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“She’s only been a manager there for a couple days,” I correct. “She was learning beforehand. Your child is an adult, Wayne. Treat her like one. Vienna is going to rebel if you keep giving her examples of what her future holds by continuing to control your eldest daughter. Do you really think your children want to live in a constant state of parental control?”
He growls, and I remember why I never got along with mom’s brother the few times we spoke. As thankful as I am for the surgeon he sent, his response to my trauma was clinical and cold, not the warming comfort my heart needed from family. “You don’t speak for my children!”
“Neither do you,” I reply smoothly. “If you just called to complain, I have nothing to say. We have no timeline on our return and I will continue to relay everything to Serenity since she’s the one who needs to know these things. Now did you call for an actual reason, or just to bitch at me?”
There we go. Sleepiness is abandoning me, and I’m quicker to snap back at him when I’m not warring with exhaustion. For once the sleep meds are working against me.
My eyes drift to the stairs again. Vinny would never stop me from talking to my uncle, even if Wayne’s a raging asshole half the time, but my husband will tell him off if he tries to be a dick again. One moment of kindness ensuring I didn’t suffer after getting cut apart like an animal doesn’t make Wayne a saint, it just reminds me he’s human.
“My daughter has real work to be doing,” Wayne says, and it’s almost like I didn’t snap at him at all. My tone did nothing to cut through the grump in his voice, or that holier-than-thou attitude.
“Recording procedures?” I ask dryly.
“And bettering herself!” he hisses. “She doesn’t need your slut club-”
“Don’tspeak about my club that way,” I tell him, straightening. “That club offers protection and care to people so they can enjoy their kinks in a safe environment. If that makes you uncomfortable, Uncle, it’s because you’ve never tried to enjoy anything new in your life.”
“That’s exactly why Serenity doesn’t belong there!”
“Because of enjoyment?” I roll my eyes and don’t wait for him to clarify. “I have things to do, Uncle. If you prefer I get back to Colorado ASAP, I recommend you don’t call me. I have plenty of other things to do.”
“Yes,” he replies, his voice turning eerie. “Wouldn’t want you ending up as one of the dead girls again.”
A chill races down my spine as he hangs up. I’m left staring at the wall, his words replaying in my head.
Dead girl, dead girl, dead girl…
It’s familiar, like calling on a memory of some sort. I’ve heard it before from others, not quite so frankly, but I’ve still heard it. I don’t remember my uncle ever addressing me that way over the phone, but the days after the fire are blurry. It could be something that I thought was a dream but really happened.
Vinny appears at the top of the steps. His eyes zero in on the phone by my ear, and I drop it on the bed.
“Who was that?”
We both ask the question at the same time, holding each other’s gazes. There’s a dark glint in his eyes, and after uncle’s eerie words it sets me a little on edge. I clear my throat and try again. “Who called?”
“My mother,” he says simply, and I resist the urge to groan. Gloria Ajello never did like me. “She wants to know why we haven’t stopped by The Grove.”
By The Grove, she means the family orange fields. It’s run by the Ajellos themselves plus extended family. Nowadays I’m pretty sure most of the oranges are machine-picked and it’s mainly drivers moving the produce back and forth. It’s an excellent front for the illegal actions of the Ajellos.
“I told her we’ve only been in town a few days,” he goes on, rubbing the back of his head. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I appreciate the way his tattoos glint in the afternoon light across bronzed skin. “But she saw the new murder, and she was worried about… me.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s predictable. She does remember my name, doesn’t she?”
He sighs. “Yes. She knows you weren’t killed. She’s concerned that I might not want to cope with the possibility and should come see the family.”
Shaking my head, I sit back on the bed again. “You know, if I were anyone else, she might be concerned about me.”
“I know.” Vinny comes to sit on the bed with me, his hand closing over mine. The rose tattooed on the back of his hand catches my attention, and I can instantly pick out the words hidden in the design. “I won’t make you go see her.”
“Oh,” I reply sarcastically, arching a brow, “So I get to sit in boredom here instead? What am I supposed to do out here by myself?”
He lifts one shoulder. “You could try pole dancing with the setup Emeric has in his dining room.”
We’re quiet for a moment, watching each other, and then we both burst out laughing. His living room is normal enough, but the pole dance setup where his dining room table could be definitely drew our attention the first night. I’ve tried it before at home and pole dance just isn’t my area of expertise. I have better ways to get my husband’s blood pumping.
I lean into his shoulder, wrapping my other hand around his arm. He speaks before I manage to. “Sterling called. They looked into the new victim.”
“And how does that apply to us?” I ask without lifting my head from his shoulder.