He sat down on the cot next to her. "Tell me what, Owani?"
"I guess Van was trying to impress Vivian with how well he was handling the dealerships." She rolled her eyes. "It was after my grandmother died. I heard him tell Vivian that he'd been approached by a company, heck, it might've even been the government." She paused and looked up at him. "You may not believe this, but I thought I heard him say something about being able to trace stolen automobiles with hidden devices that are tracked by satellites. Like, satellites in space," she told him, her tone doubtful. She swallowed. "I know it sounds farfetched, but I swear I heard him say something like that."
It wasn't farfetched. In fact, Anthony had already had almost this same conversation with Grizz, although he would never tell Christy that. Grizz always seemed to stay one step ahead of the law and Anthony knew not to ask where he'd gleaned this information. But it wouldn't be the first tip from Grizz that kept Anthony out of trouble. For now, Grizz told him that even though Bobbi's dealerships had been approached to be used as a prototype for the tracking devices, for reasons unknown, they'd decided not to go through with it. And of course, he would let Anthony know if and when that changed.
"If it's true, my contacts will let me know before I'm in any danger of being caught and I'll nix the operation." He paused and gave Christy a serious look. "Unless you want me to stop it now, Owani. I'd stop it for you."
She looked down at the floor and nodded. "I don't know, Anthony. My only reason for asking you to stop would be my concern for you getting caught. I don't care about the money. I'm embarrassed to tell you that I don't even care about the fraud." She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shiny from tears that were starting to form. "I couldn't bear to think of you going to jail."
"Do you trust me enough to let me handle it my way?"
She sniffled and nodded her head. She stood up to leave at the same time he lay back on the cot, his feet still touching the floor. She turned to look at him and cocked her head to one side. He leaned up on his elbows and extended one hand toward her.
"Come here, Christy. I want to make you smile."
"I'm fine, Anthony," she told him. "And we have to leave. We need to stop by the attorney's office before they close."
"Then you have to make me smile," he told her.
"I can do that on the way to the attorney's office," she told him. It wouldn't be the first time she performed oral sex on Anthony in his truck.
"It won't work in the truck," he sat up and started to unzip her jean shorts.
"What won't work?" she asked, but her voice came out hoarse, her insides already betraying her. She didn't resist as he slid her shorts and panties down and leaned back, pulling her on top of him.
"I can't make you scream the way I want to while I'm driving my truck. It's physically impossible, and if I thought there was a way I'd have figured it out by now." He gave her a sly smile and said, "Scoot up here, Owani. Come sit on my face."
And she did.
And she smiled.
And she screamed.
Chapter Forty-Two
Naples, Florida 1979
It had been two weeks after Nadine's marriage announcement when Anthony decided he would go behind Christy's back and contact her childhood nanny, Litzy. He was going to talk to her about Christy and the depression that seemed to be overwhelming her. He wanted to ask Litzy if she would consider moving back to the Naples area. But first, he would need to know as much about her as possible before deciding on the best means to lure her back to South Florida. He'd tasked X with having Grizz's man, Axel, gather as much information as he could on Litzy Ramirez. Axel not only managed the car theft operation, but he had connections that provided detailed background checks.
In the meantime, Anthony knew he couldn't entice Christy with anything monetary, but he could do the next best thing. He could keep her busy to take her mind off Nadine's upcoming move. It wasn't hard. Even though the management of her estate and trust fund was solid, having Vivian declared legally dead caused some complications and he'd accompanied Christy to more meetings with attorneys than he’d cared to. Soon, Christy would be called on to manage the dealerships, or at least make decisions as to who she would want to oversee them. Anthony thought the janitor could've done a better job than Van had been doing. Still, he was surprised when she suggested Valerie, Bobbi's longtime friend and original administrative assistant.
"I'm sure there are people better qualified for the job, Christy," he told her. "And isn't she Bobbi's age? Wasn't she visiting retirement communities when you called last year trying to find Van?"
"She certainly could retire, but she's not Bobbi's age," Christy told him. "My grandmother was in her forties when she opened her first dealership. She hired Valerie right out of high school—she was more than twenty years younger than Bobbi. Who better to manage the dealerships than someone who knows my family inside and out? Someone who’d been at Bobbi's side since the beginning?"
Anthony nodded, seeing some wisdom in her suggestion. Changing the subject, he burst out with a suggestion of his own. "I think it's time to clear out your apartment."
It hadn't gone unnoticed that other than her clothes and a shoebox of mementos, Christy had brought nothing of hers to his house. He was secretly grateful because he couldn't see her white furniture fitting anywhere in his ranch house.
"Why do I need to clean it out?" she asked.
"I know it's probably nothing to you, but I don't see why you should waste your rent on an apartment you don't use." He paused before adding, "You could bring some or all of your furniture here." He practically choked out the last words and she smiled.
"I don't want anything from my apartment, Anthony. Besides, looking back now, all that white was so depressing."
"You mean you don't prefer white?" he asked. He was certain that his dark and masculine tastes grated on her sense of style.
"I never preferred white. It just made decorating simple." She looked up at him with a sad smile. "After Abby died and Litzy moved away, my life was void of color until Nadine showed up.” She looked down shyly before adding, “And until you came along, Anthony."
He smiled back at her. He was glad that she found her way back to color and that he had something to do with it. Especially since some of her vibrant artwork gave his home a warm and cozy feeling. He smiled inwardly, trying to recall a time he had ever used, let alone thought of, the word “cozy.” Probably never.
"So, how about we clean out your apartment, plug that small leak and leave it open for someone else to rent?"
"It's not a priority and I don't need to plug a leak. I don't pay rent," she told him, brushing him off.
"What does your landlady—what was her name, Evelyn? What does she think about you not paying rent?" he asked.
"She's not my landlord. She's the complex manager. I own the development."
"Of course you do," he answered wryly.