She tells me how much I owe, and it’s a bit of a shock for candy. But I hand over Connor’s credit card. I spot his location again in case she realizes I’m not Connor Quinlan. But no, she swipes it and gives it back to me while the register spits out a receipt.
She hands me all the candy wrapped up in shopping bags. “Here you go, Mrs. Quinlan.”
Mrs. Quinlan.
I go rigid. Swallowing roughly, I just nod, not wantingto draw attention to the fact that I’mnotMrs. Quinlan. Despite all of Connor’s declarations that we’re perfect for each other and only he can keep me safe, I’m not sure he means forever.
Three weeks ago, I was a DEA agent, and now I’m a mob boss’s moll. Sneaking a look at that beefy guard watching Connor on the phone, I wouldn’t mind working on the enforcer team.
I doubt Connor would let me. Or maybe he would.
Walking outside, I catch a whiff of something that is not sweet, and it stops me in my tracks. Connor turns around and puts his phone away with one hand.
In the other hand is a lit cigarette.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Connor
Before I end my call with Rhys about meeting him at Shane’s gun range for weapons testing next week, I tell him to hack Raina’s phone to see what online marketplace service she’s using to sell her books, and create a profile to pay triple whatever the last person was willing to pay.
Rhys doesn’t give me much of an argument.
I take a minute to get my head together and finish this cigarette at the curb, far away from the store and kids. The last drag always gives me a rush. But it’s nothing compared to the satisfaction I get from Raina.
Thinking she’s still in the store, stressing over what to buy for the baby, I look over my shoulder.
Raina stands a few feet from me, her arms stiff at her sides, a cold fury simmering in her eyes.
I barely get the chance to change the shape of my face before she shoves the bag of candy into my chest. “I’m going home.”
My eyebrows dip into a frown. “What?”
“I’ll take my chances that Tahiri won’t kill me,” she snaps. “I don’t need you. I don’twantyou.”
The words slice through me, sharp and unexpected. What the fuck just happened?
I grab her wrist before she can storm off. “Jesus, Raina, can you just tell me what I did?”
Her eyes flick to my hand. Not the one holding her, the one holding the lit cigarette.
I glance down at my fingers. “This?”
Her lips press into a thin line, her entire body rigid. “That disgusting habit that kills people, yeah.That.”
“I never smoke indoors,” I tell her. “Never around the kids. Never in places where it’ll bother people.”
I expect her to roll her eyes and maybe tell me off again. Instead, she swallows hard, her voice quieter now. “My mother died of lung cancer. Small cell. It killed her in nine months.”
The words hit like a gut punch.
“Oh shit, baby. Come here.” I toss the thing onto the sidewalk and grind it out under my heel. “I’m so sorry. Let me hold you.”
She keeps her distance, looking like all the blood has drained from her face.
“Raina, I don’t need to smoke.”
“You’re just saying that. So did my mother. She ended up sneaking around, and it made her bitter and angry toward me. She couldn’t stop, Connor.” Raina shakes her head like she can’t believe she’s telling me this. “Even at the end, when she could barely breathe, she still smoked.”