Page 165 of Always: A Legacy Novel

He kept heading for the bar’s front entrance. “Places to be, Rick.”

“You’ve got a mess here to clean up.”

Cross passed the body a look, unaffected. His first kill had been Derik in the winter, and this was his second. He had seen people get shot, once when he was just a kid, and a couple of times in his teens when bad shit went down while he was with Wolf. That was just the nature of this business.

Sure, the sight of the corpse with the side of his head blown apart was grisly, but it didn’t bother Cross all that much. He was still going to go on with his day, eat dinner, and sleep just fine when night came.

That was life.

Their life.

“I’m not cleaning that up,” Cross said as he reached the door. “Like I said, places to be.”

“Like where?”

“Got a girl to take to prom.”

And he was already running late as hell.

Cross shrugged on his tux jacket, and kicked the driver door of the Range Rover closed at the same time. He bit the plastic container with Catherine’s corsage safely inside to keep hold of it as he did up the button on his jacket, and jogged around the front of the vehicle.

Catherine came out of the front door of her family home like a bat out of hell, making his smile grow. He grabbed the corsage container out of his mouth, and opened his arms wide to catch flying chiffon and silk in his embrace.

The silver, flowy gown Catherine wore was cut low in the front and back, the color matching his tie and vest, and the flower pinned on his jacket. Sleeveless, sweetheart cut, and showing off all kinds of skin, with her hair free and loose, she looked perfect. The extra-large crystals and beads covering the top half of the dress sparkled under the sunlight, sending reflective spots scattering over him, her, and the driveway. Her lips pressed to his quickly, and her laughter echoed over the yard.

“You’re late,” she said as he set her down.

“Yeah, work,” he offered, saying nothing else.

Catherine raised her brow, but didn’t ask him anything more. Cross appreciated it.

“You know I’m supposed to put the boutonniere on you, right? It’s already on.”

“I just fixed it on at the house. We’re already late.”

He snagged her wrist to slide the matching corsage bracelet down her hand.

“Turn around and smile, please,” called Catherine’s mother.

Cross slid his arm around Catherine’s waist, and they turned for the click of a camera. And then another, and another. Catherine’s father came to stand behind his wife, with crossed arms and a blank expression.

The man still didn’t like him.

For Cross, it was mutual.

“So, we’ll be here for breakfast tomorrow,” Catherine said, already heading for the passenger side of the Rover.

“Make sure of it,” Dante said, passing Cross a look. “And be safe.”

Cross simply waved two fingers and spun on his heel to leave. It was what it was. They were never going to be particularly likeable—never mind bearable—to one another. They managed to sit in the same room sometimes without glaring back and forth, and Cross figured that was progress.

He was all about the progress.

As long as it made Catherine happy …

He was all about her, too.

Cross was behind the wheel of the Rover, and backing it up while Catherine stuck her hand out the window and waved.