They were all acting absolutely crazy. I’d never seen such grown men scared of a cupcake. Frankie bit back a curse and then his shoulders sagged, letting me know I’d won.
“Fine, but I will go with you and stand by your side the entire time. You have no idea what these women are capable of. The things they’ve done. You’d have nightmares.”
“Delicious baked goods?” I couldn’t believe we were still having this argument. He acted like the bakery was full of hardened criminals.
“Do you know that one time they drove an entire car full of drugs right down Main Street?”
I tapped him on the shoulder again. It was one of the very few spots he didn’t have a bruise. “Now you’re just making up stories.”
Frankie shook his head. “We’ll go to the bakery, but you don’t leave my eyesight. One day you’ll see, Cara Mia.”
I slipped off his lap and held out my hand for him, this time grabbing it before I tugged us toward the door. “Yes, Frankie, I promise I will be very cautious of the big, bad bakery bandits.” I laughed just thinking about the title.
Frankie, however, didn’t laugh. He scooped me up in his arms, twisting around, and planted the deepest kiss against my lips. I squeezed him tightly, only letting go when he winced as my elbow hit his ribs.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to step away, but he didn’t loosen his hold.
“Let me take you upstairs, and you can make it up to me.” The happy glean was back in his eye. One of the reasons I’d fallen in love with the man in the first place.
“What about the bakery?” How did I make him understand the limited availability of a pumpkin spice cupcake? “The cupcakes?”
“Let me ravish you upstairs and then I will risk our lives so you can have a pumpkin spice cupcake,” Frankie said, nuzzling into my neck and nibbling on my earlobe.
I fell into his embrace, making sure not to put too much of my weight on him, as he was still healing. “Okay.”
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
I parked my car beside Frankie’s, excited to see he’d beaten me home. My cousin may have lost the best bookie, but Frankie gained a business partner. He’d kept me close to his side the last six months, but I’d slowly found my independence. I had to assume it was fifty percent fear I’d be kidnapped again and the other portion of him actually excited to be around me. The honeymoon phase wouldn’t last forever, but I wanted to soak up every second. I’d given up my life and career in Chicago to be with Frankie, and so far, he’d made it worth it.
I stepped out of the car and hit the key fob to lock it. Frankie always laughed and said I didn’t need to do such a thing in Pelican Bay, but I’d never get used to not locking a vehicle, even if it was in the garage. I still grew up in Chicago and was the favorite cousin to the Grandmaster. Suspicion was in my blood.
After finishing up my master’s program, I stepped in to help Frankie. My first project was rebuilding the warehouse Westley destroyed. Frankie let me take over the entire thing and only asked that I give updates every night.
I opened the back door and shooed the big tuxedo kitten from the counter.
“Off, Spencer. Don’t let Frankie see you getting hair everywhere,” I chastised.
Spencer stretched, yawned, and then waited for me to pick him up and place him on the floor.
“Spoiled thing.”
We’d found the kitten as a poor baby hiding under the front porch. At first Frankie said absolutely no cats in the house, but after a bath, collar, and six hundred and thirty-five dollars in cat supplies, he relented on the condition we named him Spencer. An odd request, but I didn’t argue with it.
“Was that cat on the counter?” asked Maria.
I sat my purse where he’d been to cover up any left behind hair. “No, Spencer doesn’t do that. He’s a good boy.”
I eyed Spencer, hoping he got the hint as Maria mumbled something in the dining room.
I didn’t have time to worry about it then. I had good news about the warehouse. Construction had moved along well, and I figured we’d finish before the middle of summer, a whole two months earlier than planned. In my excitement at telling Frank the good news, I didn’t hear the yelling until I passed the kitchen and made it almost to the dining room.
“I’ll fucking kill you,” Frankie’s voice blared through the house, and I tensed, my steps coming to a stop. Was he on the phone, yelling at someone or berating them in person? I never wanted to walk in on business when it came to one of his men.
The return threat was unexpected, and the voice froze me to my core. “Not before I kill you. You’re a slow ass draw.”
Oh no.
