that way, okay?”
“He’ll understand.” When I explain that I let my jealousy get the better of me… if there’s anyone in the world who’ll understand my motives, it’s my husband.
Bobby snorts. “Trust me. It doesn’t matter who you are, you don’t want to piss off Devil.”
I’m not so sure about that.
Link will be annoyed, but he won’t be angry. Not at me. But Bobby, on the other hand… this is the second time he let me slip away. No wonder he’s freaking out. If the Devil comes out to play because his wife went missing, it’s Bobby’s head on the chopping block.
That’s why I don’t struggle when he grabs my bicep, dragging me toward the car that he double-parked. He’s probably desperate to get me back to the penthouse before Link realizes I left it.
I let him. He has a car, he can obviously cross the town quick as hell since he made it hear so soon after I did, and we both want me to get back before Link finds out where I went.
Bobby throws open the passenger side door for me. Just as he’s shoving me roughly inside of it, I feel a pinch that catches my attention, and has me yelping, “Ouch.”
He pauses. “You say something?”
“Yeah.” He finishes manhandling me into the car, and I go even as I tell him, “Something pinched me.”
“I know.”
He knows.
Before I can ask him what that means, he makes sure I’m completely seated, then slams the door closed. By the time he’s made it around the back of the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, I’m already feeling… off.
My vision is going dark. My tongue feels too big in my mouth, and it comes out as a slur as I ask him, “What did you just do to me?”
The last thing I remember is the triumphant smile tugging on his thin lips as Bobby shows off the small needle nestled in his palm.
After that, everything goes black.
LINCOLN
If wedding planning isn’t one of the seven circles of Hell, it should be.
I thought navigating a three-way stand-off between local mafias when it comes to gun running was rough. That’s nothing compared to figuring out how much food to order from the caterers, or whether Ava would prefer a morning wedding or one in the afternoon.
I eventually book St. Francis’s for an eleven o’clock ceremony because that would give her time to get ready before I drive her over to the church. A Sinner’s reception usually goes all night, but my wife likes to turn in early. This way she doesn’t get shafted by cutting the party short, and I get the chance to show her again just how important she is to me in front of the Family.
Because kid or no kid, the moment I made Ava mine, she made the syndicate a Family. We don’t need a fancy church wedding to prove it—the scene at the Playground was more than enough—but I’m not doing all of this because it’s expected of me as the head of a crime family. If I was, I would’ve delegated all of this to one of my soldier’s or even Ava herself and washed my hands of it.
Oh, no. I’m doing this for Ava, giving her the wedding she always dreamed of, and hoping like hell that she finally understands that she’s my wife.
I fucked up. I admit that. Marrying her the way I did… I’ll never regret making her mine, but by doing it as fast as I did, I didn’t think about what she wanted.
Now I am, and I hope she appreciates it when I’m done.
A small smile curves my lips as I think of all the ways Ava will show me that she does on the honeymoon I’m also planning—
My phone buzzes, cutting short my imaginings.
“Fuck.”
Again? I just got off the phone with the caterers, and if they’re calling back with more bullshit questions like “chicken or steak” again, I might blow my top.
Snatching my phone, I barely glance at the caller ID—but then I do a double-take and answer it. “Burns? You got an update about Maglione for me?”
On the other end of the line, Burns sounds quieter than I’m used to. Deadlier. “You’ll never guess who I just ran into.”
If he’s telling me, there’s a reason he thinks I care. “Who?”
“Your wife.”
I nearly drop my fucking phone.
I’m in the back office of the Playground, dealing with all of this wedding shit. Because it’s a surprise, I can’t do any of it in front of Ava, so I’ve been spending most of my time here, calling it ‘work’.
If Burns showed up at Paradise Suites, someone would’ve called me. Mona. Bobby. Even Ava… someone would’ve called me. Then again, it should’ve been the same thing if Ava left.
What the hell is going on?
“Where did you see her?”
“Funny thing, Devil. She was leaving my wife’s shop as I was walking in.”
Burns’s new wife works as a florist at the place where I’ve been ordering all of my flowers for Ava. As a favor to him and for all of his help, I thought I’d throw a little business Angela’s way. Ava likes flowers—and she loves the little additions I throw in—but that doesn’t explain why she would risk leaving the penthouse without telling me just to go smell some roses.
“Hang on,” I tell the cop. With Burns still on the line, I pull up the tracker app Tanner installed for me. When the address where Ava’s phone is at appears on my screen, I recognize it instantly. “She’s still there. Can you do me a favor and put her on the phone?”
“I watched her leave, but maybe she’s waiting outside for a ride. I’ll go check.
I hear the jingle of a bell, a door opening, the handcuffs on his belt jangling… and then, “I don’t see her.”
What the fuck does he mean, I don’t see her. “My app says she’s there.”
“Right, and my eyes say she isn’t.”
Asshole. Burns is the best cop on my payroll in the SPD, but he’s a fucking asshole. Hitting a button on my app, I signal it so that Ava’s phone will start ringing. It’s supposed to be used when she misplaced her phone in the penthouse, but this will work, too.
“I just made it ring,” I tell him. “Do your ears work?”
“Funny, Crewes,” mutters Burns. “Real fucking funny—hey. Wait a sec. I think I do. It’s coming from—oh.”
Oh? I don’t like ‘oh’.
As if he can read my mind, Burns breathes out, “You’re not gonna like this.”
“Where is my wife, Burns?”
“I think I found her phone.” Static as Burns shifts his. “It’s an iphone, blue case with apples all over it?”
Yeah, because she was a teacher. “Yeah. Where did you find it?”
And why isn’t Ava on the line yet?
I get the answer to that when Burns says, “In the street, just on the other side of a parked car. It’s here. She’s not.”
Each word echoes like a bullet to my brain.
In. Boom. The. Boom. Street. Boom.
It’s. Boom. Here. Boom.
She’s. Boom.
Not.
Boom.
I squeeze my phone so tightly, the glass enclosure creaks.
“Where the fuck is my wife?”
Burns doesn’t know.
And neither do I.
