Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(61)

The light rap of a female’s shoes came up behind him. A tall brunette appeared over his shoulder.

“Hey, Vance,” she said to him while looking at me. “Who’s this?”

“This is my partner, Di.”

“Oh!” She cocked her head slightly to the side. “You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.”

“Hey,” Vance said, shooting her a slant-eyed look.

“What? I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said, eyes wide with false innocence. “I gotta run. Glad you’re all right. I’ll try to stop by to see you later if I can.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said, leaning back and kissing her cheek.

I shot imaginary daggers at her. I didn’t usually cross paths with the women Vance ran with, but I didn’t like her. Not her long thin legs, not her perfectly painted nails, and not her syrupy sweet voice. She gave me a once over, and I fought gagging on her nauseating, cotton candy perfume when she walked past me. We exchanged polite simultaneous smiles then I looked back at Vance.

I released a quiet, involuntary sound of disgust.

“Ignore her,” he said, sighing. “It’s just how she is.”

“You invited some chick over here when you’re recovering from being shot? Really Vance?”

“Wait, what?” He coughed. “Bianca?”

Hearing her name, I wanted to roll my eyes, but managed to contain myself and shot him a judgmental look. “I hope she’s legal. She looked a little young.”

“No, no, no! She’s my second cousin, Vinny’s daughter.” He waved his hands defensively and laughed. The fact that he had a cousin named Vinny never stopped being funny and I giggled. “She’s in from Jersey. I found out she was going to be in town the week you were on vacation and I totally forgot she was here.” He winced. “She stopped by to say hi before she takes off, but now that she knows what happened yesterday, I’m expecting my mother and at least ten other family members to be at my door in about thirty minutes. I told her not to mention it to anyone, but she’s not gonna listen. Hurry up and get in here so we can enjoy the silence before they arrive.”

I walked in, relaxed slightly, and shuffled into the kitchen

“Aw man, I can’t wait to eat that. That soup smells amazing.” As soon as he stepped foot in the kitchen his phone rang. “And there’s Mama DeLuca now.” He stared at the phone for a second then slid it back into his shorts.

“What are you doing? You can’t send your mom to voicemail.”

“I didn’t. I silenced it.”

“Vance DeLuca! You better answer that! That’s your mother. She’s probably freaking out.”

He groaned then retrieved his phone and swiped his finger across the screen. “Mama!” he said in a jovial way trying to buffer what he knew was coming. Then he raised his one good arm and launched into a long series of defensive sounding phrases in Italian. Even though I could never understand what he said, when he talked to his mom, I could listen to him for days. The language was so pretty and much more passionate than dull, ordinary English.

He paced as he talked to his mother, and I grabbed a bowl from his cupboard to serve his soup. After a few minutes, the conversation died down in its intensity, and he walked back into the kitchen. He thanked me with a nod for taking care of the soup for him.

He sat down. “Ti voglio bene. Si….” he said through an exhausted sigh. “Si! Ciao, Mama.” He slapped his phone down on the table and sighed again. “Well, I’m guessing I have fifteen minutes at best before my house is swarmed. Get ready for the onslaught of people and food.”

The DeLuca’s had a separate freezer in their garage that was always stocked with various dishes for the “just in case” emergency situation we were in.

“Oh, your mom just loves you.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “And now she’s going to kill me. She was mad I didn’t call her yesterday to tell her what happened.”

“I’m actually surprised you hadn’t called her yet.”

“I woke up and Bianca was at my door. I hadn’t had a chance to yet.”

“How’s your stomach doing anyway?”

“Better.”

“And the shoulder?”

“Feels like I got shot, but it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.” He shrugged with his uninjured shoulder and lifted his hands slightly.

“Speaking of getting shot, there’s another reason I’m here.”

“What’s up?” He picked up his spoon and started eating. Broth glazed his lips as he ate, making them appear juicy and plump.

I licked my lips, trying to taste the broth. His kiss had been so soft and sweet. The memory I tried to bury away resurfaced. I closed my eyes and forced myself to review what I wanted to say. “Um, I need to tell you something,” I said, looking at him.

“What?” He smiled but when he read my expression, it faded.

“You remember yesterday in the hospital when you asked me what the guy said into my ear when you saw him pointing the gun in my back.”

“Yeah?”

“And I told you he was telling me not to move.”

“Right.”

“Well, he did tell me not to move but he also asked me something else.”