Page 68 of Beautiful Rush
I’d forgotten how intently Anthony listened. How closely he studied my face while I talked. I tried not to fidget under his gaze as I talked. I told him about my job and the muscle cars we restored. I told him that my brothers were both married and that they were happy. And I told him about my pride and joy, the Dodge Charger. “She’s a beauty. You’d love her.”
He smiled. “You and your cars.”
“You’re the one who taught me to drive. You’re the one who made me fall in love with cars.”
“What about a boyfriend? Do you have one of those?” His tone was casual, but he was watching my face closely.
I shrugged. “Nobody special.” The words felt like acid on my tongue. Deacon was special. But something had stopped me from telling Anthony about him. While Deacon was undercover, I would keep his secret safe. I would never want to do anything to jeopardize his assignment. Maybe that’s why I felt the need to expand on my answer. Or maybe it was the way Anthony studied my face, like he didn’t quite believe me. “I didn’t come to Brooklyn to find a boyfriend.”
“That’s good to hear.”Was it? “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you too. So, what have you been doing since I last saw you?”
“A little bit of this and a little bit of that.”
I laughed. “Thanks for clearing that up.” I wanted to ask where he’d been all this time, but I knew he wouldn’t answer that question, any more than he would give me an honest answer as to what he’d been doing for the past ten months.
He refilled his glass and topped up mine, even though I’d barely touched it. Two sips had been enough to remind me of things I’d rather forget. My father had poured me a glass of this whiskey the night I found out that Sasha was dead. We were sitting on the private terrace of the luxury hotel built on the cliffs of Positano, with a view of the Mediterranean. I hadn’t shed a single tear. Something inside me died that day, right along with Sasha.
“How long will you be here?” I asked Anthony, although the real question on my lips was:Where were you when Sasha died? You didn’t come to Italy with us.
Why was I thinking like this?
“I have some business here. Depends how long it takes to wrap things up.”
Again, that wasn’t an answer. I wondered what his business was. It could be anything. Drugs, guns, money laundering. He could be a hit man for all I knew. Which was probably why I hadn’t divulged any information about Deacon. Unless Anthony had gone straight, which I doubted, he and Deacon needed to stay away from each other. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Anthony probably wouldn’t be in town for long and Deacon was MIA.
We talked a while longer, small talk really, something to fill in the space and the silence until he checked his watch for the time—a Cartier tank watch on a black leather band, a birthday present from my father a few years ago. I used to have the female version, another item I had sold at the pawn shop. Anthony stood to go, tugging down the cuffs of his dress shirt and brushing non-existent lint off the shoulders of his suit jacket, the gesture so familiar to me that I stared. Slack-jawed. Had Anthony always done that without my noticing? Was it even a big deal?
“I have some business to take care of.”
My gaze snapped to his face, taking me out of my reverie as the words sunk in. Of course, he did. Because everyone had business to take care of at eleven o’clock at night. I laughed under my breath.
“What’s so funny?”
I shook my head. Anthony had never liked being laughed at. He took himself too seriously for that. “Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.” But it wasn’t true. There was a time I would have been ecstatic to see him, but my time away from Miami had changed me. Made me look at everything differently, including Anthony.
“You too, Babygirl.”
I snorted. “That’s a stupid nickname.”
He gave me a mock pout. “It’s cute.”
“I’m not cute.”
“I know. You’re beautiful. You always have been.”
I swallowed, not sure what to do with his words. This night felt off. I felt like I was cheating on Deacon. Which was ridiculous. Anthony was an old friend. A big part of my life growing up. He’d always been there for me. I owed him for everything he’d done for me over the years and I needed to remember the good things, not feed the doubts.
“I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow night.”
I smiled. “I’d like that.”
He returned my smile. “Good. I’ll pick you up at eight. And Keira…it’s probably for the best that you don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
Another secret. His tone was casual, but I heard the underlying warning.Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.“I won’t say a word.”
“You were always good at keeping secrets.”
