Lady Luck - Ashby Crime Family

“Kidding,” she said and took her seat. “I don’t want to make you jealous, Jas. But thanks for not being a dickhead about it. Anymore.”

Terry took his usual seat beside Jasper and whispered a word of thanks, which Jas accepted and clapped Terry on the back.

“Since I’m being not a dickhead, I think it’s time we make some changes.” He stood and grabbed his recently refilled glass of wine and took the seat that had remained empty for the past twenty odd years, at the other end of the table.

A collective gasp went up around the table from my brothers and Kat as Jasper strode toward the chair once occupied by our father. He sank into the seat we’d honored every Sunday dinner by setting a place though it remained empty as tribute to the man who once headed this family. By that move, Jasper officially announced his position as the head of all that Ashby surveyed, and pointed to his just vacated place beside Sadie.

“Take it, Terry,” he said, his voice and presence indicating his authority. “That seat is yours now, brother.”

Sadie raised her glass in the air with a smile. “It’s about damn time,” she said, her gaze bounding from Kat to Jasper and finally landing on Terry. “For all of you. Now, let’s eat and talk business.”

This was usually the part of dinner where I tuned out and focused on the platters piled high with delicious food and the endless supply of top shelf alcohol. But lately, I was more invested in learning as much as I could about Ashby’s enemies, since knowing them could mean the difference between life and death. So I shoveled roast and carrots and potatoes in my mouth while doing my best to look mildly uninterested.

Jasper’s words meant more to me now that he’d taken over his father’s spot, technically Sadie’s former spot, at the foot of the table. “Still no word about Savannah Rhymer,” he growled.

“Mueller is laying low,” Kat said, “but his friends are still staying in one of the suites.”

“Any word on Molly?” Madison mostly—and wisely—stayed silent during talk of Ashby business, other than to ask about her missing sister.

Guilt flashed in Kat’s eyes and she shook her head. “Nothing yet, but that means she hasn’t turned up at a morgue either.” Kat was definitely hiding something but Madison didn’t seem to realize it. “Oh, and I spotted a certain redheaded Fed snooping around Emerald Isle.”

Sadie and Jasper sat up straighter simultaneously. “What?” I couldn’t say who actually asked the question since they both spoke at once.

“She didn’t question anyone, just sat in the lobby and observed who came and who went. Poor idiot doesn’t realize she’s barking up the wrong tree.”

Emerald Isle was the crowning achievement of legit Ashby businesses and they would never destroy it by mixing it in with their other businesses.

“I wouldn’t mind if Jas put a few guys on to watch her, though.”

“Done,” he said easily, nostrils flaring in anger. “She’s the last thing we need to fucking worry about with Brendan trying to make a name for himself away from the old man.”

And so went Sunday dinner, an odd mix of loving family, ruthless business and wisecracks.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Two

Vanessa

I should’ve accepted Kat’s invitation to dinner.

It was about the thirtieth time I’d had that thought today. I puttered around the enormous, five-bedroom house that my late husband Lance had insisted on buying for us, trying to take my mind off my loneliness. Lance bought the house back when we planned for a big family. And then Lance was killed before we ever got a chance to start on our dreams. Without Lance, hell, even with Lance, this house was too big. It was too much house for two people. For one person, it was just pitiful.

So many rooms in the house sat completely empty with no furniture or décor because I was too exhausted, too depressed, too over it to do anything about those rooms. They weren’t going to be nurseries, not for a long time, if ever, so why bother with them? As for the guest rooms, how many did I need for a family who never came to visit?

My parents insisted they couldn’t cross the threshold of my home because I lived in ‘Sin City.’ They had no desire to get on the wrong side of the Lord, but it was more than that. They’d never forgiven me for leaving our small Missouri town, for wanting more out of life. For wanting a bigger life than Moose Hook, Missouri, had to offer.

They’d come to visit me in Glitz exactly one time, the day of Lance’s funeral. They’d shown up, not to support me, but to remind me that this wasn’t my home, wasn’t where I belonged. They used the death of my husband, my childhood sweetheart, and the only man I’d ever loved, to try to convince me to give up and come back home. “Where you belong,” my daddy insisted with his trademark scowl.