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Rosie scowled, pressed the end call button and muttered “that fucking traitor.”
She tapped at the screen, only paying vague attention to driving as she swerved through traffic. Arguably, I should’ve feared for my life, but I felt as safe with this woman as I did with Duke. That, and I was fascinated to see what she was doing next.
“Calling Husband/Traitor” lit up the car screen.
There was barely a ring before a voice answered.
“You’re in deep fuckin’ shit,” a voice growled. The voice was attractive, like caramel, smooth, manly, all-over alpha.
It belonged to the man who had been sitting next to Rosie that night a million years ago. He was the only one who’d never been on my mental list. Something about him just seemed too…good. He wouldn’t participate in something like this. And he definitely didn’t sound like he wanted his wife to be doing it either.
“Right back at you, honey,” Rosie said in a sickly sweet and deadly voice. “You really think you’re going to get away with ratting on me?”
“It’s not fuckin’ ratting when I wake up to my wife gone and figure out that she’s involved herself with one of the deadliest organized criminals currently operating in the country.”
Rosie scowled. “It’s like you don’t even know me. I’m the deadliest criminal currently operating in the country. Just because I married a former cop, and popped out some kids, people think I’ve gone soft. Well, I haven’t. So you stay home and be dad; I’m going to go out and kick some ass.”
On that, she hung up the phone.
The drive with Rosie didn’t suck.
In fact, I would go so far as to say I had fun.
Had fun driving away from the one and only man I’d ever loved, the one family I’d ever known, and into a quite possibly deadly situation that I was nowhere near equipped for.
That was Rosie.
She didn’t seem like she was driving me to violence or death. It was like we were on our way to fucking Coachella.
We took turns driving since we couldn’t exactly stop, not with Duke on our tail.
“I consider myself smarter than all those men put together, but that only gives us a day’s head start. If that,” she said. “And when a man loses the woman that he’s gone batshit over—thanks for that, by the way, it won me a thousand bucks—that time frame is even more unpredictable.”
I winced at that, trying my best not to think about what I’d done to Duke and his family right after they celebrated Tanner’s child.
He was going to hate me.
They were all going to hate me, probably think that the movie star couldn’t handle the spotlight being on someone else so she ran off dramatically in the middle of the night to find more attention.
That was the plan, at least.
He hadn’t called again. I wasn’t sure if that was because Rosie had blocked his number or if he knew he wouldn’t get anything out of the woman.
She was active enough, calling people almost constantly including someone called Gwen to make sure she had plenty of alcohol ready for our arrival.
She called another woman named Amy, and ordered her to collect a boss-ass outfit for a woman with all my measurements.
Another call was to a woman called Evie to tell her to prepare for a “small war,” and with an order not to tell any of those “alpha assholes in leather.”
She’d looked to me after she said that. “We’re going to surprise them all with this shit.”
Amber was impressive.
I’d heard of it since it was where Lexie Descare lived most of her life these days. Somehow, there wasn’t that much information on it, which was unheard of in today’s media. I’d figured it had something to do with Greenstone Security and the motorcycle gang her husband was involved with.
The town itself was quaint, beautiful, and welcoming.
Again, something unheard of today. It was on the coast in California.
It should’ve been bastardized by corporations and tourists by now, yet it hadn’t been.
The main street was busy, but not crowded, not a Starbucks to be seen. Every store seemed to be mom-and-pop. The street itself was lined with flower boxes. Each business looked to be lovingly taken care of. It was a snapshot into a fantasy that was only supposed to exist in the movies—I should know.
Rosie double-parked outside a classy-looking boutique called Phoenix. The name was written in a classy script, the store itself was impeccable, and the girl in me was definitely excited at seeing something like this. I was on the run from the man I was in love with and planned to confront the asshole that murdered my best friend, yet I still found a small, superficial part of me that wanted to shop.
Rosie somehow looked fresh and ready for anything after the drive where we only stopped to use the restroom and took turns sleeping. She hopped out of the car without a word for me, and I had no choice but to follow.
