Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,75
to do. Every man had to take care of his family in his own way.
He met Thomas’s eyes and nodded. “Yup. It will all be fine.”
* * *
“How was your day, Mr. Paige?” Annalise asked, as she slid into the front seat next to him an hour later.
“Not too bad. You?” He turned on the engine. She was such a sweet girl, and he was so damn happy that Michael had found her.
“It was good. I’m good to go for the history test,” she said with a wide smile, using one of the more Americanized phrases she’d learned during her stay. “And did you have a good morning at work? You work hard on a Saturday.”
He tapped the dash as he pulled out of the driveway and rolled down the street. “Doing my best. And yes, work was good.”
“But there is something you worry about?” she asked, tilting her head. “I was not eavesdropping, but I heard some of your conversation as I walked into the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind me asking.”
Thomas smiled and shook his head. “Nope. Don’t mind at all. I admire your curiosity. You’d make a good journalist someday.”
She smiled widely. “Thank you. That’s what I hope to do. With my photos.”
“You’ll do great. And to answer your question,” he said as he flipped on the blinker and turned right, “there’s just something odd I noticed at work, so I mentioned it.”
He shared a few details with her, since she was such a good listener.
“Maybe there is a reason for it all? There has to be. Things don’t just disappear,” she said. “You are probably onto something. Some connection.”
He nodded. “That’s what I think, too.”
He slowed at a red light near the strip mall. He glanced over and narrowed his eyes briefly, catching the silhouette of a man walking into the nearby piano store. Holy crap. The guy looked like T.J. Big and broad, and toweringly tall. Annalise’s eyes followed his. The man turned around before heading inside. Yup, that was T.J.
“Some guy who works with me just went into the piano shop. He gave me a hard time earlier today. I’d never have pegged him as a musician.”
She flashed a smile. “People surprise you. They do things we don’t expect.”
* * *
As her husband stripped off his button-down shirt, she fiddled with a necklace on her bureau, averting her eyes. Dora could hardly look at him anymore. She didn’t want him. She’d had no interest in him since she’d fallen in love with another man.
She hadn’t planned to. But Luke had given her so much. He’d given her hope. He’d helped her find a way to make more money, to earn well beyond her meager seamstress wages and Thomas’s paychecks. The cash she’d amassed from her side business had helped her make ends meet and then some. Luke understood that. He knew she’d needed more, and he’d helped her find a way to get it. Something Thomas wouldn’t do. Ever since that night she’d met Luke at the work party—not Narcotics Anonymous like she’d told her sweet Ryan—he’d understood her deepest needs. To provide for her children. To give them the opportunities she’d never had. So what if she had to bend some rules to make it happen? Break some laws, even?
Luke was wonderful, and sweet, and paid attention to all her needs. She longed to be with him. Ached to have a life with him. She was sure he was her future, especially now. She ran a hand over her stomach, still flat, but not for long.
Could she go through with it? She’d lined up all the players. Luke had helped her find the right men, connecting her with a broker who was flawless in arranging hits.
She knew T.J., had sold to him and his cousin. She knew Stefano well, too, since he was her supplier.
Her stomach churned at the thought, but she pushed those feelings aside, denying them. She was tired, so fucking tired of scraping by for everything. Every last penny. Every goddamn dime. Besides, she wanted to raise her family with Luke. Was that so wrong? How could it be, now that God had put this baby in her belly?
Still, her chest heaved as she placed her necklace in the bottom drawer of her jewelry chest.
“Everything okay?” Thomas asked
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Just fine.”
She ran a hand over her stomach, a fresh wave of nausea kicking in. She gritted her teeth, not wanting to let on. She’d