That night we stay in San Francisco, walk down to the docks, and spend time at a little restaurant with a view. The next morning, we head to Sonoma and Candace is like a little kid, she’s so excited. “I have always wanted to go to wine country,” she says as we load in the rental, driving separately from the guys. I’m making every effort, and so are they, to make this trip about me and Candace and to downplay how present our protection has to stay.
On the way to Sonoma, Candace lures me into a “how well do you know me” game.
“What’s my favorite food?”
“You act like I just met you. Macaroni and cheese. What’s mine?”
“A hamburger, but donuts are a close second. What’s my favorite movie?” she asks.
“An Officer and a Gentleman because you’re a sap. What’s mine?”
“You tell everyone it’s Blade with Wesley Snipes because you’re not a sap. In truth, it’s The Wrestler and it makes you cry every time when it shouldn’t make you cry.”
“He loses everything, baby. He’s washed up.” I ball my fist at my chest. “That shit gets real.”
She laughs, and it’s such a damn perfect delicate little laugh. A little goofy and somehow, I like it all the more.
We arrive in Sonoma at the swanky hotel, where I’ve opted for a suite with a balcony and view of rolling mountains and green fields over a private mansion, for safety reasons. Adam and Lucifer will be next door. Once our luggage arrives, I tip the bellman and do what any respectable newlywed would do. I get Candace naked.
She’s standing on the balcony. I come up behind her and nuzzle her neck. “I want you,” I say. “Right here.”
“Here? As in on the balcony?”
“That’s right.”
She whirls around, her skirt lifting in the breeze. “We can’t do it on the balcony.”
I catch that floaty skirt and proceed to prove her wrong. It’s not long before I’m inside her, and she’s forgotten where we are. As it should be on our honeymoon. And if I keep her in the room naked, who needs Adam and Lucifer?
However, the minute we’re dressed, she says, “Let’s go downtown. I heard it's adorable.”
I almost laugh at the contrasting version of myself. The man who used to kill people for a living and the man who goes to see what the adorable downtown of Sonoma looks like. But that is exactly what I’m about to do and enjoy every fucking minute.
I text Adam: We’re going to the adorable downtown.
He replies with: Actually, it’s pretty adorable. I’ve seen it.
I laugh and Candace’s brows furrow in question. I show her the message exchange and now she laughs. “I kind of love that I can make you both say adorable.”
She links her arm with mine and to the door we go. And I’m smiling all the way to the hired car and beyond. We leave the car behind at the center of town and begin strolling the “adorable” town, walking in and out of little stores, just enjoying life together. It’s not until we're sitting at a little bar, drinking wine, that I become uneasy. And uneasy for me means trouble. The kind that makes me kill someone. And that is not what a man wants to feel on his honeymoon, not even me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Savage
I text Adam: My radar is going off. Tell me I’m being paranoid.
We have eyes on you and all looks good, he replies. But we’ll stay alert.
Candace’s hand slides to my leg and she draws me back to her. Slowly, I ease out of that paranoia and live fully in the moment. Soon me and my baby are drinking another glass of wine and I’m back to enjoying myself despite a nagging sense of something being off. It doesn’t disappear, it just fades, and I let it do so because Adam and Lucifer are nearby. Because I know that I love this woman, and I want to protect her to such a degree that I could see danger in an ant right about now.
When Candace and I finally decide to leave our cozy little spot, we do so reluctantly, and with a vow to return before we leave. “At least once before we leave,” Candace insists.
“You assume you won’t find a few other places you like just as much,” I remind her. “But at least once,” I agree.
Pleased with my answer, she moves on. “You know,” she says, as I pay the bill, “before we call the car, I saw ice cream down the road. You want to get ice cream?”
“Is that a real question?” I ask. “I scream for ice cream. You scream for me.”
Her cheeks flush and she nudges me. “You’re so bad.”
“And you love it.”
“And you. I love you,” she says.
Sometimes when she says those things to me, so damn easily, I wonder how a bastard like me got one chance with a woman like her, let alone two. Sometimes I think she just pretends I was never who, and what, I was. And sometimes I think that one day she’ll wake up and remember. And it will not be in my favor.
We head for the exit, her arm linked with mine, and she smiles up at me. And then almost as if she’s read my mind, she assures me she knows exactly who, and what, I was, and still am. “Rick Savage,” she says, “ex-assassin, turned domestic, on his way to get ice cream with his wife. I’m pretty sure there are a lot of people who won’t believe it.”
“Well, fuck those people. If I want to stroll in an adorable town and eat gobs of ice cream with my wife, I will.” And because I’ve learned that despite my fear of losing her, I have to be me, or this will never work, I add, “And I can still kill anyone who needs killing.”
“Yes, you can,” she says, and as we exit to the street she halts and turns to face me and adds, “And believe it or not, Rick Savage, I find that incredibly sexy.”
I pull her to me. “You shouldn’t, but I’m glad you do.”
Heat burns between us, but the door to the restaurant opens and explodes with people. We step right and when she shivers from the swift shift from the sixties to the evening forty-something mountain air, I quickly grab the light jacket she’s holding, and help her put it on. Then I slide my arm around her and set us in motion.
***
Adam
Lucifer and I are perched on the low rooftop of a building, him sitting on the ground with his MacBook open, me with binoculars, watching Candace and Rick stroll downtown Sonoma.
“Dexter just got here,” Lucifer informs me. “He’s grabbing us food.”
“My stomach says thank you, but tell me again, why the hell is he here?”
“He said and I quote: ‘Why the hell did I think visiting my fucked-up family in San Francisco would be any less fucked up than it ever is?’ I’m pretty sure work is his escape.”
“Yeah well, Savage doesn’t like or trust people he doesn’t know well. He barely trusts you. Let’s keep Dexter being here on the down-low.”
“Fuck,” Lucifer curses suddenly.
“Hey man,” I say. “It sucks, but it’s his honeymoon.”