Page 98 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Cross hadn’t said anything to his girl over the messages he sent after he left Andino. He simply asked where she was, and if she wanted to meet up. Apparently, she was dealing for a couple of socialites inside the club and their movie-star friend. As far as he understood, the thrall in Catherine’s hustling for these people was her presence. They liked her attention and her status in New York, and so she fed into that nonsense because it made her money.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, Cross kept his gaze on the entrance of the club, and waited. Another ten minutes passed before a familiar form walked out of the club. An open black trench coat, left untied at the waist, showed off the short, slinky silver dress Catherine was wearing. She tucked a matching clutch under her arm. Ankle high boots clicked on the pavement as she quickly spotted him and moved in his direction.

Cross pushed off the Porsche, and opened his arms. Without hesitation, Catherine took his embrace with a smile.

“You’re out late when you have classes tomorrow, aren’t you?”

Catherine laughed lightly. “I’m not a very good student.”

“I guess not. Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” she mumbled into his chest. “Did you just miss me, or what?”

Cross chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. “Always, babe.”

Catherine leaned back and looked up at him curiously. “Why do I hear a but in there somewhere?”

Cross looked around. “Did you bring your Lexus, or …?”

“No. I take cabs when I’m working. It’s just easier when I have to run between venues, and don’t have time to find parking spots at every one.”

“Yeah, I get that. You mind taking a drive with me?”

Catherine grinned. “Where are we going?”

“Just … a drive.”

Instantly, Catherine’s smile faded. “Is something wrong?”

Cross didn’t quite know how to answer that. “I mean, yes and no. Can we just talk about it in the car?”

“All right.”

She let him open the passenger side door of the Porsche. Once she was safely inside, he slammed it shut and headed around the front of the car. The noise from the club—pumping, deep bass—echoed as the doors opened across the street to let a group of people out.

Cross slipped into the driver’s side, and ignited the ignition. Catherine, slightly turned in her seat, watched him in that silent, worrying way of hers. He knew that expression far too well. He had seen her wear it far too many times.

It wasn’t long before they were driving on busy city streets. The lights of the city helped to light up the cab of the car.

Finally, Catherine spoke. “Are you going to tell me what’s up, or keep making me anxious over here?”

“I don’t mean to make you anxious,” Cross said, “but I don’t know how to say this, either.”

“You’re you, Cross.”

“Well, yeah.”

Catherine flashed him with a sweet smile. “So be you and just say it.”

Right.

Be him.

Blunt. Painfully honest. Unrestrained.

“I was with Andino earlier,” Cross said.

Catherine stiffened. “Why were you with my cousin?”