“You sure about hitting the hospital today? Wouldn’t you rather sightsee?”
“Can’t we do both?”
“How about we play it by ear?”
“Sure. I…” She lost her train of thought when she turned and saw Savage pulling on a jacket—his blue and lavender paisley tie perfectly knotted.
Hello, Mr. Fashion Model
. “Whoa.”
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a thumbs’ up.”
“Wow.”
“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll never leave this room.”
“We should go.”
“I’d rather stay, but, yeah. Val will rip me a new one if I miss this. Just remember—”
“Nothing bad is going to happen.” Bella marched over to Savage and nabbed him by the lapels of his crisp, stylish jacket. “Expect the worst and you’re inviting the worst. Why in the world would Leo-the-Lion Pratt send a goon to an affair attended by a bunch of cops? How stupid would that be? Really stupid, if you ask me.” Bella loosened her grip and smoothed the lapels she’d crumpled. “Now. We’re going to go to this fancy shindig and we’re going to have fun. Right?”
Savage smiled down into her eyes. “Spoken like the ferocious optimist I love.”
“Not the answer I was going for, but it will do.”
Bella stole a kiss and Savage gave her butt a playful slap. She thought she’d managed to make him see reason, and maybe he did, but even so, as they stepped into the hall she felt him slip into full protector mode.
* * *
Bella had made some good points and Joe did his damnedest not to obsess on worst-case scenarios. Although he was vigilant as he escorted her through the hotel and onto the bustling sidewalk, he relaxed somewhat in the taxi. He relaxed even more in St. James Cathedral. As a couple sitting on the bride’s side, Bella and Joe were indeed surrounded by cops.
Joe knew them all.
He’d worked with most of them and, in better times, had hung out with more than a few. Most of the friendships had faded or frayed or both. He blamed his volatile temper, his moodiness, and his obsession with busting that sex trafficking ring. He’d burned out and he’d been an asshole. Plain and simple. Never mind that he got the job done, his methods weren’t always Kosher. Other detectives dabbled in shades of grey. It’s not that Joe was wholly unique, but he’d crossed the line one too many times. Even Val, his closest and oldest friend had asked to be reassigned. Learning she didn’t want to work with him, didn’t trust him, had been the slap that roused his attention. He’d known he couldn’t go on status quo and he was dead set against therapy, so he’d quit. Grabbing the lifeline extended from his dead Uncle Mike, he’d chucked his career to move to Nowhere desperate to escape the darkness. Only the darkness had been within.
An asshole and an idiot
.
Entering the church and taking their seats, Joe wasn’t sure who stirred up the most interest. Him or Bella? Or maybe it was them as a couple. He radiated a dangerous edge and she oozed goodness and light. He knew Bella was nervous about not knowing anyone, but she smiled at everyone who looked her way and traded greetings with the ease of a professional hostess.
Throughout the ceremony, Joe stole several peeks at his date, noting her expressions, trying to read her mind. Was she fantasizing about her own wedding? The church, the gown, the flowers, the ring? Was she worried he wasn’t the marrying kind? He’d never told Bella about his reluctance to have kids. Even if he wanted to propose, he’d have to broach the kid subject first. Would it prove an insurmountable barrier?
Those thoughts snowballed and prevailed, even after they left the cathedral and entered the catering hall. All through dinner, Joe only had eyes for Bella. Even though Mitzi was the star of this show. Even though Val and an assortment of his former colleagues vied for his attention. He interacted, appreciating those who expressed genuine interest in his new life, indulging those who greeted him with a mix of wariness and disdain. He’d ruffled a lot of feathers. He got that.
Overall Bella proved the buffer he’d hoped for. No one broached Joe’s shaky history nor did they bring up Pratt. Conversation was light and social and as dinner turned to dancing and drinks, somehow, amazingly, Joe did manage to loosen up. Mostly he was getting a kick watching Bella have a great time.
“Caught yourself a sweet one, Savage. How the hell did that happen?”
Joe shifted his eyes from the dance floor, where Bella was performing the Chicken Dance alongside a bunch of kids, to the man who planted his suited ass next to Joe. “I have no idea, Chief.”
Chief Douglas Cray. The man who’d mentored Joe through his early years with the BOC, the man who’d taken him aside after Pratt had accused Joe of brutality, the man who’d spoken to him as a friend, first. Supervisor, second. Joe had been in deep shit and Doug had handed him a shovel. Even after Joe had thrown in the towel, his boss had treated him with respect. One of the good guys. And Joe had returned his follow-up phone calls with brief, detached texts, same as he’d done with Val.
This moment Joe regarded Doug with the admiration he deserved, mentally kicking himself for closing the door on so many of his past associates. “Can I grab you a beer?”
“No, thanks. I’m on my way out.”
“So soon?” The party was still in full swing.
Doug shifted and lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. Not yet. So do me a favor and keep it under your hat until further notice.”
“Okay.”
“Pratt’s dead.
Joe stared.
“I just got the call. A prison scuffle ended badly for the bastard.”
“Was it a gang hit? Retribution? A personal beef? What the hell?”
“I’m heading over to get a full account from the warden. I’ll notify anyone on my team as needed. That won’t be Val. Let her enjoy her special evening. Hell, she actually put on a gown. And heels. She deserves some sort of award for going all girly and risking a ribbing from the guys.”
Joe smiled a little, even though his heart was pounding like a mother.
Doug squeezed his shoulder. “Details are fuzzy, but one thing is clear. You’re free of Pratt’s threat. Let this thing go once and for all, Joe. Go be with your sunny girl. Have a life.”
Joe nodded, stuck for words as the chief swung out of his chair and disappeared into the crowd. He was hungry for those fuzzy details, but he didn’t follow. He felt stunned. Pratt dead? Just like that? In the blink of an eye, in the heat of a scuffle, the impetus for Joe’s biggest worry, the biggest dirt-bag in his herd of demons was dead?
Too easy. Too good to be true. Yet there it was.
Who says fairy tales are for children
?
“Damn.”
Joe loosened his tie. He focused back on the dance floor as that idiotic chicken dance ended and the band segued into a slow number. Children fled the floor and couples converged. Jimmy Reed, a former colleague with the detective division had commandeered Bella. Joe wasn’t jealous, but he wanted to be in Jimmy’s shoes.
He closed the distance, tapping the man he used to call friend. “Do you mind?”
Jimmy looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, I mind, Savage. How the hell did you luck out?” Though he did give Joe’s back a good natured rap after handing off Bella.
She smiled up into his eyes. “I thought you weren’t keen on dancing.”
Joe held her close, his heart pounding for a dozen reasons, his brain jammed with a hundred thoughts. Pratt dead. Sasha safe. Darkness clearing. Loving Bella. “I’m keen on you.”
He stole a tender kiss then pulled her close, swaying to the music while contemplating the future.
Funland.
Bella.
Her stories.
His art.
Arms wrapped around his neck, Bella squeezed closer as the music swelled. “What’s going on you, Joe?”
He couldn’t tell her about Pratt. Not until he’d gotten the go ahead from the chief. But he did hug her and give her ear a playful nip. “Viva Evolution.”
* * *
Bella was floating on air. And it had nothing to do with alcohol. She’d toasted the bride and groom with a flute of champagne but then she’d switched to iced tea for the rest of the afternoon.
No, this giddy lightheadedness had everything to do with Joe. She’d sensed him relaxing throughout the day. He’d reconnected with friends from the CPD. He’d encouraged her to join Val and several others on the dance floor. The best had been when he’d cut in on his friend Jimmy, pulling her into his arms for a sexy dance. Melting against Savage’s body, swaying to the sultry music—
heaven
. He was no longer on full alert, peering into the corners of the room, waiting for some goon to snatch her into the shadows. He seemed at ease, happy even.
She couldn’t wait until they were back at the hotel where she could question him in private. What had erased the worry from those mysterious dark eyes?
Just now he was escorting her back to the table. “I could use a beer,” he said. “Can I get you something?”
“Not right now,” Bella said. “I’ve had too much tea. I need to visit the ladies room. It’s just through that hall. And look Val’s heading that way, too,” she added in case he was still concerned about her being out of sight.
He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Meet you back here.”
Bella tugged at his tie then nabbed her little beaded bag. Since she was snatching a moment of privacy, she’d send quick texts to her dad and the Inseparables. She’d touched base the day before letting everyone know she was fine, but she’d kept Joe’s declaration of love to herself, worrying she’d somehow jinx it if she shared the news too soon, worrying it was too good to be true.
She was no longer worried.
She was floating and hopeful and incredibly happy.
She stepped into the hall intending to follow in Val’s footsteps, but someone clasped her hand and whisked her in the opposite direction. A scream lodged in her throat as she came face to face with…Carson.
Not Pratt. Not some goon.
Relief whooshed through her being, followed by a heady dose of anger. “For the love of God, what are you doing here?”
“I came to talk sense into you.”
Her brain glitched as he steered her into a secluded courtyard.
Carson in Chicago
. “What do you mean talk sense into me?”
“Shacked up in a hotel with man you barely know? A man accused of police brutality? People know and people are talking.”
“What people? What…” Bella jerked free of Carson’s hold, burning with indignation. “I can’t believe this. You flew to Chicago, tracked me down at this party to talk sense into me?”
“You’re not yourself. Take that dress and those shoes. They’re not you. They’re…desperate. A thinly veiled attempt to play the bad girl. I get it, honey. You’re torn up about your mom. Feel sorry for your dad. You’re worried about your job. Your future. Savage came along and provided you with a chance to act out, to be someone else. Because your life was too painful and I was too ordinary. You’re all about escapism. Always have been.”
“And you’re all about winning.”
Fists clenched at her side, lungs burning, Bella stared down the man who’d stepped in to save her world and instead sought to conquer and rule. Because she believed the best in Carson, even when he acted like a jerk, she’d never wanted to crush his feelings. She could see now that she’d been naïve to think they could be friends. Worse, she’d been a coward not to fully own up to her mistakes. She’d spent a lifetime running from ugly. If she’d learned anything from Savage, it was the futility of dodging demons.
Squaring her shoulders, Bella stood firm. “I need you to listen to me, Carson. And I need you to hear what I say. You’re right. Mom’s death hit me hard and compromised my senses, my judgment. Otherwise, I never would have started seeing you to begin with. God knows I never would have slept with you.”
“Bella—”
“I ignored my heart, thinking love would come with patience. I tried to force my feelings for you because, at the time, you soothed my aching soul. You filled a void. You distracted dark thoughts. I used you. You dangled a beautiful future in front of my eyes and I so badly wanted everything you offered. Marriage, children, family, stability. You treated me like a princess, but then somehow, somewhere along the way, I fell off my pedestal. You no longer viewed me as perfect. You criticized my choices.”
“I voiced concern.”
“You redirected the focus of my work.”
“I suggested a more logical, profitable angle.”
“You want a wife who’ll look good on your arm and by your side in those self-made car commercials. You want a woman who’ll take an active part in your auto family. There’s nothing wrong with that except it’s not what I want.”
Hurt flared in his defiant gaze.
Bella pressed on but softened her tone. “I’m not what you want either, Carson. You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. An attractive, outgoing, homegrown girl. A trophy wife your dad would approve of. A woman the town would adore. A woman you saved from miserable circumstances—which would make you even more special in their eyes.”
“Jesus.” Hands on hips, Carson dropped his head, blew out a breath.
“I don’t care if people are gossiping about me, Carson. But you do. Because in your eyes, you lost the prize to another man. You’re not here to protect my reputation. You’re here to salvage your ego.”