Sleeping with Anemone

“More like seven.”

They both gaped at me. Valderas said, “You helped convict seven felons?”

“Make that eight. And they were all involved in murders.”

Valderas was speechless. Maroni pointed at me. “I remember reading about you in the newspapers. You’re the florist. Old man was a cop with the New Chapel PD. Am I right?”

I nodded demurely.

“Are any of these convicts out of prison?” Maroni asked.

“I doubt it. They received long sentences.”

“Any of them have family members who might be holding a grudge?” Maroni asked.

“The ones who had family, no. They were relieved to hear the guilty verdicts read.”

Maroni said, “Okay, Ms. Knight, one more thing and then you can go home. These protests against the dairy farm-got any more planned?”

“No.”

“Terrific. I’m sure Sergeant Reilly has already said as much, but my advice to you is to lay low. If someone has put a contract out on you, let’s not give him any opportunities.”

A contract? I shuddered, imagining snipers on the roof waiting for me to step outside.

“Thank you, Ms. Knight. We’ll keep you informed of our investigation.”

When I was finally released, it was well after one o’clock in the morning, and my elation at finding Tara had turned into fear for my own safety mixed with sheer exhaustion. I was so tired that as Marco and I walked to his car in the parking lot behind the sheriff’s department, I glanced at the rooftop only twice to see if I was about to be sniped. Okay, three times, but that last time I could hardly keep my eyes focused.

“If you don’t mind,” Marco said, starting up his engine, “I’m going to stop by my place and pick up a few things.”

I yawned. “What kind of things?”

“Clothes.”

I cocked one eye open. “Clothes?”

“So I have something clean to wear in the morning.” He glanced at me. “Until we know for certain that you’re out of danger, I’ll bunk down at your place and spend as much time as I can with you. No one is going to harm you on my watch. Okay?”

“I hate to keep inconveniencing you.”

“Keeping you safe isn’t an inconvenience, Abby.”

I smiled and leaned my head against the headrest. What a guy to have in my corner.

Marco’s apartment occupied the second floor of a two-story white colonial in a quiet neighborhood of older homes, with big shade trees dotting the front lawns, one-car detached garages in the back, and sidewalks cracked by tree roots.

“That’s strange,” Marco said as we pulled up to the curb behind my Corvette. “Rafe’s home. He’s supposed to be working at Down the Hatch until two in the morning.”

Hmm. Rafe was home. My car was there… “How does Rafe get to work?”

“I’ve been taking him. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering.” And sighing in relief. I stopped to give the bright yellow hood a loving rub and got a thick smudge of dirt on my glove. “I’m sorry you’re so dirty,” I whispered, gazing through the window on the passenger side.

“Are you talking to your car?”

I scoffed, which was always better than telling an outright lie.

Upstairs, we found Marco’s youngest brother, twenty-one-year-old Raphael Salvare, sprawled on the sofa, watching a movie on TV. Rafe was a younger version of Marco, dark hair, dark, sensual eyes, olive complexion, and trim build. He was slimmer than Marco, but every bit as engaging.

“Hey,” he said, grinning at me. “What’s up, Hot Stuff? Where have you two been?”

I flopped down on one of Marco’s cushy blue recliners and closed my eyes. If Marco wanted to tell him about the kidnapping, fine. I was too beat.

“Why aren’t you at the bar?” Marco asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Rafe said. “I need to talk to you about that.”

Uh-oh. I opened my eyes just enough to watch as Marco hit the remote’s OFF button and sat down on the sofa, forcing Rafe to swing his legs to the floor and sit up. “Talk.”

“Now?” Rafe whispered. “You’ve got your lady here, bro.”

“Abby doesn’t mind. Why are you home?”

Abby didmind because she was tired. But that was okay. Family matters came first, and Marco’s family had certainly had its share of problems with the youngest Salvare. Rafe had left college one semester shy of graduation, deciding he needed to find himself, but then he somehow kept forgetting to look.

His mother had put up with his laziness for a few months, then brought him with her on a visit from Ohio to see Marco and his sister Gina here in New Chapel. Ultimately, Mama Salvare left Rafe with Marco in the hopes he could straighten out his brother. Marco, being a dutiful son, had put Rafe to work at his bar doing menial labor, hoping to prove to Rafe that he needed to finish school and find a career. So far, though, Rafe seemed content to bus tables and do kitchen duty.

What he didn’t like was being questioned. “Chill out, man. I have a new job, a real job. I start tomorrow. I was going to tell you this evening, but you left before I had a chance.”

“That’s great, Rafe,” Marco said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man! Where?”

“Hooters.”

I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh.

“Doing what?” Marco asked.

“I’m learning how to bartend,” Rafe said. “I hear the tips are awesome. I even get some benefits.”

With his looks, I was betting on it. I glanced at Marco and saw the great effort he was making not to snap something like, You can learn bartending at Down the Hatch!

“Well?” Rafe asked. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Yes,” Marco said slowly. “Yes, I am. You got out there and found something on your own.” Marco gave him a smile-at great effort-then rose. “Look after things here, okay? I’ll be staying at Abby’s apartment. I just stopped to pack a bag. And by the way, I wouldn’t tell Mama about your new job.”

“Not a problem. And I wouldn’t tell Mama about your new living quarters.” Rafe flicked the TV on and flopped back on the sofa. “You kids have fun.”

Marco grumbled all the way to my apartment, until I woke up enough to grumble back, “If you don’t want Rafe working at Hooters, just say so. He should know how you feel.”

“I can’t rain on his parade.”

“Is his parade made of sugar? You’re supposed to be his mentor.”

“He needs my approval right now. I have to be supportive.”

Marco called it supportive, but I called it being dishonest. If I hadn’t been so spent, I would have told him so.

When we pulled into my parking space at the apartment building, Marco scanned the area before he let me get out of the car. Then, keeping a sharp eye on our surroundings, he hustled me into the building. Once inside the two-bedroom apartment, we were greeted by our furry white beast, who came galloping up the hallway, excited to have playmates.

“Are you going to keep me company tonight, Simon?” Marco asked, crouching to scratch the cat behind his ears. Marco was the only male Simon trusted. The furball had disdained my former fiance, Pryce, which he demonstrated by puking on Pryce’s loafers. It wasn’t the main reason Pryce broke our engagement, but it probably came in a close second.

“Simon isn’t allowed into my bedroom anymore,” I said. “He snores.”

“I thought I’d camp out on the sofa tonight,” Marco said, reeling me in for a kiss. “It’s a better defensive