Chapter Text
I’d always known there were two versions of the man I loved.
The one the world saw: slow-talking, smooth-smiling, dangerous enough to make grown men think twice before crossing him, and the one I had all to myself when the door was locked and the curtains drawn.
I loved both. I trusted both.
But they didn’t always exist at the same time.
Tonight, it was the first version pacing my kitchen.
The sound of his phone buzzing again made my stomach tighten. Not in the same way it had been lately: not the morning sickness, not the fluttery awareness of the secret we’d been holding close for the past twelve weeks but in the way that told me whatever was pulling him tonight wasn’t small.
I was stretched out on the couch, hoodie zipped halfway, legs tucked under me. The TV was on, some mindless sitcom rerun, but I wasn’t watching. My hand rested low against my stomach, like it had developed a mind of its own, protective without me thinking about it.
“Ma,” his voice came from the kitchen, deep and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.
“Yeah?” I called back.
“You eat somethin’ yet?”
I smirked. “Had toast.”
A pause. “That ain’t food.”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “You gonna make me something?”
He appeared in the doorway, leaning his shoulder into the frame. Arms crossed. Tattoos shifting under the light. That half-smile was there, but his eyes…his eyes were scanning me like a checklist. He always did that when he was thinking too much.
“Nah,” he said finally. “Gonna have Mick do it. He owes me anyway.”
“Does he owe me, or just you?” I asked, raising a brow.
He just smiled slow and that was my answer.
____
Right on cue, Mick’s boots sounded in the hall. He stepped in, dropped a brown paper bag onto the coffee table, and gave me a nod. “Rosa’s been callin’. Wants to know when you’re stoppin’ by.”
“Tomorrow,” I said without hesitation. “She promised me those empanadas.”
That got the faintest smirk out of Mick. “Yeah. She did.” Then he shot Rio a look I didn’t miss this time. It was quick, but it said something. Something I wasn’t supposed to ask about.
Rio pushed off the doorway. “We’re headin’ out in a few. Gotta talk to some people.”
I tilted my head. “Some people?”
“Yeah.”
“The ones with the grocery store?”
His eyes met mine, dark, unreadable, and I knew the answer before he said it.
“Don’t worry ‘bout that, Ma.”
That made me laugh under my breath. Don’t worry. Sure. I’d been with him long enough to know that ‘don’t worry’ was code for ‘this is none of your business but I’ve got it handled’. And the truth was, I trusted him more than I trusted anyone.
Still, I stood and grabbed my jacket. “If you’re stopping by your grandma’s without me, you’re dead.”
⸻
We took Rio’s black SUV. He was driving, I was in the passenger seat, and Mick was in the back, silent as usual.
The night air coming through the cracked window was cold enough to make my fingers stiff, but Rio’s hand on my thigh was warm, grounding. His thumb traced lazy absentminded circles against my jeans but it told me I was still right here in his head no matter what was pulling him elsewhere.
The streets were quiet, but his phone kept lighting up on the console. He ignored every call.
When we pulled up outside Rosa’s house, the porch light was already on. She was waiting in the doorway, cardigan pulled tight, silver hair pinned neatly.
“Mi nieto,” she said, smiling as she reached for Rio’s face with both hands. Then her eyes softened when she looked at me. “Mi niña. You look tired. Come inside.”
The warmth of her kitchen hit me first: cinnamon, fried dough, something simmering on the stove. She pressed a plate of fresh empanadas into my hands before I’d even sat down.
Rio leaned against the counter, scrolling his phone, while Rosa asked me about work, about how I’d been sleeping, about whether Rio had been feeding me properly which made me laugh.
Her gaze flicked to him every time the phone lit up, but she didn’t ask about the calls.
Finally, she set a mug of tea in front of me and turned to him. “Go,” she said, waving him toward the door. “Do what you need to do. I’ll feed her.”
He stepped over, kissed the side of my head, and murmured low enough for only me to hear, “Back soon, Ma.”
And then he was gone, the door shutting softly behind him.
⸻
Rio
The job had gone sideways.
Not mine; some amateurs who thought they could move in my city without paying for the privilege. Grocery store job. Sloppy. Messy. And now my money was in someone else’s hands.
Mick was waiting by the SUV, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers.
“Beth Boland,” Mick said simply, like the name was all the introduction I needed.
“Mm,” I said, slipping into the driver’s seat. “Guess I’ll be meetin’ her soon.”
____
Jess
I stayed at Rosa’s kitchen table, sipping tea that was just the right side of too sweet, listening to her talk about neighborhood gossip. But in the back of my mind, I was replaying Rio’s look before he left.
It wasn’t the ‘I’ll be back in an hour’ look.
It was the ‘This might get messy’ look.
The kind that used to make me nervous, before I understood that messy didn’t mean reckless. Not for him.
I set my tea down. “He’s going after the grocery store job, isn’t he?”
Rosa didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The soft click of her knitting needles was the only sound.
⸻
Rio
The diner smelled like burnt coffee and fried grease.
I slid into the booth across from them without asking.
Three women. Suburban, clean-cut. Well, clean-cut on the surface. You didn’t pull a job like that if you were all PTA meetings and bake sales.
The blonde one - Beth - sat straighter than the rest. Nerves disguised as politeness. She looked me dead in the eye like she thought she could bluff her way through.
I smiled slow.
“Ladies.”
The smallest one - Annie - shifted like she might bolt. The other, Ruby, kept her gaze low, smart enough not to give too much away.
“Y’all got somethin’ that belongs to me,” I said, keeping my voice soft, almost lazy. That always made people lean in closer, always made them wonder if they were in danger or if they just couldn’t read me.
Beth’s fingers tightened on the edge of the table. “I think you’re mistaken.”
I leaned back.
“Nah…I ain’t mistaken.”
The silence stretched until I could feel their breathing change.
“You got twenty-four hours to make it right,” I said finally, sliding out of the booth. “Or we’re gonna have a different conversation.”
⸻
Jess
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
A short text from Rio:
Handled.
I smiled faintly, pushing the phone back into my hoodie. He always said that when something was only partly handled. Which meant there was still a chance this grocery store mess would blow back around.
Rosa slid another empanada onto my plate. “Eat,” she said. “He’ll be back soon.”
And I believed her. But I also knew that when he came back, there’d be more to talk about.