I hesitated. “Wes quit. And I’m just…upset…because we were close.”
“I can be your friend, too, you know.”
I scowled. As nice as Tommy was, I had no interest in a personal relationship of any kind with him. From the very beginning, I’d had such natural chemistry with Wes. Nothing had ever felt forced.
“I appreciate that, Tommy. But what I really need right now is some space.”
“Okay. Gotcha. Well, holler if that changes, okay?”
“Thanks. I appreciate you checking in.”
Getting under the covers, I wallowed in my bed for a while until my phone rang.
My heart skipped a beat as I considered whether it might be Wes. But when I looked at the caller ID, it was my father.
I inhaled and picked up. “Hi.”
“I let Wes go.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“I wasn’t sure if you knew. But I’m letting you know I fired him. He’s not competent enough for the job anymore.”
“He told me he was quitting.”
“He can’t quit,” my father snapped. “I fired him.”
Right.In some ways, my father was like a toddler you had to coddle. I played along with his delusion.
“Well, I agree that was the best decision…to let him go. He wasn’t able to work after the shooting.”
“I didn’t like how tight you seemed to be with him, either. So this is for the best.”
“Is that the only reason you called…to tell me you fired Wes?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then. Have a good night.”
After I got off the phone, I stared into space. I knew for certain that Wes was better off not working for my father anymore—or rather, better off notpretendingto work for my father while he really worked for the cops. Despite how this had ended, I was happy that he’d gotten away. In fact, I was envious that Wes had the option to detach himself from Vince, something I’d do if I could.An eye for an eye, I supposed. Wes had saved my life, and I’d saved him.
Only now I had to live with the guilt of not stopping my father’s inevitable capture.
After moping around my room most of the day, I eventually made my way out to the living room. I looked down and found that in his haste to leave, Wes had actually left something behind: one of his signature black hooded sweatshirts. Picking it up off the floor, I held it in my hands.
Don’t do it.
But it was too tempting. I lifted it to my face and took in a long whiff of his delicious, masculine scent. It was fascinating how one smell could bring on a deluge of memories and feelings.
Deep down, I did believe he’d never meant to hurt me. Tears once again rolled down my cheeks. Always the glutton for punishment, I slipped the sweatshirt over my head and wrapped my arms around myself. As I closed my eyes, for a moment I imagined it was his arms around me. I doubted anyone would ever make me feel so safe and protected again.
Speaking of self-punishment, I opened my laptop and decided to read some of the news articles I’d been avoiding. Articles with titles like:
Bodyguard Nearly Dies Saving Mafia Princess
Ginocassi’s Guard May Have Been Target
Hollywood Hit: When the Mafia and Tinseltown Collide
