Lady Luck: Ashby Crime Family Romance Book 4 Read online

  Sooner rather than later.

  That started with finding a way to keep myself busy. Between Lance’s military pension, life insurance, and the fact the Ashbys paid off this enormous house, there was no practical reason for me to work. But I wanted to work. No, it was more than that, I needed to. For now, I contented myself with playing nursemaid to Kat Ashby. She seemed to want that from, even though she had more than enough money to hire private help. She seemed to appreciate having me around, and for now, that was enough. I have to say, taking care of Kat after her own brush with death was a relief because I had no clue what I wanted to be when I grew up.

  During our marriage, my life had revolved around making life easier for Lance. I loved keeping up our home, whether it was a tiny studio apartment in Libertyville, a slightly larger studio in San Diego, or a nicer two bedroom just outside Coronado. Being a homemaker had been my full time job my whole adult life. Other than flipping burgers and waiting tables as a teenager, I hadn’t ever had a real 9 to 5 job. Ever.

  “And it’s beyond time to change that,” I said to the oversized fireplace.

  Kat wouldn’t need my help forever, and I might lose my mind trying to find things to do around the house all day.

  I needed to decide what would light a fire under me and make a plan. A plan for my own life, my own future. Even the thought of doing that brought tears to my eyes, because it was an impossible thought to entertain without Lance. How could I think of my future as a single, solitary person when I’d spent so much time as part of a twosome?

  It felt disloyal to think only of myself when I felt robbed of the future I had planned with the love of my life. A future that included kids and family vacations, a kid-friendly dog. That future was all gone, nothing more than an unrealized dream. It was really fucking hard to move on from that.

  But I had to try, I knew that. It would be even more disloyal to Lance’s memory, to our time together, if I let myself fall apart and wasted my life when he’d been robbed of so many years. I couldn’t do that and more importantly, I wouldn’t.

  “A list. I’ll make a list.” I was talking to the four walls, but so what, if it got me moving. I grabbed my tablet and started to tap out a list of things I needed to do to get my life back on track. The first item was to find a job. It didn’t matter if it was waiting tables or telemarketing, I had to find a way to fill my days. Maybe I could go back to school and get trained to do something important. Something that mattered.

  The sound of my phone ringing was so foreign to me that it wasn’t until the fifth ring that I realized what it was and answered. When I heard Maisie’s voice, I smiled.

  “Maisie? Shouldn’t you be in the middle of Sunday dinner with your family?”

  “Have you been kidnapped?” she asked with a laugh in her voice. “If so, say rottweiler, and I’ll send the guys for you right away.”

  I blinked and looked at the phone, then tapped the speaker button. “What are you talking about? Have you been kidnapped?”

  “No, but it’s after nine o’clock, and dinner’s been over for some time. I figured you must be locked up in a dark basement if you don’t know what time it is.”

  A quick glance at the oven clock showed that she was right. How could it be nearly nine-thirty? I barked out a laugh and shook my head. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought. What’s up?”

  The doorbell rang just as she spoke.

  “I guess so. I’ve been ringing the bell for almost five minutes, and I was about to bust down your door to check on you. Ding dong, Vanessa.”

  I rushed to the front door and opened it smiling for a change. I was happy to have a visitor who wasn’t trying to sell me something or convert me to their religion. “Come in. Welcome to our, my, home.”

  This was Maisie’s first visit. She stepped inside and took a look around, her mouth agape, taking in all the details I’d actually worked on in the front hall. I led her into the large living room space, and she finally said something more coherent that wow.

  “Damn, great looking home, Vanessa. Modern and homey but with an upscale rustic look. Did you do this?”

  I nodded, proud of the final product, even though I was less impressed with it as each day passed. “It was my attempt at making this our dream home, but I never realized how exhausting decorating could be.”

  A look of sadness flashed in her big blue eyes. I wanted to stop her right there. I didn’t want pity; I was really damn tired of seeing pity in everyone’s eyes, so I rushed to change the subject. “What brings you by?”

  “Oh, right! Duh.” One of her infectious laughs bubbled up that lifted my mood as she followed me into the kitchen.

  “This is where I spend so much of my time lately,” I said, gesturing to a stool at the counter. “Should I open a bottle of wine?” I asked, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard without waiting for her answer.

  “Need you ask?” she said, sliding onto a seat.

  “I wanted to pick your brain about my wedding,” she said while I opened a chilled white wine I pulled from the fridge, “but I’ll totally understand if it’s too soon to talk about it.”

  I smiled, appreciating her for caring and glad to see her happy news had erased all traces of pity. I poured two glasses of the Chablis, and we clicked for a quick toast.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Remembering isn’t the sad part. It’s the future we’ll never have that makes things difficult.”

  Realizing my comment probably put a damper on her wedding plans, I flashed a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Ask away.”

  Maisie made a frown and said, “I never even thought of it like that, Vanessa. If you ever want to talk about Lance, I’m a good listener, and I love a good romance.” She laughed and shook her head, silky black hair falling gently around her shoulders. “Basically I’m in the weeds when it comes to this wedding stuff. I know what I like, and Sadie said to choose what I wanted. But shouldn’t this be, I don’t know, elegant or sophisticated or something?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her confusion, because I’d felt it too, at least, I did right after Lance proposed. “If you aspire to be elegant or sophisticated, sure, or if that’s what’s expected. Otherwise, I think you should have the exact wedding you want.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and Maisie groaned. “I was afraid that’s what you’d say. What was your wedding like?”

  “Me?” I closed my eyes and laughed at the memory. “I thought it would be a sweet but romantic backyard wedding because Lance and are from the Midwest where we keep things simple.”

  “And it wasn’t?” Maisie’s eyes were big as she hung onto my every word.

  “Not at all. My parents never forgave us for living together before we got married, so they refused to have anything to do with it. Lance’s dad and stepmom had left to go on a cruise three days before our wedding, so there was that.”

  “Ouch. That’s shitty,” she said in solidarity, and I smiled in appreciation.

  “I was pretty bummed about it at first, but Lance only wanted to marry me. He bought me a cute little white dress at a thrift shop and sprung for a fancy rose bouquet. We got married at the courthouse, me in that dress that I loved and him in his dress uniform, and you know what? It was perfect.”

  “Really?” I understood her skepticism because I’d had it too before I set foot in the waiting area of the county clerk’s office.

  “Really. There were older couples with money who just wanted to be married without all the pomp and circumstance and at the other end of the spectrum, teenagers who were so in love and didn’t care about anything else. Some people were making the best with what they could afford, some dressed in jeans and t-shirts, and some in big old white wedding gowns. But they were all there because above all else, they wanted to be married.”

  I smiled, thinking of all the people we’d met that day, people who were happy to serve as witnesses to a sailor and his bride. “So I think you should do as Sadie said and have the wedding you want. And I’m h
appy to help you do it.”

  It would give me something else to do while I figured my shit out.

  Her eyes popped wide as saucers, and I knew I’d hit a nerve.

  “Really? Are you sure? I don’t want to make you sad, Vanessa.”

  I used to wonder how Maisie, so sweet and southern, managed to fit in with the Ashby family, but they were all just as sweet. They just did a better job of hiding it.

  I leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “Why would I be sad when you’ve been a good friend to me, and you’re marrying the big hunk of your dreams?”

  She let out a swoony sigh and smiled. “I am. I really, really am.”

  “Then that makes me happy, Maisie. You have no idea how happy.” As I said those words, I realized they were true. I missed Lance, and I always would, but I wanted everyone to experience the magical love we’d had.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I know what I want, but it’s all a hodge-podge of ideas that might not actually go well together once the planning actually starts.”

  I laughed, knowing exactly what she meant. “Like trying to make your thirteen-year-old dream wedding a reality?”

  Her blue eyes widened in recognition. “Exactly. Oh hell, I am so happy you understand.” Maisie stood and wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so grateful for your help, Nessa you have no idea. I’ll make sure we have fun too, I promise.”

  “As long as there’s alcohol and girl talk, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” I squeezed her back, a big smile enveloping me. I was enjoying the warmth of another person. I also felt a small measure of accomplishment because I’d found something else besides caretaking Kat to distract me from my lonely, aimless future.

  Chapter Three

  Emmett

  Staring at the three community cards on the table, I looked up and carefully watched each man around the poker table Jasper had set up at his place. I had the nuts and based on betting patterns; these guys had fuck all for cards. So I pushed a few more chips to the center of the table and grinned. “I call.”

  “Fucker,” Terry grumbled and folded his hand before he got up to get more drinks. This was the cardinal rule for the first person who folded.

  “What do you have, baby bro? Nothing, I bet.”

  Jasper chuckled around a big ass cigar and shook his head when I flipped Terry off, but I sensed his tension that I called his raise. “You’ve made me curious, Emmett.”

  “It’ll be satisfied soon enough,” I told him cryptically and sat back while we waited for Virgil to make up his mind. He’d bet conservatively, which meant he was hoping to make good on the turn or the river, which also told me he had nothing.

  “I’m out. Can’t lose too much money with a wedding coming up.”

  “Excuses,” Jasper and I said at the same time, and then laughed when Virgil showed off his middle finger.

  “It’s just you and me, Em. What’s it gonna be?” Jasper’s green eyes could be more intimidating than his big ass, rugby player physique, but I knew his tell. I wasn’t worried.

  Much. “That’s up to you, Jas. Fold or raise, what will you do?”

  His lips curled into a wicked grin, but his raise was cursory at best. I watched him carefully as Virgil flipped over the turn card, and his left eyelid twitched.

  “Ah, shit, Virg, thanks a lot.” Jasper tossed his cards down and blew out a frustrated breath. “Well, Em? Show the cards, man.”

  I tossed them down, one by one, to increase the effect of showing the guys they never stood a chance. Ace. King. Queen. Jack. All hearts. The turn had given me a ten of hearts, completing a perfect hand.

  “Can you see ’em, Jas?”

  He smiled and flipped me the bird once again before standing to stretch for the first time in more than an hour.

  “Good hand, Emmett. You slow bet the fuck out of that hand. I really thought I had it.”

  “You would’ve, if I didn’t know your tell,” I teased.

  His dark brows dipped low. “Fuck you, I don’t have a tell.”

  “Okay,” I shrugged because he did, and I would never tell him what it was.

  “You hear this shit, Virgil? Emmett says Jas has a tell!” Terry was the most incredulous, since Jasper was his best friend, had been since they were little kids. “Can you believe it?”

  Virgil nodded as he walked in carrying an unfamiliar bottle. “That eye thing? Yeah, he’s had it forever.”

  “You’re fucking with me.” Jasper couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t blame him, given the level of responsibility on his shoulders. The news might freak me the fuck out too.

  “Not at all,” I assured him with an innocent smile. “What’s in the bottle?”

  Virgil lifted the bottle high in the air and smiled. “Well, Emmett, I’m glad you asked. This is a brand new whiskey straight from ye olde Ireland. I had it made special for Maisie as a wedding present.”

  Jasper groaned. “Fuck, man, who’s ever gonna be able to top that shit?”

  Virgil grinned and shrugged his wide shoulders. “Not my problem. It’s not like you’re dating anyone anyway, and well, the fact that it took them twenty years to get together means we’ve got another decade before Terry and Kat tie the knot.”

  “Thanks for that man,” Terry growled.

  “Sorry, but it’s true. Now how’s about we crack this motherfucker open to test it out? It’s the first bottle of Velvet Fire, a limited edition.” Virgil tilted the sealed bottle back and forth, tempting us all.

  “I’ll get glasses,” Jasper said and disappeared into his big ass gourmet kitchen that he never used but was so protective of it made me wonder if he was a secret chef or something. “Where’d you find this?”

  “Remember that Irish dude who won half a million off that Saudi Prince at the Shootout Tournament? Tall ginger with tons of freckles?”

  Jasper nodded. “How the hell could I forget? That win almost turned into an international fucking incident.” He laughed and shook his head at the memory of one of the biggest underground card games we’d had in a long time. The buy-in was too rich for my blood, but just watching was a damn good time.

  “Well he loves to gamble and gets off on high stakes.”

  “Don’t tell me you played against him, Virg.”

  “Of course not. I don’t have a death wish. But E-o-g-h-a-n, pronounced Owen for some damn reason, needed to top up, and he didn’t have the cash. I fronted him so he wouldn’t leave the premises. He gave me the deed to the Feckin Mule Distillery in merry old Ireland as a promise to pay. Lost his ass and now I own a distillery. Well, Maisie and I own a distillery, that’s the other part of the gift.”

  Virgil flashed a proud smile. “Wait until you taste it.”

  Jasper set five glasses down and groaned. “Shit, I forgot Cal didn’t show tonight.”

  That seemed to be happening a lot lately. I was curious as hell about it because the Ashbys were the tightest group I knew. “What happened to him?”

  Terry barked out a laugh. “It’s hard to sit when your woman has your balls in her purse.” My brother laughed and laughed at his joke, so I turned to Jasper for confirmation since Terry had a warped sense of humor.

  “Pretty much,” Jasper confirmed. “Ma can deal with that shit. I want to taste this Velvet Fire,” he said in a high-pitched feminine voice.

  He poured four generous glasses and waited impatiently for each of us to taste it.

  I took a sip and the whiskey slid down my throat like silk with a hint of a burn, but in a good way. “Damn, that is smooth,” I told him honestly.

  “It’s damn good,” Jasper said admiringly. “It’s good enough that I want you to consider producing it for worldwide distribution under the Ashby name.”

  Virgil blinked in shock, and Terry held the glass frozen about five inches from his mouth. “Is this my wedding gift?”

  “You wish.” Jasper laughed and took another sip. “It’s a business opportunity. A way to make some money before you and Maisie start popping o
ut babies. On the books.”

  “If you’re serious, I’ll see what the capacity is for the distillery.”

  Jasper nodded. “Let me know and I’ll—” The phone rang on the poker table and instantly he was in business mode once again. “Yeah?”

  We all stood around, enjoying the new whiskey while Jasper, used to frequent interruptions, dealt with business. It was a minute or two before I realized he wasn’t talking, just staring at his phone. Something on the screen had his full attention. Then the color drained from his face. He knocked back his drink and began to pace.

  “No, No! Oh, fucking Christ, no.”

  It came out as a wail, a cry. A sound I’d never heard from Jasper. We gathered around to see what had him so distraught. I reached him first but I couldn’t make out what was on his phone. Someone had sent him a video, but it was dark and grainy at first. Some guys giving some poor sucker a pounding.

  “Who is it, Jas?” Terry asked from behind me. “One of our guys? Or did you send a crew to teach somebody a lesson?”

  The sound of a beating came across pretty strong as blow after blow crunch bones and mashed tissue into unrecognizable meat. The beating made my stomach turn, but I couldn’t look away. This was somebody’s apartment. Blood spurted on the walls, the couch, the pictures on the wall.

  Wait. There was too much pink in that place for those guys to be teaching some fucker a lesson. Holy shit. That was a girl’s apartment.

  “Jason! Who is that girl?” I asked. I was pretty shaken by now. “Who sent this?”

  “Fiona,” he said, the words cutting like steel. “That’s Fiona’s place.”

  “Fiona the card girl?” I said in disbelief. The pert, red-headed firecracker?

  All I could see were the backs of the motherfuckers; one guy had his fist raised high, and I reached for Jasper’s phone as if I could stop him before he smashed it into sweet Fiona’s face.