Page 38 of Filthy Little Games

An hour later, even with every variety of car freshener the gas station had, hanging from the rearview and vents, I still think I may throw up.

“We should’ve done this last night,” I mutter, my voice nasally because I’ve resorted to holding my nose.

“We weren’t married last night. Spousal privilege can’t be backdated.” Creed is leaning to his left, half his head out the window.

“You couldn’t have worked your mobster magic and convinced that drunken judge who performed the ceremony to backdate the paperwork?”

“He may have refused,” Creed replies tightly. “Besides, it’s over and done now.”

Reaching for one of the air fresheners hooked to the vent, he pulls it off and tosses it into the backseat. It’s soon followed by a few hanging ones too.

“Like that will help?”

“We just need a distraction, something else to think about.” He turns up the satellite radio tuned in to a rock station loud enough to hear it but still talk to each other. “Why don’t you tell me what you were referring to last night when you said you get fucked over for free?”

“I’d rather talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“How smooth you are at lying.”

“When have I fucking lied to you?” he snaps, sounding offended.

“It wasn’t to me, but that was a nice little fictional story you came up with earlier when you were telling Lorenzo how we met.”

I probably should’ve chosen anything else to talk about rather than bringing up Creed’s brother.

“It wasn’t a lie,” he says softly. “Carmine convinced me to go over and talk to you that night. Of course, he didn’t know what you wanted at the time, but he did say to thank him in my wedding toast for not taking you home.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“He even snapped a photo of you. That’s what I used to have a PI track you down.”

“Oh.”

“I could’ve used the club video if I needed to, but the photo was better quality, much clearer. After I was released from jail, it only took a day for a private investigator to give me your name, address, and employer. I waited until after the funeral to track you down.”

So that’s how he found me. From a photo his brother took just moments before he was killed.

And I know that this is it, the perfect opening for me to explain to Creed why I did what I did that night. We’re married now. He should know.

I just hope I can trust him with all the information he needs to destroy me.

12

Creed

“Creed, there’s something I need to tell you,” Zara declares.

Her serious tone and the use of my name, possibly for the first time, momentarily distract me from the stench coming from the cargo area.

The sight of her in that sexy as fuck dress is also distracting, which is why I keep stealing glances at her.

I can’t help but try to lighten the mood by using her own words from earlier. “Let me guess. You’re also in the mafia?”

With a puff of laughter, she says, “Ha! Funny, but no. I’m just married to the mafia.”

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