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EPILOGUE
One Week Later
Danny had called Roxy and told her he’d be stopping by the salon in a couple of days, but waking up the following morning, he realized he wanted to see her more than he wanted to veg out on his own. Two hours later he helped her off her launch at the marina on St. Thomas, and took her back to his room at Gallow’s Bay.
But as much as he wanted to whisk her to bed, he needed her to know the unique life he led. Sitting her down, he gave her a brief account of his background.
“I know we’ve just met, but we have a connection, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, Roxy, life isn’t a dress rehearsal. Every day matters. I told you about Conchello and what I’ve been doing because I’ll be staying in law enforcement. My job isn’t nine-to-five, and if—”
“You can stop right there,” she exclaimed, interrupting him. “I think it’s fantastic, and Danny, it doesn’t matter what you do, it only matters who you are and how you make me feel,” then lowering her voice, she added, “it’s been a very long time since I’ve had butterflies in my stomach. Can we stop talking now?”
“I think I can manage that,” he said, relief and happiness flooding his heart.
“There is one thing though,” she whispered, leaning forward and winking at him, “you’d better not try to put your handcuffs on me.”
“Oh, Roxy,” he said softly, shaking his head, “fair warning. Don’t try to stop me…”
With the operation concluded, and Scott busy with Frank and Jack and interrogations, Elizabeth flew back to Los Angeles to pack some much needed clothes, tie up loose ends, and make arrangements to lease her condo.
Blindfolded and shackled, Rosemary and Sonny had been transported separately to the safe house on the isolated island, and neither was aware the other was there. Frank placed Sonny on the second floor, and Rosemary on the first. The unexpected revelation that she was Sonny’s mother had been startling, but after several conversations with both of them, their history was pieced together.
Rosemary had sensed early on she was carrying a boy. When the father, Chello Bastida, a well-known drug dealer in her run down Houston neighborhood, refused to accept responsibility, she’d decided to swindle him out of every penny he had.
Con Chello became her mantra.
Though she didn’t offer details, she claimed she’d been successful. When he’d left broke and humiliated, she’d swiftly and mercilessly stomped out any competitors and stepped into his shoes. But as a constant reminder never to fall victim to another man’s devices, she gave Sonny the surname Conchello.
In the seedy, violent business, Rosemary Garcia became a frightening force, but the constant battle to prove herself in the male dominated, macho underworld was infuriating and exhausting. When Sonny graduated from high school she moved to Southern California with a plan. Sonny would be seen as the head of the business, and Rosemary his housekeeper. He was young, but smart and brutal, and with his mother behind the scenes calling the shots, Sonny Conchello’s reputation quickly spread. Serve him, you’ll make a fortune. Screw up, and you’ll wish you’d never been born.
Rosemary and Sonny seemed happy to talk about their past, and even the inner workings of the organization, but Sonny insisted he knew nothing about a brothel called the Monastery, and Rosemary steadfastly maintained it was nothing but a rumor.
Elizabeth and Scott had stayed in constant contact, and she couldn’t wait to return. The night before her departure she called him with her arrival information, and he voiced his frustration.
“Now you know why I said men could be clueless sometimes,” she declared.
“I’ll ignore that comment,” Scott remarked, “but I’d like to know why you think she’s not talking.”
“That woman has spent her entire life battling men,” Elizabeth said vehemently. “Keeping the details of the Monastery to herself has become her win over you.”
“I guess that makes some kind of twisted sense, and I bet you have an idea.”
“Uh-huh. Would you like to hear it?” she asked airily.
“You so need to be spanked,” he muttered. “When you get off that plane...”
“Don’t you get tired of saying that?”
“Nope, and I never will. Tell me what you have in mind.”
Frank had been skeptical, but was willing to put the elements of Elizabeth’s suggestion together. Meeting her at the airport on St. Thomas, Scott hugged her for a long minute, then whisked her back to the island.
“I’m so happy to be back,” Elizabeth said happily as they walked into the house.
“I’ve missed having you around here,” he said, carrying her bags into the bedroom, “and I’d love to jump your bones, but Frank’s pulling his hair out, and he doesn’t have much left.”
“We can’t have that,” she said with a giggle. “Take me to your leader.”
Walking quickly to the security room, Frank welcomed her back and handed her the photographs she’d requested.
