Lifting my head, I push the fallen strands away from my face and stare at the door.
Like the drugs lost their desire, following Jack into the depths of hell has too.
Turning to him, I meet his gaze and deliver him the truth.
“Pipe ain’t the only one here who is going to be a father,” I rasp. “Lacey’s pregnant.” I let the words sink in for the both of us and I realize, in that moment, I’m done.
There’s more to life than this shit.
“One more time, Parrish,” I croak. “Are you sure about this?”
“No, I’m not,” he replies, staring at me. “But it’s too late now.”
Sadly, he’s right.
It’s too late for change.
He pulls a pair of rosary beads out from under his shirt and I watch as his thumb traces the cross.
It’s too late for prayers.
We make our way inside the paper factory and Jack starts to negotiate with Javier. Ignoring my incessant racing heart, I struggle to keep up with everything going on around me. Suddenly one of Javier’s men comes running into the factory and all eyes turn to him as his hand slices across his throat, signaling for Javier to pump the brakes.
“No hay trato, el trato esta muerto!!”
“What the fuck is he saying?” Jack shouts.
Javier narrows his eyes and advances toward Jack.
“Crees que puedes jugar conmigo?”
“No one’s playing you,” I argue. His gaze slices to me and I lift my hands in the air, surrendering to his unwarranted suspicions.
“Tenía a mis hombres fuera de la casa en caso de que intentaras alguna mierda. Ahora tengo que de mis mejores ingresos sangrando en la cuneta.”
“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!” Jack demands.
Before I can translate, Javier pulls two guns from their holsters and points one at Jack and one at me.
Again, the clock runs out on us.
Gunfire breaks out around us and as I reach for my weapon, Javier pulls the trigger on both guns. A creature of habit, my first thought is to stand in front of the man I swore to protect. My body springs into motion and I stumble slightly, dropping my gun as Javier’s bullet pierces my flesh.
There’s more to life than this.
But I’ll never know it.
Chapter Twenty
Lacey
My stomach was in knots and I’m not even sure I can blame it on the pregnancy. I spent the better part of the day on my knees in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet, waiting for my husband to walk through the door or for Riggs to call and say he was okay. Neither happened and when Reina showed up at my house with her mask fit to her face, I knew something was terribly wrong.
We both earned a nod from the academy with the performances we gave. She played the role of an excited stepmother and fiddled with her phone, creating a Pinterest board for the nursery while I starred as the expectant mother, faking interest in themes and bumper sets.
I didn’t tell her about my argument with Blackie or that he was missing for twenty-four hours and she didn’t tell me why she was really there.
We faked it for hours.
Until the sight of her made me sick and I could take it no more.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I announce, slapping my palms to my thighs. Reina lifts her eyes from her phone, narrowing them in confusion. “Why are you really here?”
“I have no idea what you mean by that,” she says, flippantly. Turning her screen around, she shows me a picture of a safari themed nursery. “Isn’t this cute if it’s a boy? We can have that guy your father knows come and paint a jungle scene on the walls.”
Sure she can’t be serious, my mouth hangs open and I start to wonder if my father’s insanity has rubbed off on her. Snapping out of it, I pull myself up and snatch the phone out of her hands.
“I’ve had enough,” I say, exiting the Pinterest app. Tossing the phone on the couch, I place my hands on my hips. “Did Riggs call you? Is that why you’re here? Something happened, didn’t it?”
I watch as she closes her eyes for a split second and sighs. Her lips part and just as she’s about to confess her reasons for being here, her head snaps towards the front of the house. The rolling thunder of a pack of motorcycles sounds and my back instantly straightens with both fear and hope. A sense of déjà vu washes over me and before I can analyze it, my feet start to shuffle towards the door. It hits me as my hand closes around the knob, the familiarity of the situation.
I’ve done this before.
I’ve rushed to the door, expecting to find Blackie and instead it’s my father.
It’s always my father.
Disappointment fills me as I stare into his dark eyes. No words are exchanged between us and I know from experience that no news is not good news—not for people like us. Silence isn’t golden, it’s what we do when we know the words we’re about to say cut too deep.
Tearing my gaze away from him, I look behind him and spot Pipe standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears a solemn expression on his face and next to him stands Riggs. He doesn’t even lift his head to look at me.
Bracing my hand on the door, I feel Reina come up behind me and place her hand on my shoulder. I look back at my father and notice his eyes are glued to my stomach.
“You’re pregnant,” he says hoarsely, lifting his gaze back to me. Ignoring his comment, I swallow roughly.
“He told you,” I murmur softly. The knowledge that Blackie told my father our news sparks a flicker of hope in me and my gaze drifts over his shoulder once more but instead of finding my husband, the same two people stare back at me. I look back at my dad and he lifts his gaze to mine. His expression is unreadable, and tears instantly fill my eyes.
“Where is he?” I stammer fearfully. “Did something happen to him?”
“Let’s go inside,” he says.
Those three words cripple my strength and my knees buckle. My father must sense I’m about to fall because his arm quickly wraps around my waist, catching me before I fall. With Reina’s help, he ushers me in the house and sits me down on the couch.
Taking a seat on the coffee table, he leans forward and places a hand on my knee. His eyes meet mine and he reveals Blackie’s been shot. He quickly follows up by telling me it’s not a fatal gunshot wound. The bullet clipped his shoulder and they’re working on removing it.
“What does that mean? Who is they?”
Before he can answer, I shake my head and comb my fingers roughly through my hair. For the last twenty-four hours, I’ve feared my husband was lying in the street dead from an overdose. I never expected my father to show up on my doorstep and tell me Blackie’s been shot. As sick as it sounds, I’m sort of relieved. Who says that? Who would rather their husband take a bullet than suffer through another relapse?
“Forget it, it doesn’t matter. Where is he? You need to take me to him. I need to see him,” I demand.
Squeezing my knee, my father gives me a curt nod.
“That’s why I’m here. I need you to pack a bag for you and him,” he reveals, causing me to narrow my eyes in confusion.
“What does that mean?”
“It means there was an issue, Lace,” he grinds out, slicing his eyes to Reina. “I’m going to need you to stay here in case the cops show up looking for him,” he tells her before turning back to me and offering me an explanation. “Blackie needs to remain off the grid until I can figure something out and seeing as he’s injured and you’re pregnant, it’s best if I bring you up there to stay with him.”