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“Oh, princess.” He held on tight for many long moments. “I just want you two to be happy. Whatever it takes.”
As she headed for bed a minute later, she decided not to let that last promise scare her.
Sally swirled the spoon lazily through the sauce simmering on Roman’s stove without taking her eyes from him. Ever since he had gotten back from his meeting with Bannigan, he had been pacing the confines of his living room and spewing a steady stream of curses. The English ones she understood, but then he’d toss in a few in what sounded like Italian. Even more interesting were the ones she assumed to be Gaelic.
“Oo. What’s that mean? Sounds vicious.”
He sent her an evil eye that would have done her daddy proud. “Shut up, Sally.”
If he meant to slap her down, he’d have to try harder than that. He was a kitten compared to Al or Dad. “Hm…no, I think I’ve heard that in every language under the sun, and that’s not how you say it in Gaelic.”
“Cute.” He tossed himself onto his faded couch and hooked an arm over his face.
Sally tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot, wiped up the spatters of red that she’d made, and put the lid back on the sauce. Then she washed her hands—more quickly than she’d have liked—and headed to the sofa. Taking up position on its threadbare arm, she slid a hand behind his head and massaged the tense muscles of his neck. “You need to relax, champ. I told you it wouldn’t be enough. For a man with fewer connections, maybe, but your Bannigan’s not going to file charges against Manny until we can bring him a witness that saw the actual crime.”
He grunted.
Sally rolled her eyes, an indulgence she allowed herself because he wouldn’t be able to see her do it. In some ways, men were all the same. When their pride got wrapped up in a thing, they just didn’t want to listen to facts. But it was time he got over himself. She’d been spending every minute she could steal from Al pumping potential witnesses, and before long all the lowlifes would know to keep an eye out for her and go mum. “Everyone we’ve talked to has agreed that if anyone saw it, it was Timothy Baker. So we wait for him to get back from his trip down south, and we talk to him.”
“I’m tired of waiting. I’ve been waiting for weeks.”
And had been in a sour mood for most of them. Ever since that fiasco of a meeting with Sabina three weeks ago, he’d alternated between grizzly and teddy bear—either turning into her arms and holding on tight or snarling at her if she opened her mouth. If anyone ever bothered to ask her, she couldn’t have said why she found the dichotomy so endearing. Maybe she was just a sucker for an aching heart.
Or maybe it was because even a testy, growling Roman never raised a hand to her.
“Two more weeks. That’s all.” When he dropped his arm, she took the opportunity to lean over and trail a line of kisses down his face. It was the best way to gauge his mood. If he turned his mouth to hers, it meant he’d be receptive to whatever she had to say. If he turned away, she might as well hold her silence.
He just sat there this time. Well, she could work with that. She kneaded a particularly stubborn knot in his neck with her thumb. “You’ll never guess who dropped in to see me today.”
“Hm. The Queen of England.”
“Well sure, but I meant after lunch.” That earned her a chuckle and relaxed his neck a little more. Perfect. “This particular guest is a lovely redhead, secretary to a certain lawyer you’re none too fond of.”
He sat up so quickly that he nearly knocked her off her perch. “Helen Gregory came to see you? Why?”
She’d known that would get his attention. She decided not to take it personally that he got so excited about anyone with a link to Sabina Mancari. After all, she wasn’t after his heart—just that grand-and-a-half he was offering her. She tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was the only john who didn’t make her feel like she had to scrub her skin clean off after he left her side.
But back to the ginger. “Couple reasons. First off, she says she’s in love with Enzo Capecce.”
Schemes lit up his eyes and drew his lips into a smirk. “Yeah? What’s she willing to do to get him, I wonder? I bet she could help me break them up. If she—”
“Hey.” She snapped her fingers in front of his nose to get his attention. “You wanna know what she actually said, or are you just gonna go off on your own tangent here?”
His smirk turned into a grin. “Sorry. Go on.”
“That’s better. Anyway. She apparently started with that same idea—break ’em up. Says she even considered coming to you to work together on it. But after your disastrous attempt at that a few weeks ago—”
“Hey!”
“Her words, not mine.” She bit back a grin. “Says she’s the one who sent him to the park early to catch you together. Figured it would be a spark to a powder keg one way or another. They’d either break up or decide they never would. After watching them together these last few weeks, she figures nothing’s going to come between them now. Says Enzo’s more crazy about Sabina than ever and that Sabina’s definitely in love with him too.”
“Not possible.” He levered up and took to pacing again. “He’s probably just doing this to spite me. He’s a self-righteous hypocrite, there’s no way he’d actually want her after learning how involved she was with me. He’ll either keep it official until he thinks I’m gone and then end it, or marry her just so he can lord it over her. As if I’d let that happen.”
Sally folded her arms over her chest as she regarded him. He was convinced of his own reasoning, that was obvious. The question was whether or not he was right. “You sure about that? I mean, I’ll be the first to admit there are self-righteous bigots out there”—one of them in her own life answered to Dad—“and they’re capable of ruining lives, I’m testament to that. But there are also people who are genuinely good. Capable of forgiving.” There had to be. She didn’t know any of them herself, but there had to be. The whole world wasn’t the Levee or, for that matter, Washington Street in Cumberland. So why, when she ran away from the one, had she ended up smack dab in the middle of the other?
“Sally, I’m not exactly interested in your life story right now, okay? I need to think about this.”
She bit her tongue—literally—to keep from labeling him with a few choice names. It wouldn’t pierce her. She wouldn’t let it. It couldn’t, because he was nothing to her. Just a john. Just a grand-and-a-half.
