33. Braken

I crush the carton of orange juice between my fist as I read the text message from Nexxor.

It's a burner phone. Not much to go on. I've kept an eye on it but it hasn't pinged any towers, maybe he's kept it switched off.

I read it four times before I throw the phone onto Fiora's dining room table. This morning has already been full of shitty news. A search of James's house proved useless. The only things in his apartment were remnants of an absolutely paranoid man. It's like he was preparing for doomsday. Newspapers on the windows, a collection of firearms with the serial numbers filed off, knives taped to the backs of cabinet doors and the undersides of sinks. And in his messy bedroom closet, a duffle bag full of cash without a note.

James's phone is as helpful as his house. After Merrick and Soren left last night, Soren spent the night going through it. James had a major problem with drugs, hookers, and debts. It's no wonder he was on his last saving grace before being in jail for life. But other than a few disgusting videos and pictures Soren said he never wanted to see again, his phone was clean.

I must admit Mr. Silk has the upper hand right now. Between Mr. Silk's burner phone, empty house, and useless phone, we don't have much to go on.

I run my hands through my unkempt morning hair and lean back in the chair. Think, Braken. Since they haven't come after anyone else, not even a threat to the other Godwins, this can only be someone close to Mason. If this was a power move for the Godwin business, there would have been a hit on Hector or Fiora would have already been taken out.

Fiora. When I close my eyes, I can still see her spread for me on the table, her taste fresh on my lips. My cock throbs when I remember how she moaned my name.

Her bedroom door clicks open. Speak of the devil. I like seeing she's a morning person like me. As I pour her a cup of coffee from the pot I just brewed, I pick up my coffee from the table as she enters the room.

"I was hoping you liked your beauty rest," I joke, running a hand along my scraggly facial hair. "Give me time to clean up before you wake."

"Your face isn't the only thing that needs cleaning up."

Fiora points to the living room. Clothing is strung about, a few picture frames have fallen over, and someone's belt is still on the ground. I never even noticed.

"We had a good time last night." I shrug and take a sip of my coffee while Fiora reaches for hers.

Fiora stands up and casually asks, "So what's on the agenda today?"

I'm taken aback by her question. We've never discussed what either of us has planned for the day.

"Is there something you have in mind?" I counter, liking the idea of not rushing out the door and being away from her.

"Take me out."

"Take you out?" I tilt my head at her curiously, which only makes her sigh.

"The only time we have been together, we… well... We haven't done anything normal. Things a couple should be doing. I want to go out. The two of us."

Realization sinks in faster than the coffee. She's ready to announce our engagement. Being seen together in public will get the tabloids buzzing. Being seen with that diamond on her finger will send them into a frenzy. Has Hector called her and given her the same pressure my father gave me?

If she wants to make a show, I know just the place to do it. I reach for my phone, do a bit of research on an idea I have, and then look up with a smile and a plan.

"The Mariners have a game at 4:15. I think it's one of the last of the season."

Her eyes widen and light up, and I know my idea is a good one. "Baseball?"

"Normal activity for a normal couple."

Fiora hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. How she doesn't smudge her red lipstick, I don't know, but she still looks perfectly put together when she lets go, a fine contrast to my mess.

"I don't know… the last time I was supposed to go, Mason died."

"Then think of it as a makeup game," I offer. "A way to pay respects at a game you never got to share."

Her face softens at my suggestion, her brown eyes twinkling with something I can't pinpoint. Then she blinks and it's gone, replaced with a tight mask I've come to realize is her way of hiding her pain. As boring as I find baseball, I think this will be good for the both of us. She'll get closure, and I'll get our parents off my back.

"Fine," she agrees, then holds up a finger, "but we're both wearing jerseys and yelling at the umpires over beer and hot dogs."

That sounds like a terrible time, but I can't exactly say no. Too much rides on this public display.

But I guess it's not all bad, because Fiora's smile when I nod lights up the room.

Fiora starts yelling halfwaythrough the second inning, not even one beer in.

We sit in the Diamond Level behind home plate, giving her a perfect outlet to rail against the umpire with "eyes so bad he couldn't see the sun."

I know enough about baseball, but I stay quiet as Fiora tells me all about the game anyway. She hasn't been this happy since I've met her. Ever since our engagement dinner, she's been in a shitty mood. I can't blame her. Losing a brother then gaining a stranger as a fiancé would drive any woman mad. But Fiora Godwin isn't a normal woman. She's strong, fierce, and independent, which is why I have no problem calling her my girl.

And when my girl wants another hot dog, she gets another damn hot dog.

When the game moves into the top of the 7th, Fiora stretches her arms above her head and turns her head toward me. "Having fun?"

"You're more fun than the game," I answer. "I'm surprised the umpire hasn't kicked you out yet."

"It's not my problem he doesn't know where the strike zone is," Fiora argues, flicking the end of her ponytail over her shoulder. She changed into a more casual look before the game, and yet still somehow looks dressed to the nines in some Chucks and a new baseball jersey. "He called a strike at the batter's pecs, for God's sake."

"He swung at it."

"And that was stupid, too." She laughs. "He's lucky we're winning, or he'd be next on the list."

I shake my head and set my beer back into the holder. I always figured Fiora would be the type of girl who let off steam with Daddy's credit card. Instead, she screams at overpaid athletes for fun. What else will she surprise me with?

"Do you go to games often?"

Fiora pats Mason's jersey affectionately. "He's the one who got me into baseball. Took me to my first game. We lost in the bottom of the 10th, and I've never gotten over it."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

"That's a lot for a seven-year-old to deal with, you know." Fiora smiles at her own argument, popping a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth. "The first taste of real rejection." Then she turns to me curiously. "Your turn. When's the first time you ever had your heart broken?"

"When Nonna died," I answer immediately. "I used to spend a month during summer at her house. Her cannoli was to die for. I miss her cooking."

"I miss my mother's food, too," Fiora says with a sigh. "She died when I was fifteen. Car accident. An actual car accident, if that's your next question."

"It's a valid question."

You never know with the Godwins.

Fiora is about to speak when her words are drowned out by a cheesy love song blaring from the speakers on the jumbotron. "Kiss Cam" lights up the screen, and the camera pans to different couples all around the stadium. They give each other little pecks before the camera moves on.

And eventually settles on me and Fiora.

Fiora doesn't even look shocked. She turns to me with a coy smile and puckers her lips. "Come here, big boy."

The fuck did she call me? I turn my cheek in response, and her lips land on my cheek, just above the stubble of my facial hair I never took care of today. It's one thing to be called a lame nickname, even in jest. It's another thing when the crowd boos. The old assholes around us jokingly sneer, with one woman two rows up yelling, "Kiss your wife!" The camera is still on us, so Fiora's sneaky grin against my cheek is blown up for everyone to see.

"Yeah, is that how you're going to treat your wife?" she murmurs, only pulling away enough so I can turn my head to face her. "You're gonna let people think you don't treat me right?"

"You know I do," I respond lowly, "and I'm pretty sure I proved it last night."

A hint of color dusts Fiora's cheeks, but she doesn't back down. "For all your talk, you sure aren't acting like it now. Prove it."

Even for some stupid baseball interlude game, I'm not one to back down.

I grab the back of Fiora's head and mash our lips together, the crowd around us hollering with the real kiss. I don't give a fuck about them. Fiora's more than eager to respond to my messy kiss, opening her mouth so easily for me. Our tongues push against each other until she moans into my mouth, her fingers clinging to my T-shirt. Fuck, I wish there wasn't an armrest between us. I'd drag her into my lap and make her forget all about the baseball game, audience be damned.

I squeeze her thigh, my teeth tugging at her lower lip to make her moan again. I push it higher and higher, thumb running over the crotch of her jeans. Just as I pull back to catch my breath and dive in again, her phone pings. Then pings again. And again and again.

Fiora groans and asks for a second, fishing it out of the back pocket of her jeans.

"Oh shit."

I glance over her shoulder to see her phone screen.

FIORA GODWIN AND brAKEN FROST CAUGHT KISSING—NEW COUPLE ALERT?

"That was fast," I muse. "It hasn't even been five minutes."

"News travels fast these days," Fiora murmurs. Her phone continues to blow up until she sets it on silent and pockets it again. "Guess our secret's out."

"Guess so." I grab her chin and force her to look at me again, a smirk rising to my face when I see how flushed she is from that one kiss. "I hope you're ready."