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“Rosie, what are we doing here?” I asked as she made it clear she was going into the clothing store.
She raised her perfectly shaped brow at me. “You really think we’re going into a takedown of this magnitude without some fresh outfits? Come on, don’t disappoint me now.”
Then she opened the door, holding it for me like an invitation.
The woman had a point.
“Attagirl,” she muttered when I walked in.
The store was larger than it looked outside, and way more impressive, which was saying something. I felt transported back to LA, but somehow without the snootiness. There was exposed brick all down one side of the store, carefully arranged jewelry displays, expensive candles burning, placed so they weren’t overpowering, but welcoming.
“Rosie!” a woman screamed, running through the store on six-inch heels.
The two women hugged like old friends, sisters.
It was only when they let each other go that I got a good look at the woman. She was an absolute knockout. Again, I’d become accustomed to beautiful people living in LA, but there was something different about this woman, similar to the aura that Rosie carried around, maybe without the air of danger—with something softer.
Her long chocolate-brown hair fell down her back in soft curls, emerald-green eyes glowed with happiness. I thought she might’ve been around my age, but I couldn’t really tell. Her skin was flawless, and eyes free of the typical jadedness that came around your thirtieth birthday.
She was dressed exactly like the store: expensive, classic, approachable, with a long white maxi-dress, belted at her tiny waist. Strings of gold and diamonds were slung around her neck, bracelets the same. There were only two rings on her hands, though, a massive diamond and wedding band on her ring finger.
Her green eyes widened as she took me in. “You’re Anastasia Edwards! Oh my gosh, I fucking love you. My daughter does too.”
She had an accent that I thought was either New Zealand or Australian, peppered with a slight American twang that told me she’d lived here for a while.
I smiled warmly at her, because that was what the woman invited. There was no way I’d be able to hold on to my cold mask if everyone in this place was like her. “I hope I get to meet her then,” I said that with honesty, the first time I was actually curious and looking forward to meeting a child. I didn’t really like them, as a rule, maybe because I never got to be one. Maybe because I knew I’d never have one.
“I’m Gwen,” she said, moving forward and hugging me. “I’m Rosie’s sister-in-law.”
That made sense.
Gwen let me go and narrowed her eyes at Rosie. “Is Cade going to be totally pissed off that you’re here?”
Rosie smiled. “I couldn’t imagine why.”
Gwen clapped her hands. “Epic!” She looked us up and down. “Now I’m guessing you stopped here because you’re about to cause some trouble and you need outfits to go with it?”
“You know me far too well, sister,” Rosie said, moving toward the clothing racks. “Think, mafia takedown combined with an Olivia Pope in Scandal vibe.”
Gwen’s heels clicked as she walked to the front door, flipped the sign to “closed,” then locked it. She clapped her hands together and smiled. “I’ve got you.”
And she did.
They both did.
Which was a good thing, since I definitely didn’t feel like I “had” myself.
No, the only person who truly had me, I’d left behind on a ranch in Montana.
14
Rosie and I spent just over an hour with Gwen. I could’ve spent all day with her, as she had something about her that I wanted to soak up. There was a comfort in her presence, a kindness.
It was almost like, for that hour, I was a woman with two kick-ass, beautiful friends and we were just out shopping. No furious cowboys chasing after us, no broken hearts, no dead friends, no crime boss looking to kill me so I couldn’t testify against him.
But then, as it tended to do, reality rushed back in.
We left the store with two bags…each. I didn’t know how long this takedown was meant to go on for, but I doubted it would be long enough for all those outfits. It was only when Gwen was bagging everything up that I realized I didn’t have my wallet with me. Duke had confiscated it on the first day, because he probably thought I’d try to escape his protection and be stupid enough to use my credit cards. Rosie had paid for everything on the trip, I’d noted that, but I’d been in too much of a haze to understand the fact I had no money, no identification, no phone, nothing. I was relying totally on Rosie.
“Okay, so due to the current situation, I find myself without a way to pay for this,” I began to say to Gwen.
