Free Dead Wrong by J. M. Griffin Page B

parents’ house, and an occasional snack at the deli, or Chinese food after work. On the other hand, I’d dated Aaron during the summer when I’d first met Marcus. Aaron took me to the beach, dinner, and to an outdoor opera on Federal Hill, the Italian section of Providence that had the best trattorias anywhere in the state.
    â€œYep. About time, ain’t it?” He chuckled.
    â€œWe have been out to eat before. But that doesn’t count as a real date, I guess.”
    â€œNo, Chinese food after work doesn’t count as a date. So answer the question.”
    â€œWhat time are you picking me up?” I laughed.
    â€œAround six. Be ready. None of that making-me-wait-around crap that women do, all right?”
    â€œSure thing, El Commandante.” I saluted and he rose to kiss me before he left.
    At the doorway he turned. “I think Romeo cares deeply for you, Vin. What do you think?”
    â€œDo you think so?” I asked. My throat closed and breathing became difficult. I didn’t know what to say.
    â€œYeah, I do.” He smirked a bit, but there was a question in his eyes.
    â€œI hadn’t really noticed, Marcus.” I lied and it took all my strength not to squirm in my seat, but I held fast.
    â€œRight…. Well, good night then Vinnie,” he said, and walked away. The door closed and I heard his truck start.
    He’d no sooner driven away when the door upstairs closed. Within seconds, I heard a rap on my door. I sighed and figured I’d never have a moment to myself tonight.
    â€œCome in,” I yelled.
    Soft footsteps treaded through the apartment, and Aaron sauntered into the living room. His huge frame filled the chair Marcus had just vacated. The seat was probably still warm from his hot butt, I thought.
    â€œHave you come up with any details for me yet, beautiful?” he asked with dark eyebrows arched.
    â€œUh, no. You guys haven’t given me a minute to consider what happened today. I will put my thinking cap on though, don’t worry.” I smiled and stared at the handsome brute.
    â€œWhat’s going on with your brother – have you found out?” he asked.
    â€œNot yet. Why do you ask?” Wondering if this was a prelude to an interrogation about my family, I snapped to attention, exhaustion pushed aside.
    â€œJust curious.” He smiled. “At the funeral home, there were several members of a certain group in attendance. They wore expensive suits and lots of gold. Were they friends of your family?” He leaned back, relaxed, one long leg casually draped over the other at the knee. His hands lay still and idle on the arms of the chair until he noticed the sketch pad.
    Leaning forward, he drew the spiral bound pages onto his lap. Idly he flipped the cover over and gazed at the first illustration. His glance flicked to me and then he smiled.
    â€œThis is a good likeness of Evergreen. Has he been around?”
    â€œNo, to the question over the wise guys at the funeral home. And no, to Evergreen.”
    â€œHmm, I’ve heard about your uncle. He was involved in art theft. Were you aware of his particular gift for breaking and entering?” He flipped another page and saw his portrait. Chocolate brown eyes stared at me for a second before he flipped to the next drawing and Marcus’s face.
    Good interrogation technique, I thought as I nodded my head. “My great uncle was the bad boy of the family. But then, you already knew that. Can you get to the point and stop skirting the real issue?”
    â€œFine, I will.” He smiled to soften the oncoming question. “There is a rumor your uncle, the cat burglar, used your brother as a fence for stolen goods.”
    I leaned forward, my mouth agape, but his hand came up in a stop motion and I settled back. The fingers of my right hand drummed on the chair arm. I realized the sign of agitation was not good. I folded my hands lightly in my lap and