Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [127]
“No. But you don’t know—”
“Yes, actually I do.”
“You and Tony have discussed it?”
I couldn’t tell her about Tony’s son or the regret he carried about giving him up to the boy’s mother. I didn’t want to talk about my miscarriage or why it seemed every child in my life broke my heart. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning we’ve chosen this lifestyle. Neither of us wants to subject a child to it.” I softened my tone.
“Being with Martinez is more happiness than I thought I’d ever find, Kim, and that’s enough for me.”
“It should be. Okay, okay, sorry. I’ll stop trying to push my life off on you.” She drew my hand across her belly as the kicks grew more intense. “She is gonna be a great soccer player.”
“Or he’s gonna be an excellent kickboxer.”
“She for sure. We found out last week it’s a girl.”
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I grinned. “I am so happy for you.”
“That, I never doubted. So . . . come to Vegas?
Please? I want you to stand up there with me when I get hitched.”
“Just as long as you were kidding about the ugly dress.”
“Nope. It’s lilac satin with pink ruffles and bows, yellow lace, and a matching parasol. Ooh, and satin pumps with itty-bitty rose buds glued on. Dyed lilac, naturally.”
“Naturally.”
Kim sat up. “I don’t care what you wear. Just as long as it’s not black. Or white. Have Tony pick something out for you. He has good taste.”
“In all things,” he said from the doorway.
I jumped.
“Did you get Brittney home okay?” Kim asked.
“You took her home? Personally?”
He nodded.
“Call me if you need anything, Jules.” She whirled on Tony and chattered a Spanish phrase that made him grin.
After Kim left, he closed the door. “Before you chew my ass, let me say it was time I met your father.”
I didn’t ask him what he thought of Doug Collins, because I didn’t want to know. “Is he still alive?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“What did you do?”
“Honestly? Nothing. I imagined a lot of painful 453
things I could do. But unless he lays a hand on you now, I don’t give two shits about him.” Those black eyes bored into me. “I heard what Brittney said.”
“All of it?”
“Yes. I’ve seen you struggling with this relationship with her in the last few months. Obviously, any continued contact with your family is your choice, Julie, but I’m not gonna pretend I understand why you’d want it.”
“Me either.”
“So, what now?”
“Now I say thank you.”
“For?”
“Saving me.”
Martinez shook his head. “Like I told the doc. You saved yourself yesterday.”
“I’m not talking about yesterday, Tony. I’m talking about every other day since we’ve been together. Being with you has saved me.”
We stared at each other, aware another boundary between us had disappeared.
He softly said, “Same goes.” Then he locked the door and came to bed.
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Then next morning I complained, “Why don’t I get to choose?”
Martinez sighed. “Because I know who you’ll pick.”
I batted my eyelashes at him. “But, sugar-sweetiepie-honey-bun, you know I’d choose you every time.”
No-neck, Cal (God, I had to stop calling him Noneck), and Buzz grinned. Their mirth disappeared the second bossman glared at them.
“No, you’ll pick Big Mike. Since the two of you decided to handle things without my consent, or approval, you know you can get around him, and that ain’t happening again.”
Big Mike glanced at me from beneath blackened eyes. The balloonish swells on his face deflated some, although his mouth was still puffy, like a Botox 455
experiment gone awry.
I didn’t break eye contact. It was the least I could do; acknowledge his sacrifice, since he’d borne the pain of our joint decision to circumvent Tony. When Martinez discovered Big Mike’s idea to smoke out Jackal, my solo excursion with Nyla, and the fact we’d kept our nefarious plans a secret from the allpowerful El Presidente . . . well, El Presidente blustered into El Niño and showed his wrath big time. With his fists. The other Hombres security goons did nothing to stop it; Big Mike did nothing to defend himself. I hadn’t known about the disciplinary act until