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She reached for the phone and looked at the caller ID. It was Maggie. Her guilt rolled away instantly. Her friend was a bigger pervert than she was.
“Hi, lady,” she said as she answered. “What’s up?”
“I told Wes,” Maggie said.
Raven wasn’t able to read her tone. “And…?” she prompted. “Was he mad like you were afraid he would be?”
Maggie giggled. “No, he’s ecstatic. He took the day off work, and we’ve been having celebratory sex all morning.”
Raven thought about what had been happening in her own bed all morning and smiled. It must be going around the neighborhood.
“So you decided to call and tell me about it?” she joked.
“No, but if you want to hear about it…”
“Um, no. Thank you,” Raven declined, knowing Maggie was just messing with her.
“I called to see if you and Ridge wanted to join us for dinner tonight? Wes wants to have a big ol’ barbecue to celebrate. I told him to wait for the weekend when everyone could stay late and have a good time, but he’s too excited. He wants to do it tonight.”
Raven smiled. She was so happy Wes had taken it well. She really believed they were going to be great parents. “I would love to be there,” she told Maggie. “I’ll have to check with Ridge. I don’t think he has plans, but I hate to speak for him.”
“That’ll change,” Maggie said with a giggle. “Eventually, you’ll do all the talking for both of you. I’m going to call Mitch and Flynn and the rest of those idiots. I’ll see you and Ridge about seven?”
“Sounds great,” Raven told her. “Did you need me to bring anything?”
“Just your beautiful self, and your hot fiancé.”
Raven smiled again. “Bye, Mama!”
Maggie giggled. “That suits me, doesn’t it? Mama! I’m going to be a mama!”
Raven hung up, still smiling. Maggie’s energy and excitement had snaked its way through the phone. She headed for the shower, making a list in her head of the things she was going to accomplish today.
Brownsville, Texas
Wednesday, Noon
Vincent saton the sofa next to Marcella and opened the large plain-brown package. Inside, as promised by his “Boss,” were the papers that he and Marcella would need to relocate. There were clothes in the box too. Vincent pulled them out, and he and Marcella both made a face at the poor quality of them. The jeans looked like they had been purchased at a swap meet, a sale held at the fairgrounds every weekend. There was a pair for each of them, as well as long-sleeved shirts, denim jackets, and two tacky looking pairs of boots. A small baggie held an assortment of cheap costume jewelry and make-up.
It was perfect.
Vincent smiled, and handing the women’s clothing to Marcella, he said, “Put these on, wear your hair up big and high, and put on a lot of make-up.” Right away, she went to do as he said.
Meanwhile, Vincent put on the men’s clothing. He went into the small bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. The clothes alone made him practically unrecognizable. However, he needed to look like the pictures on the identification cards in the box. Opening the bathroom cabinet, he took out the box of hair dye stored there.
“Marcella!” he called.
She came to the doorway of the bathroom. If he hadn’t known it was her, he wouldn’t have recognized her. The cheap clothing fit her snugly. The button-up shirt barely contained her large breasts. She had it tied at the waist, and a tasty-looking morsel of her soft, flat belly was showing. Her hair was piled high on her head and ratted out; the black liner underneath her eyes rivaled that of Cleopatra’s, if he ignored the white shadow that started at her lid and ended underneath her brow.
“Aye, sexy lady,” he said with a grin.
Marcella blushed. “I feel cheap in these clothes, but if you like them, that’s all that matters.”
Vincent sat down in a chair and held a towel around his shoulders as Marcella applied the contents of the dye bottle to his head. When she had combed it through all of his hair, she set the timer for twenty minutes. Vincent looked her up and down once more and licked his lips. The way the cheap jeans fit her lovely plump ass was giving him a hard-on. Marcella noticed, and without waiting to be asked, she knelt down in front of him, unzipped his pants, and took him in her mouth.
“God, you’re excellent at that,” he told her as she ran her tongue along the shaft and then gently sucked the head of it into her mouth, only stopping when it had reached the back of her throat. She repeated her movements, and added a few more along the way, until Vincent’s body tensed and he filled her mouth. He shuddered as he watched her swallow it. She wiped her lips on the back of her hand and helped him tuck himself back inside his shorts and zip up his pants, just as the timer let out a sharp “ding,” bringing them back to the task at hand.
CHAPTERNINE
