Velvet Fire - Ashby Crime Family Romance

“You sure about that?”

“No,” I told him defensively. “But Bonnie says religion is all about faith, knowing and believing even when you can’t be sure. I have that. Or at least I think I do.” I wasn’t entirely sure but Father Eric assured me that he’d even had his faith tested multiple times over the years and this stuff was his job so I figured it was okay if I didn’t have it all figured out.

“Sounds like believe what I tell you, not your lying eyes.” Max shrugged again, having spoken his piece. “But like I said, if you’re happy so am I.”

“Thanks, Uncle Max.”

“But I’m not happy about that Porsche dropping you off just before the sun came up.”

Damn, busted. “That Porsche saved me from some creep who spiked my drink.”

“What?” Jana was on her feet and at my side in an instant. “Are you all right, honey?”

“I am now, thanks to Virgil. The driver of the Porsche,” I clarified and gave them a heavily sanitized version of my night.

“Virgil have a last name?” Max grunted.

“Probably.” It was an oversight on my part not to ask for his last name or his number. “I guess I’ll just have to get Uncle Jag to help me find him.” Jag was a computer wizard like Peaches, but unlike Peaches, he wouldn’t ask a million questions in exchange for his help. “Or Vivi.”

Max groaned. “Leave it to that Goddamn Gunnar to toss my beautiful niece into my lap to test my patience. And willpower.”

“Just think, a few more weeks and y’all could be rid of me forever.” It was kind of a sad thought, leaving them. I’d lived with Max and Jana as soon as I was eligible to live off-campus. There was a learning curve but for the most part, I’d had a good time.

Max frowned. “You can stay as long as you want. As soon as that diploma is in your hand, I can stop being nice.”

I gasped in mock horror. “This was you being nice all these years?”

“Yep.”

“Cleaning guns when my date came for the Spring Formal?”

“Dirty guns might not work when you need them to,” he shot back, his expression serious.

“And Homecoming this year?”

Max shrugged. “It wasn’t a grave and it’s not my fault your little boyfriend didn’t understand that.”

Jana laughed and wrapped her arms around Max, gazing up at him with love in her eyes. “Hearing you two talk about the good times makes me wish we had a few more kids to add some love to this place again.”

Max glared at me, a smile on his face. “I’ve changed my mind. Leave now and run fast.” He didn’t mean it, which was good, because I didn’t want to leave Nevada, or Max and Jana behind.

Not yet, anyway.

***

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d make it today.” Bonnie looked up at me, her worried expression at odds with her well-rested, fresh faced church look.

“What happened to you?”

Thank goodness I stopped for a third cup of coffee on my way to Sunday Mass, because whatever had been put in my drink had left a lingering headache. I dropped down in the pew right beside Bonnie and blew out a breath. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it after mass.”

Bonnie nodded; her big hazel eyes filled with concern as they searched me for any sign that I’d been hurt last night. “You promise me you’re all right?”

“I promise. But if you keep talking, I think Father Eric’s daggers might pierce both our hearts.” Bonnie looked forward and caught the priest’s mildly amused expression, when sent her into a blushing fit that would have been laughable, if I wasn’t in the crosshairs of Father Eric’s blue gaze.

“Always getting me in trouble,” she mumbled and reached for her hymn book with a smile. It was true, I was the resident troublemaker between us, partying nearly every night of the week without compromising my GPA. Bonnie was one of my suite-mates freshman year in college and she was definitely the outlier, the prim Catholic girl who hardly ever drank or partied.

I turned her into a partier, if not much of a drinker and she turned me into a churchgoer. I didn’t officially convert or whatever but every Sunday I met Bonnie out front and we’d enjoy Sunday Mass together.

On Saturdays, I’d even show up on my own for confession. I didn’t know if that made me a religious person or not, but I liked talking to Father Eric and there was something about mass that I found soothing. Maybe it was the traditions and rituals that had a significance that seemed bigger than life to me. I was fascinated by it, so I kept coming.

“Before we begin today’s service, I want to say a prayer for Father Roman Hargrave, who was found dead yesterday morning and for the lost souls who took his life.” A collective gasp sounded throughout the church as his words sank in.