Chapter One

Sunnyvale, Texas

Present Day

Blaze

 

“You think we should hire a housekeeper, Boss? At least someone to do the cooking during the busy season? There’s a heck of a lot of hungry ranch hands bitching about your poor attempt at edible vittles.”

Leaning back in the wooden rocker on my front porch in Sunnyvale, Texas, I took a drag off my nightly cigar, and peered at my foreman, roommate, and best friend, Rusty, out of the corner of my eye.

“C’mon now, a cook? I can’t be that bad, can I?”

“Well, most of them taken to bringing their own stale bread and cold canned beans out on the trail, rather than eating that crap you been attempting to pass off as food, so you tell me.”

The blunt reply made me wince. I could count on Rusty to be a lot of things. At the top of that list was painfully honest.

“They ask you to ask me that, Hoss?” I hated Rusty’s insistence on calling me Boss. I considered the old man to be more friend than employee. Calling him Hoss back was the only thing that lessened the sting.

Rusty grunted in response. “Lucky you pay ‘em so good, Boss, or they’d been gone long ago. Nothing gets between a cowboy and his stomach.”

“Lucky me.” I smiled and rolled my eyes.” The only lucky thing that’s ever happened to me, Hoss, is the day you turned up on my doorstep looking for work. Without you, I’d have driven this place into the ground long ago.”

Rusty smiled, chuckling as he spit a wad of chewing tobacco into a Styrofoam cup. “Ain’t that the truth, Boss, ain’t that the truth? City boy.”

I paused then, remembering the early days at the ranch fondly. I knew now how naive my dream had been, a trained hit man who had never known life outside the mafia, faking his own death and moving out west to escape the life that had been forced upon him to fulfill a lifelong pipe dream of becoming a rancher. It had seemed such a simple life until I had actually had to live it.

Rusty had come along and saved the day, never steering me in a wrong direction, and with the old cowpoke’s help, I had actually managed to turn Phoenix Acres into a robust and thriving operation.

I sighed, and stood. “All right. I guess we’re hiring a cook. And by we, I mean you.” I didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about doing that.

“Got it, Boss. I’m on it.”

*****

Lucy

“Hey Sugar, why don’t you mosey on over here and sit on daddy’s lap?” I didn’t even have to look to know that the drunkard cat-calling me had a beer gut, a gnarly beard, a wedding ring, and was probably on the wrong side of fifty. They always were. Just once I’d like the nasty sexual innuendos to come from someone I might actually consider banging.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth and eat your dinner?” I called out over my shoulder. “You know, since this is a restaurant and not a brothel.”

I smiled for the first time since my shift had started. Smiling was a rarity in this god forsaken dive. It made me laugh that there actually were brothels they could go to. This was Texas after all.

The reminder stung, as it always did. Hot tears pricked the back of my eyelids, and I had to swallow the lump in my throat. Dammit. Not this, not now.

It happened anyway, despite my best efforts to stop it.

The tear fell, unbidden. Cursing softly, I quickly ducked into the restroom at the far corner of the small dining room before anyone could see me cry.

Peering under stall doors for feet, I did a quick sweep of the room to be sure I was actually alone. As soon as I was sure the frustration left me in loud and racking sobs.

How was this my life? I had been reduced to working double shifts at a greasy dive-bomb diner, where the highlight of my day was if the slimy, oversized dickhead with beer breath and commitment issues harassing me was not completely butt ugly? I was stuck in a godforsaken, two horse town in rural Texas of all places. Two years ago, I had it all. Great friends, a loving family, a shiny new college degree, a great car that was a graduation gift from my father, and a host of amazing job offers to choose from. The world had been my oyster. After all, I was Rosalita Sofia D’Angelo, Dammit.

Except I wasn’t. Not anymore. They had stripped my identity, along with everything else. Now I was plain old Lucy Grace Rubio from the sticks. Orphaned in high school, an only child with a community college education, born and bred two cities over. That was the backstory they had invented. I hated it, and them. From the stupid but well-meaning agents that harassed me day in and day out, to the stupid asshole mobster who had put me here, and even my beloved older brother for pissing off the mob and getting killed in front of me.

“Fuck you Luca. Stupid drugs. Do you see what you did? You not only ruined your life, but mine as well.” Glaring at my now dishwater blonde reflection in the mirror, I repeated the familiar rant that for some reason always calmed me.

When my Italian came out, I could hear Luca’s voice in my mind, and it filled me with peace. In life, he had been a voice of reason, and his memory still acted as the same. The words I knew he would speak washed over me, and I began to breathe evenly as the racking sobs subsided.

This was my life now. It wasn’t one I could have chosen, but at least I still had one. It was time to accept it and make the most of it.

When the feds had landed me this shit gig, I had stubbornly kept it, even though they had told me I didn’t have to. A stubborn and unhealthy sense of self-righteous anger had kept me here for far too long. It was time to move on.

“You may just be Lucy now, but at heart, you’re still Rosalita Sofia D’Angelo.”

Pausing, I pulled my lucky lip gloss from the pocket of my apron, puckered up, and liberally applied a fresh coat. A true Italian diva could not kick ass without a fresh coat of lipstick. When finished, I nestled the tube in my cleavage for safe keeping. The only pockets I had were on my apron, and I wouldn’t be taking that with me.

Tears glistened, but in my head I was kicking ass and taking names like a true Italian diva.

Swinging the bathroom door wide, I held my head high and marched up to Jerry, the owner, who was standing at the cash register making lewd comments at one of the other waitresses. Without a word, I thrust the apron in front of him. “I quit.”

I ignored the lurid last digs from customers and Jerry’s angry yells. My life was still a mess. I was still in Texas, still alone, and still Lucy. But for the first time in two years, I had hope. It was liberating

It was a short five blocks to the small duplex on the corner of town. I reached it quickly, and entered, locking the door, and falling breathless against it. My hands shook a little as I reached into my purse, pulled out the tracphone, and pressed the first contact on a short list, smiling weakly when it was answered on the first ring.

“You’re off grid, Luce. You’re supposed to be working a double, but GPS says you’re at your apartment.  This had better be good.” The gruffly jovial voice of my favorite agent, Mike, sounded slightly worried.

“I quit my job, Mike. I couldn’t take it anymore and I just walked out.”

I could hear Mike grinning through the phone. He and his wife Betty were the only part of this whole fucked up mess I was thankful for. The kindly older agent had taken my shell-shocked self under his wing, and instantly created a connection, quickly becoming a sort of grandfather figure.

“Good for you, Lucy. It’s about damn time. Don’t know why you insisted on staying there so damn long anyway. It was supposed to be a starting place, a paycheck, not a way of life.”

Sinking to the floor, I folded my legs in front of me, and sighed deeply. “It’s not like I landed somewhere with a shit-ton of options, thank you very much.”

“Yeah true, but you got me out of the deal, so it can’t be all that bad. You could have ended up in some big glamourous city but gotten stuck with some by the book agent with a stick up his ass, or worse still, a rookie.”

The stress of the past hour left and I laughed at the predictable retort. Mike managed to work his disdain for rookies into every conversation. It was part of his charm.

“You’re the one positive in this entire mess, Mike,” I said, laughing through my tears.

 “Awww, Luce.”

“That’s not even my name!”

Mike’s growl was low but unmistakable. I was damn lucky they hadn’t pinned me with a rookie agent, and we both knew it. Newbies weren’t as accustomed to the mood swings and emotions that ran rampant among people in the program. Mike was always patient. He was damn good at his job, and having raised three daughters, he knew when to let me cry it out, and when to shut it down. He often compromised and did both.

I always knew the exact moment when his patience ran out.

“Luce,” he admonished sharply. “You can’t say things like that. We’ve been over this too many times. This is your life, and you need to stop mourning the past and make a new way for yourself. Every time you say something like that, you potentially put yourself in danger. You have exactly two minutes left to feel sorry for yourself, and then you are going to suck it up, wash your face, change out of your work clothes and get ready to have dinner with Betty and me. I’ll be there to pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“Oh, Mike, that’s very kind, but I don’t think so.  I’m not going to be very good company today. Maybe a raincheck?”

“We’re having a few people over for a barbeque. Betty has her heart set on you coming, and I was supposed to invite you days ago. If you don’t show up, she’s likely to cook me up and serve me as the main dish. Surely you don’t want that on your conscience?” he teased, and I knew he was only half joking. Mike’s wife, Betty could be as soft and sweet as he was, but if you crossed her, she could be ten times as formidable.

“Oh fine. I’ll come. Only to save your butt from the fire. After all you do for me, I suppose it’s the least I could do.” I managed a short giggle. Only Mike could invite someone to dinner, and make it seem like they were the one doing him a favor instead of the other way around.

“Thank you kindly, my dear. See you soon.”  He disconnected, and I pulled myself up from the floor with a ragged sigh. Mike was endlessly patient. Mine was considered a special case, and the retired agent had been pulled into special duty to act as a pseudo grandfather type. As thankful as I was for his patience, I knew he was right. It was time to move on and leave Rosalita in the past.

The trial for the mobster that killed Lucca was fast approaching. But that was only the beginning. There were many more in the family, and until every single one was either locked up or dead, I knew I would never be fully safe. And never again be free to be Rosalita.