As much as I wanted to spend time with her, the prospect of a thirty-hour road trip with her sisters bitching in the back seat wasnotmy idea of fun.
“How much do you want to know?” I queried as I thought about her insistence this morning that I’d hidden something from her.
I wouldn’t tell her she was bang on the money.
She’d been surprisingly forgiving so far. Learning I’d cross-border stalked her? That I’d had a friend hack into only God knew which federal server to find out where she’d be vacationing? I wasn’t that much of an idiot. Nobody would forgive me those sins—not even myàncilu.
A scowl creased her brow. “Does anyone like to be kept in the dark?”
“There are different levels of dark, aren’t there? I’m trying to figure out which kind you prefer.”
“When it’s to do with planes and we’re on them, you can lie to me,” she said immediately, glaring at the offending vehicle. “Is it about that?”
“No.”
“Oh.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Okay, so, I hate being lied to.”
“Everyone hates that,” I dismissed. “I refuse to argue with you. I’ll tell you as much as you need to know because tonight,bedda mia, we’re sharing a fucking bed and no amount of bullshit will get in the way of that happening.”
That had her pupils dilating. “I totally agree.”
“Good.”
“Some things I don’t need to know,” she conceded edgily.
“You mean if I kill someone.”
“Isn’t that for the best? For your defense?”
Keeping my voice calm, I remarked, “Not if we’re married.”
Blown pupils and wide-as-fuck eyes were a damn good look on her.
Before she could sputter out a retort about how we barely knew each other,yadda, yadda, yadda,I explained, “I had the pilot land on turf that belongs to… not necessarily an ally, not like Martinez, but we work with them. It’s an MC’s territory and these fuckers are a pain in my ass.”
“They’re from Texas. It’s that whole ‘don’t tread on me,’ thing, isn’t it?”
“Maybe. I don’t give a shit about that—” My cell rang, breaking off my grumbling. “At fucking last.” I hit connect. “Wolfe, it’s Custanzu Valentini.”
“Hmm, you wanna tell me why a fucking jet landed in my backyard?”
“Mechanical issues. I’m sorry. TheFamigghiawill cover any damages?—”
“Bet your ass you will. Now, what the fuck kind of mechanical issues, and how long until you’ll be leaving my turf?”
“Wolfe!” someone chided in the background. I heard a brouhaha, then the woman popped on the line. “Hello, Custanzu.”
“Lucifer?” Kitty shot me a startled look at the woman’s name. “Is that you?”
“It had better be or I’ll have to kill the bitch who stole my man’s phone from his ear while sitting on his lap.”
The lilt of her accent was thicker than grits. I’d come to learn that she put it on when talking to us. She liked to play up the city slicker vs. country bumpkin act.
Worked, too.
If Rory hadn’t told us the bitch’s game, we’d have been paying an extra five grand per crate.
“Always a pleasure, Lucifer,” I greeted, words that’d have my mother anointing herself with the cross. “How are you doing?”
