“That doesn’t tell me shit, and you know it. This car may be gangster as fuck, but you sure couldn’t buy it with money from running a crew of thugs like you did in Biloxi.” Back in the day, he said he drove an old blue Cutlass Supreme SS. I thought he’d look fine as hell in that too, not that I got to ever see it in person.
“No. You’re right about that,” Moses replies, leaning back against the plush leather seat. “I haven’t been a gangster in a long time. Kingpin was my goal, if you remember.”
How could I forget it was more important to him than I was?Right now, that’s neither here nor there.
For shits and grins, I ask, “Then what the hell are you now?”
That damn smile is back. “Remember when I told you that the guy who came at you was a ghost?”
“Yeah,” I bite out.
“That’s my business. Except ... I’m the one who turns them into ghosts.”
Twenty-Four
Moses
“What does that mean?” Magnolia’s long, dark lashes flutter as she blinks in confusion.
I didn’t expect her to understand. Most people wouldn’t, not that I’ve had many occasions to explain what I do before. People come to me through discreetly placed referrals, and they already understand the big picture.
“If someone wants a new life or needs to disappear so well that no one ever looks for them, if they know the right people, they get connected to me. My team and I make it happen ... or at leastlooklike it happened.”
Her eyes are as wide and round as I’ve ever seen them. It’s good to see something can still shock her.
“What in the hell? And it pays this well?”
That I answer with a shrug. “I’m good at what I do. Call it a niche market. And I know how to turn money into even more money. To answer your other question, I’m rich as fuck, Mags.” I give her a wink before I correct myself. “No. Actually, I’m richer than fuck now.”
She blinks a few more times before facing forward silently, her head barely shaking back and forth. “Jesus Christ. You were going back to Biloxi when you left me ... but you didn’t. You justdisappeared.” Her head whips back in my direction. “Youbecame a goddamned ghost.”
I had no idea she’d looked for me. But the new, unexpected knowledge unleashes a surge of something deep within me. Hope, mixed with triumph.Fuck yes.
“You’re right. I didn’t go back to Biloxi. I got caught up in some shit leaving town. Turned into an opportunity I didn’t expect.”
Instead of prodding me more about that, she snaps out her next question. “What did you talk to Mount about?”
I know it’s my chance to let everything out, put all my cards on the table, but it’s the first time in so long that we’retalkingagain, and I don’t want to spoil it. So instead, I’m vague. “To settle a matter and declare my intentions.”
“What intentions?” she asks, a guarded look crossing her face.
I lean back against the seat and stretch one arm across the back. “My intentions with regard to one Ms. Magnolia Marie Maison.”
Her jaw slackens, letting her lower lip drop again before she catches herself. “What the fuck does that mean? And explain it to me like I’m a toddler. No more riddles.”
I move toward her and give her the truth. “I’m forty fucking years old, mama. I haven’t had a home in fifteen years—hell, even before that, I didn’t have one I’d want to go back to—and I want one something powerful now. I want to settle down. Put down some roots. I want a wife, and I want her to give me a houseful of babies who’ll have me wrapped around their fingers just like their mother.”
Magnolia can’t school her reactions quick enough. She’s floored. Emotions dash across her face like shooting stars, one after another. Hope. Denial. Curiosity. Doubt.
“Wh-what does that have to do with me?” she sputters.
“You’ve always been the one, Mags. I haven’t gone an hour without thinking about you since the night I left.”
The soft glow of the streetlights glints off the sheen of tears gathering in her eyes. Tears I’m sure she’d rather kill me for than admit to. She blinks them back.
“It’s too late, Moses. Too fucking late.”
I shake my head. “No. I refuse to believe that. And Mount clearly doesn’t believe it either.”