Page 56 of Forgotten Deeds

“No problem. Mrs. Angelo, just let us know if you need help moving anything else.”

“Thank you so much,” I say.

They leave, and Darius turns to me. “My naughty angel is wearing those shoes for me later tonight,” he says in a low timbre that causes my nipples to pebble.

Before I can answer, his phone vibrates, and he fishes it out of his pocket. I take it back—not a phone, but a pager. “I’ve never seen a pager in real life. I thought those were extinct,” I marvel. “Why do you need that?”

“Work,” he responds.

“Oh,” I say nervously. He may have covered up his tattoo, but he’s still Diávolos.

“Nothing for you to worry about, aggeloudhi mou,” he assures me.

“How can I not worry after what I’ve s—” I stop mid-sentence, catching myself. “I didn’t see anything,” I whisper.

“There’s my good girl.” Darius hums. Wrapping his big arms around me, he tells me, “Finish packing, and I’ll be back later to pick you and Iris up.” Lifting my chin, he looks into my eyes. “Alright?” He places his lips gently to mine, and I melt into his arms.

“Alright,” I say on a sigh when he pulls back.

“Don’t forget to pack the heels for tonight. And this,” he says with a naughty smile, reaching in a box and holding by his finger a shear red thong—twirling it round and round.

“Stop it!” I snatch the thong from him.

Chuckling, he reaches in his pocket, handing me another dinosaur of a gadget—a phone that looks older than me. “Burner phone. I’ve programmed my cell and pager in there. Only use this to call or text me.” He gives me one final kiss before walking out. “I’m going to send Iris inside,” he calls.

I grab my phone—not the clandestine one I have to use to communicate with my husband—and pull up a playlist. Realizing I’ve forgotten to switch service back on, I do so now. Ping after ping after ping sounds as I’m flooded with messages.

“Mama, all my stuff is gone!” Iris shouts.

I walk to her room, stopping at the door and smiling. “Yep. The movers are taking everything to our new house with Darius. Let’s say goodbye to this house.”

“Bye, house,” Iris says, hugging the wall.

I get her set up with an educational game on her tablet before getting back to packing. Trash pile. Donate pile. Need to pack pile. There is a method to my madness, even though it looks like a disaster zone.

The doorbell rings, and I walk to the front of the house, thinking Darius must have forgot something. Glancing out the peephole, I find an older man in a suit; the vehicle parked in my driveway looks like an unmarked police car.

Taking a deep breath, I mentally go over my story. I wasn’t at the club the other night; I don’t know anything. “Hi, there. Can I help you?” I ask when I open the door.

“Ms. Grant?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Regan,” he says, flashing his badge. “I need to speak to you.”

“Sure, let me step on the porch,” I say, closing the door. I wasn’t at the club; I don’t know anything. “My daughter’s inside, so I can only chat for a minute.”

“Iris, right? Officer Harrison’s kid,” he says.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“When’s the last time you spoke to him?” Detective Regan asks.

“We don’t really speak,” I correct him. “Just exchange texts about Iris now and then.”

“So it’s a contentious relationship,” he challenges.

“No, I didn’t say that. I’m sorry, but what is that about?” I ask, confused.

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