Catrina’s voice carried down the hall, albeit quietly, making Catherine slow in her walk. She was late as it was for her first day of school, but the conversation happening in the kitchen was apparently about her, and so she wanted to hear it.
“She’s calmed down, Dante, especially this past summer,” Catrina said, “and I’m not sure about you, but I would give him a hell of a lot of credit for that.”
“You don’t know that it’s because of Cross. It could have been a lot of things that did it, Cat.”
“I know that nothing we did worked, bello. I know that the more you took from her, or punished her, or caged her in, the worse she became. I know she wouldn’t talk, and when she did, she raged. I know that she could look me in the face, and not look at me at the same time. I know she was … she was not her.”
“Sure, but—”
“She is a lot more like the old her when she is with him than when she is not,” Catrina said softly. “So, perhaps you should take another step back here where he and she are concerned. Give it some more time.”
“How much more can I step back?” Her father scoffed. “Jesus Christ, Catrina, I can’t step back more than I already have, honestly. She runs the roads with him. She’s out all damn day and night with him, and she’s only seventeen.”
“Eighteen in a few months.”
Dante grumbled at that. “Listen, I can’t do more, amore.”
“You could,” her mother insisted, “like being pleasant when he’s here with her, or trying. You could keep your opinions quiet because sure we’re not real pleased with the freedom she has. Still, we’re kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place, but here’s the thing, Dante. Either we continue like we have been with her, and we still get the phone calls about where she is. We get to see her in the morning either because he brings her home, or she sleeps in her own bed, and we know what is going on. Or … we go through what we did with her last year again, and once she turns eighteen, she’s going to bolt. She will run, and you will not be fast enough to catch her. Mark my words.”
“I’m trying. Cat, I tried, and I am still trying.”
“Yeah, I know, but give her a bit more legroom to move and give him the credit that he’s kept her a little closer to the ground this summer.”
“Yes, but the summer is over,” Dante murmured, “so what now?”
“She smiles. She’s happy.”
“With him, you mean. That’s what you’re not saying.”
“Trying not to because it upsets you.”
“Because it’s always something with him,” Dante muttered heavily. “And I am not interested in waiting to see what will come next.”
“Dante, she—”
“Smiles. Happy. I got it, Cat. I don’t understand why she stopped being those things to begin with, but that was probably him, too.”
“No, I don’t think so, if anything, his influence might have kept her from completely going off the deep end last year.”
“Really? Because what I saw was my daughter partying on weekends, and getting dropped off by him in the mornings. I saw her sneaking out and fucking off, and most of the time, he was usually involved by the end of the day. How many times did they break up and get back together over a period of a few months again? How many, Cat?”
Catrina hummed a disagreeing sound. “You’re assuming because of circumstance, but we don’t know for sure that he was the cause of all those things.”
“I have seen enough and I know enough to—”
Catherine walked into the kitchen, deciding she had enough of eavesdropping, and wanted the conversation to be done with. Her parents both made an effort to step away from one another and both grabbed different things to make it appear like they were doing something.
Smooth.
“Morning,” Catherine said, shifting her messenger bag on her shoulder.
“Morning,” her parents echoed.
“You hungry?” her father asked.
Catherine shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t have time to eat.”
“This good?”
Dante held up an apple.
“Sure, Daddy.”
Catherine caught the apple her father tossed across the kitchen. She took a bite, mumbling a thanks as she gathered the rest of her shit for the day.
“Last first day of school,” Catrina said, coming up beside her daughter. “It’s hard to believe you’re a senior and you’re never going to have a first day again after this.”
“She still has college, Catrina.” Her father chuckled. “And you’re already working on being late, Catty.”
Senior year was sure to be fun if she started it out on the wrong foot by being late.
Catherine gave her parents a dirty look over her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Ha, ha. Keep laughing.”
A horn blared outside, making Catherine peer outside the kitchen window that overlooked the front drive. “Shit, I got to go.”
“Is that—”
“Cross,” Catherine filled in before her father could finish. “Yeah, he’s taking me this morning. I asked, so.”
Dante passed Catrina a look that was returned with a shrug. Catherine didn’t have time for her parents’ silent conversations. She had settled down a lot over the summer, giving them less anxiety and heartache than she had for nearly the entire previous school year, but she knew they still worried.
It had gotten to a point where her parents just took a step back, and waited her out. It worked, for the most part, but not because of them.
She was doing better, mentally and emotionally. Her anxious spells and darker thoughts were easier to work through, or sometimes she had long periods where they didn’t bother her at all. She didn’t explain that to her parents, though. Just like how she never explained to them that for almost an entire year, she had done everything possible she could to get rid of her anxiety and depression that never seemed to wane for very long.
And in the process, terrified, angered, and disappointed her parents. Over and over and over again.
Catherine sighed loudly. “I do have to get going, so if you have something to say, now would be the time to do it.”
Her father glanced to the window, and then back to Catherine. “There’s nothing, dolcezza. Have a good day.”
His face didn’t look like there was nothing. He was not good at hiding his feelings, but she appreciated that he at least made the effort.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Dante waved a hand. “Positive. Tell Cross to drive safe.”
Her mother kissed her on the cheek as Catherine passed her by. “You’re almost done, Catty.”
Yep.
One more year.
Catherine still didn’t know what she was going to do after she finished high school. She didn’t know which college she wanted to apply for, or what programs she might consider taking. She had none of that shit figured out, yet.
She should probably get on that.
Soon.
“Bye,” Catherine called over her shoulder.
Her parents’ echoing sentiments followed her down the hallway.
Catherine darted out of the house, and across the drive to climb into Cross’s Rover. He leaned over in his seat, caught her chin between his forefinger and thumb, and brought her close enough for a kiss. Despite him being there to pick her up for school, she could tell he hadn’t gotten a hell of a lot of sleep the night before if the darkness under his eyes was any indication.
“Work?” she asked.
Cross shrugged, and sat back in the driver’s seat to put the Rover in reverse. “Yeah, babe. Long night.”
Catherine frowned. “I could have driven myself today, Cross.”
“I promised to take you, didn’t I?”
He did.
And he always kept his promises.
“And I’ll be there to pick you up when you’re out this afternoon,” he added.
“Are you going to get some sleep in between?”
Cross laughed dryly. “Probably not, but it is what it is.”
She didn’t press him for details. She never did. He probably wouldn’t give her any if she did ask, to be honest. All she knew was that he was doing his thing with his family, and for his step-father. He could be at one part of the city in the morning, and on the opposite end at night. She didn’t even know what he was doing most of the time, but he made sure she knew where he was, should she need him.
“It’s going to be weird this year,” Catherine said, digging through her messenger bag to make sure she hadn’t forgotten her laptop. “Without you, I mean.”
Cross reached over and palmed her cheek gently. “You’ll be fine, babe.”
“Well, yeah. But still.”
He glanced down at her bag, and his gaze flashed with something unknown. She didn’t miss it.
“What, Cross?”
“You’re not going to be dealing at school, right?”
Catherine rolled her eyes upward. “Cross—”
“It’s dangerous, Catty. It’s stupid, too. You get caught, and you’re fucked.”
“I’m aware.”
He did not like the fact she was still working with her cousins, or the places she went to or the things she sometimes did to supply the demand that was all around her. She still liked it, though, and it still gave her that sense of empowerment and control like nothing else.
“I’m not going to be dealing at school,” Catherine said. “I wasn’t doing it last year, remember?”
“No, you dealt after school, and off the property. Problem is, you also had your locker searched twice because you’ve got a flock of jealous cunts that don’t like the attention you get, Catherine, and rat on you every chance they get.”
He had a point.
“Which is why I’m not doing that at all this year,” she explained.
“Who is going to be dealing for the school, then?”
Catherine didn’t know. “I mean, they know where to find me, and when I will show up with whatever for them. If they want something in between, they’re probably catching a habit that I don’t need to feed anyway, right?”
“Just be careful.”
“I am, Cross.”
The rest of the forty-five minute drive to the Academy was mostly silent. Catherine fiddled with the radio for a while, and then looked over the gold-tinted gun Cross kept stashed in his dashboard. Cross kept one eye on her, and one on the road.
It was only when he pulled into the drop-off for the school that he finally gave her all of his attention. She liked having all of him a lot better.
“One year left,” he told her.
Catherine grinned. “That’s a little surreal, isn’t it?”
“Shit, my last year was over before I knew what happened.”
She hoped hers was the same.
“Cross?”
Dark eyes fell on her, making her smile. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
Catherine climbed over the middle section, and kissed Cross hard enough to make her lips go numb. She pulled away, only to have him follow just so that he could kiss her again. Her laughter filled the car, while he just flashed a sinful smile at her.
“Thank you for the summer,” she said.
Cross didn’t ask what she meant.
She supposed he didn’t need to.
Beaches. Conch shells. Leather. Abandoned roads.
Him. Her. Them.
Over and over and over again.
“A thousand times over, Catherine, if that’s what you need.”
“I need you, Cross.”
“You’ve already got that, too.”
Yeah, she did.
Fall made way for winter quickly. Catherine barely even knew it was happening until she stepped out of her Lexus on her last day of school before Christmas break, and felt the first snowflakes fall.
She stared up at the afternoon sky, taking in the gray clouds and the white tufts falling down. Usually they would get their first snowfall a little earlier in December, but it held off this year.
Catherine didn’t even mind the chill.
She also didn’t notice the black car parked in her family’s driveway until she damn near ran into the back of it. She didn’t recognize the vehicle, and guessing by the sticker on the license plate, it was a rental.
Once inside the house, the voices filtering down from the kitchen made Catherine head that way. She didn’t even bother to kick off her shoes, or put her jacket away. Not when she heard a familiar male voice, followed by her parents, and then a woman’s response. A woman Catherine didn’t know.
Sure enough, Catherine found her parents, brother, and a pretty, young, unknown redhead sitting around their dining room table. Michel had only come home from Detroit for one month during the past summer, and on a couple of holidays the year before.
“I thought you weren’t coming home for Christmas this year?” Catherine asked from the entryway.
All eyes in the room turned on her.
Michel flashed a smile. “Nice to see you, too, little sister.”
Catherine stuck out her tongue at him. “Seriously, no one thought to tell me?”
Her parents passed a look between one another.
Catherine wondered what in the hell she missed.
“Well, you see …” her mother started to say.
“It was a surprise for us, too,” her father finished awkwardly.
Catherine ignored the strangeness happening, and looked to the woman sitting beside her brother. “Hi, I’m Catherine.”
“Gabbie,” the woman said, smiling.
She had vivid green eyes, and red hair that was not quite as deep of a shade as their mother’s. Pale like cream, with freckles dotting her cheeks and nose, she was very pretty. Certainly not Italian, but pretty. There was a nuance to the woman’s words, like she had just a hint of an accent, but not one that Catherine could place easily.
“Holy shit,” Catherine said, looking to her brother, “you brought home a girl.”
The realization came on like a tidal wave. Catherine was sure her eyes had stretched wide, because what the fuck? Michel never brought home woman to meet them. He certainly liked women enough, and apparently jumped from female to female without much thought or care to have a real relationship, but that was it.
He never stuck to one.
He certainly never brought them home.
Michel’s lips quirked up as he said, “Yeah, I guess I did, Catty.”
Dante chuckled. “Sort of.”
Gabbie’s cheeks heated with a red tint.
Catherine was suddenly reminded that something was not right here. Her parents’ strange behavior, Michel’s lack of explanation, and the stranger sitting at their table … something was going on.
“What did I miss?” Catherine asked.
No one said anything.
She turned to her brother. “You didn’t, like … knock her up or something, right?”
Because she was pretty sure that would be bad.
Michel barked out a laugh. “No.”
Gabbie rolled her eyes, saying, “Well, this has been fun, but maybe it’s time to go.”
Catrina was quick to stand from her seat when it seemed like Gabbie was going to leave. “Please stay; this was just a bit of a shock, that’s all.”
Dante nodded. “Yes, stay.”
“Seriously, what did I miss?” Catherine demanded.
Her brother cleared his throat, and lifted his left hand for Catherine to see a gold band glittering on his ring finger. “Meet my wife, Catherine.”
Well, then …
Shit.
“Wait,” Cross said, tipping his chair back on two legs, “so he just came home married and with her?”
“Yeah, basically.”
Catherine balanced herself on Cross’s lap, straddling him while the music in the club pumped behind them. He was too young to be drinking, but he had a glass of whiskey sitting on the table that he had been nursing for a half hour. Catherine was supposed to be working, but she was waiting on Andino to show up first.
“My mother would kill me,” Cross said.
“You think?”
“If I came home married, and she hadn’t even met the girl? Fucking right, she would pickle my goddamn nuts.”
Catherine giggled. “That’s awful.”
“No, that’s me being nice because it would probably be worse.”
“After everything you put your parents through as a teenager, that’s what would send them into a rage, huh? You getting married without a word?”
Cross considered that for a moment. “Not both, just my mother. Cal wouldn’t give a fuck, as long as I was happy. After the pickling bit, Ma would calm her ass down, too.”
“Well apparently Michel did a bad thing,” Catherine said, “because I overheard them talking later, and I guess they can’t go back to Detroit now.”
Cross’s hands teased up her dress and skimmed her bare thighs as he asked absently, “What do you mean, bad?”
Catherine shifted on his lap again, feeling talented fingers slide along the line of her panties. If they weren’t in such a dark corner of the club, she might have told him to knock it off, but they were alone at the table for now, and her back was turned.
No one could see.
“I mean, she’s from a family like ours are, and—”
Cross let the chair fall to the floor, and his hands left her skirt. “Shit, seriously?”
Catherine pouted. “I liked where your hands were, you know.”
“Calm down, you’re going back to my apartment tonight, anyway.”
“Yeah, but right now you were working on something and I’d like to get back to that, Cross.”
“In a second. So, she’s from a crime family, they eloped, and then took off?”
Catherine shrugged. “Yep.”
“That’s why it’s bad,” he told her, “and you think she’s Irish?”
“Yep, definitely is.”
Cross whistled low, and then his hands were back up under her skirt again as he tipped the chair onto two legs once more. “Michel’s got some fucking stones on him, I guess.”
Catherine grinned, sighing as his fingers skimmed under her panties, his thumb circling her clit while his others teased at her entrance. Slow and steady, sure and knowing. “Is it really that bad?”
“Yeah, it’s not great, Catty. You don’t marry a girl from another family without permission, which is probably why they took off back here. Michel’s got protection here, and nobody’s dumb enough to march onto Marcello territory and start making demands. That’s how people die.”
“Okay, let’s just move on from people dying while your hands are between my thighs.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Or maybe your type of fun is just wrong.”
Cross shook his head. “Never. My kind of fun is what gets you off, babe.”
He was right.
She kind of loved him for it.
Cross’s thumb circled harder and faster on her clit. His fingers slid in and curled roughly in just the right spot, and Catherine caught his sinful gaze with her own. His tongue peeked out to tease her as he winked, and … fuck.
“Quiet,” he murmured, “or my ass is out of this place, along with yours.”
Catherine buried her face in her hands to keep quiet as she shook her way through an orgasm that was pure, blissful torture.
“I hate you,” she mumbled.
Lies.
“You love me,” he challenged.
Truth.
She flicked her hair back over her shoulder, and batted his hands out from under her skirt. Cross laughed, reaching up to sweep his thumb over her bottom lip and let her have a taste of what he’d just been touching.
Tart.
Hot.
Sweet.
“I don’t think my brother is the bad one at all,” Catherine said.
“Oh?”
“But we definitely are.”
Cross let the chair fall to the floor and made her stand up with him. “We definitely are. Get out there and dance for me, before Andino gets here and I have to disappear for a while.”
Catherine sulked. “You could stay, you know. Out of sight, and don’t get involved when I’m dealing. That’s all.”
“Catty, I wanna kill every guy that fucking smiles at you, so I don’t think you understand how hard it is to watch you work. It’s rough; everyone is lucky I don’t burn the goddamn building down. I will be back, and then we will head to my place, okay?”
“Fine.”
“Don’t pout.”
His hand smacked her ass hard overtop her skirt.
Catherine winked over her shoulder. “So hey, think you can get me off on the floor, too?”
“Is that supposed to be a real question? Because you know how I am with a challenge and all.”
“I mean, whatever it takes.”
Cross smirked.
Catherine shivered.
Yeah, they were definitely the bad ones.
As long as they were bad together.