Turned out he was damned good at it. Thanks to his leadership, Javier and the other members of the old team would retire from the CPD with a helluva lot more to fall back on than a cop’s pension. With incarceration jamming up his own retirement plans, he’d intended, upon his escape, to use the money to fund his exodus overseas. Many African nations lacked an extradition treaty with the United States, and in such a country, the sum he had earned would have allowed him to live like a sultan.
But once again, the bitch was going to try to rob him of his freedom. He didn’t doubt that she, and not someone else, had discovered the money. She’d never been loyal to him, and where there was smoke, there was fire.
“I was going to track her down anyway before I left,” Dexter said. “Now she’s given me all the more reason to find her ass.”
“Explains how she vanished into thin air like she did,” Javier said. “She had your loot backing her.”
“With one point seven mil, I’d say the bitch could go just about anywhere she fucking well pleases.”
“One point seven? That much?” Javier whistled. “You need any funds in the interim, man? Something to tide you over?”
“No more favors. I’ll handle it.”
“What’s your plan then?”
“Everyone who helped her get away…everyone she loves,” Dexter said, “I’m going to fucking kill them. It’s a simple matter of respect, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, man.” Javier paused. “But what about her?”
“What do you think I’m going to do to her?” Dexter said.
“I…I guess I don’t wanna know, boss.”
“The bitch better have my money—down to the last dollar. After she gives it to me, I’m gonna make her wish her mama had used the fucking coat hanger.”
9
That evening at home, Rachel cooked dinner. She was an excellent cook, and Joshua loved to observe her at work. As he sat at the dinette table, skimming the newspaper, he watched her.
Dressed in a flannel shirt, lounge pants, and slippers, she flitted around the kitchen like a hummingbird around a flower garden, adding a sprinkle of spices here, tasting the sauce there, all the while singing in a soft, soothing voice. Under normal circumstances, she derived great pleasure from cooking, and that night, she seemed to be in an especially buoyant mood.
It puzzled him. Earlier, he’d been convinced that she was keeping something important from him, and he’d planned to watch her closely at dinner, just to be sure nothing was wrong. Eddie had advised him to let it go, and he wanted to—but he couldn’t. Not while the uneasiness lingered in his gut like an undigested meal.
“Dinner’s ready,” Rachel said, taking silverware out of the drawer. “Go wash up, baby.”
He pushed away from the table. He nearly knocked over the chair, and caught it before it hit the floor. Coco, who’d been resting nearby, scurried away and hid between Rachel’s legs.
“Sorry, Coco,” he said. “Scared you half to death, didn’t I?”
He glanced at Rachel, habitually expecting a rebuke for his clumsiness, but she only smiled—a smile of unconditional love and infinite patience. Not the smile of a woman who nursed deception in her heart.
Maybe his suspicions were totally off-base. There was a pleasant evening ahead—good food, lively conversation, perhaps tender lovemaking—and it seemed foolish to spoil it by dwelling on theories of how she might be deceiving him.
Eddie was right. He needed to let it go.
When he returned to the kitchen after washing his hands, Rachel was setting dinner on the table: shrimp scampi over linguine, sautéed zucchini, and garlic bread. Coco followed at her heels, waiting for a morsel to drop.
“Need any help?” he asked.
“You could turn on some music, light a few candles.”
“Special occasion?”
“Maybe.”
He turned on the satellite radio system and tuned it to one of their favorite R&B channels. Then he got two candles out of a cabinet, placed them inside the frosted glass hurricane lamps on the table, and carefully lit them.
They often drank wine with dinner. But after Rachel dimmed the recessed lights, she took a bottle of sparkling white grape juice out of the refrigerator.
“You mind doing the honors?” She handed the bottle to him. “I would’ve gotten champagne, but…”
“We are celebrating something.” Sitting, he twisted off the cap and filled the two wine goblets on the table.
“We’re celebrating us,” she said.
“Us?”
“Us finding each other. Falling in love. Getting married. Being happy. Do we need a special occasion to celebrate those things?”
“Not at all.”
They bowed their heads and said grace. Then they heaped their plates with food and began to eat.
“This looks delicious.” He spun linguine around his fork and speared a shrimp. “My mom’s a good cook, but she can’t touch you.”
“Please, don’t ever say that around her. She hates me enough as it is.”
He winced. His mom had been nasty toward Rachel from the beginning, considered her a corrupting influence on him. He had never understood why his mother felt that way toward her, but there was much that he would never understand about his mom.
“Hate is a pretty strong word,” he said.
“How about ‘intense dislike’? She has an intense dislike for me. She thinks I stole her precious little baby away from her, to corrupt him.”
“She’s a little overly protective, that’s all.”
“A little?”
He laughed. “Okay, she gets out of control, sometimes, I admit. But she means well. She’ll grow to love you in time.”
“I’m not holding my breath.” She chewed a piece of garlic toast. “But maybe she was right about the corrupting part. If she only knew what we did in the bedroom…”
He felt her foot slide under the cuff of his jeans and tease his calf. A warm, delicious rush of desire spread through his center.
“You must not want me to finish dinner,” he said.
“Sorry, I’m a bad girl.” She pulled her foot away, winked. “That’s how we messed around and got the first one.”
He was bringing the fork to his lips, but her remark made him pause.
“The first one?” he asked.
“When I said we were celebrating us, I meant it.” She set down her fork, drew in a deep breath. She blinked, and he saw tears welling in her eyes.
His heart whammed.
“Are you about to tell me…”
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
“Pregnant?”
“Yes, pregnant.” She was nodding, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I took an early pregnancy test this morning—twice to be sure—and it was positive. I’m pregnant with our baby, Josh. You’re going to be a daddy.”
10