Page 40 of Memphis

And he can’t be serious.

Because…what the fuck?

Just when I started thinking maybe he wasn’t as much of a dick as I believed him to be, he pulled this shit.

Son of a bitch!

Literally.

“You have got to be playing!” I shouted, sitting on the side of my bed in one of my best outfits. It was a wrap-style dress in a bright shade of red and I looked good in it, but if I’d known I was dressing for my funeral, I would’ve chosen some sackcloth or something.

Standing over me with his arms crossed at his chest, he shook his big-ass head with a stupid-ass smile on his dumb-ass face. “No, I’m not playing. This is part of our agreement, remember? I saved your sister’s life, and you agreed to?—”

“How can you profess to love me and actually hold me to an agreement I made out of desperation?!”

“Easily. Come on,” he ordered, proffering me his hand.

I knocked it away and stood, stalking to the bedroom door with his laughter following me.

Once in my living room, my stomach dropped. This shit was really happening. Like, for real.

“I would’ve invited your family, but I figured you wouldn’t want me to,” Bo said, his mouth on my ear.

“Definitely not.”

“You wanna call Jerryn and have him come over?”

“No. Why is the Mexico Italian here?” I asked, referring to the man who helped me out of the tunnel. He was standing in front of my wall-mounted TV wearing a shiny black suit with a damn gun in one hand and a book in the other. Was that a…Bible?

“Right! You passed out and shit before I could introduce y’all. King, this is Gianluca, also known as 75GL. He’s an Agency vet like you, and the lady sitting on the sofa is his wife, Jessi, or 4D22. She’s been with us for a while, too.”

Despite my distress, I could see that the tall, handsome Gianluca and petite, chocolate-skinned Jessi made for a gorgeous couple as they both smiled and greeted me. Jessi wore a demure pink dress and had a forty-five cradled in her hands.

“Okay, now I know his name, but why is he here? Why aretheyhere?” I asked.

“Gianluca got ordained just for this occasion. He’ll be officiating. Jessi is our witness,” Bo informed me.

“Don’t we need a license or something?” I questioned him.

“It’s sitting over on the kitchen counter waiting for your signature,” he said.

I didn’t bother asking how he got one without me being present. I mean, did it really matter?

My stomach gurgled as Bo grasped my hand and nodded at the Italian. “We’re ready.”

Gianluca said, “Gotcha, boss. Uh…shit, let me put this down.” Then he placed his gun on my lovely glass coffee table with a painfulping.

“You got me, baby?” he directed to his wife who tapped her gun in response.

Good Lord. What the fuck kind of wedding was this?

“Okay, so…we’re gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Uh, I’ma skip some of this script, Boss. That okay with you? Me and the missus gotta head back home to the kids, know-what-I-mean?” the Italian asked in the thickest New York accent I’d ever heard in my life.

“Yep, got it,” Bo affirmed.

“All right, so Boss, do you take her as your wife?”

“I do,” Bo said loud and proud.

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