And Avery—well, there was nothing sexier than seeing the way she cared for my blood. For a baby who she had no connection with but was willing to protect with her life.
“We’ll probably be in a little later,” I told Avery, kissing her again before she finally stepped back with a warm smile.
“It was nice to finally meet you,” she said with a nod to Slate before heading for the stairs.
My buddy waited until she had disappeared completely before cracking a smile. “You got a baby and an old lady and didn’t tell me?”
“It’s complicated.” I shoved him in the shoulder before heading for the bar.
The bar where Avery had left two glasses and a piece of paper.
Cola pointed at one.
And rum and cola pointed at the other.
I knew I was grinning.
I just wasn’t aware of how hard until Slate choked out a burst of laughter and grabbed the rum and cola, shoving my shoulder this time before throwing back the entire glass in one go. “Complicated?” He snorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Looks pretty straightforward to me.”
“Okay, so it’s a long story.”
“I got all fucking night. Let’s hear it.”
AVERY
“He’s very cute.”
My intense focus on the supermarket’s shelves and shelves of baby formula and diapers was interrupted for a second as I looked up to see a man standing over Gage’s stroller. He was kind of young, maybe early forties, dressed in a fancy suit, blond hair parted and slicked back with not one single strand out of place.
The kind of guy a lot of normal women would like to have complimenting your baby.
Except he wasn’t my baby, and I wasn’t a normal woman.
Since losing Micah, I learned a serious lesson about who to trust. The man who murdered her was wealthy, he was charismatic, and he dressed fancy to perfectly disguise the monster he harbored inside his suit of armor.
Maybe that was why I was so drawn to Shotgun and the club because I knew what I was getting with them—rough exterior, worn leather, tattoos, and dirty mouths. I knew exactly who they were and the things they were willing to do for the club.
They didn’t try to hide it.
They didn’t try to be something else to draw people in or to trick them.
My heart skipped, and I stumbled a little trying to quickly gain my balance. Grabbing hold of the stroller handle, I pulled it a little closer to me, trying to play off the movement with a smile. “Thank you, he is.”
“You think he looks like his dad?” the man continued, not looking bothered by my nervous attempt to put some kind of distance between us. Though, maybe, he just didn’t give a shit.
Maybe he liked it—the fear.
“Sorry, what?” I questioned, wondering whether my brain was a little overwhelmed with memories to be thinking clearly. “Does he look like his dad?” I repeated what I thought I heard, taking a quick peek at the sleeping child. Gage didn’t move, his eyes shut, his pacifier just at the edge of his mouth like it was going to fall, but he kept sucking it back in just before it could.
A couple of older ladies passed by, pressing their hands to their hearts and sighing at the sight of him.
It warmed me to see him so adored.
Knowing he was going to be so loved.
“Yeah, I’ve never met Shotgun myself, but my wife seemed to think he was quite handsome.” It was like having a bucket of ice water tossed over my head—the shock hitting me first. “Well, at least I assume she must have since she fucked him and got pregnant while we were married.”
Run.
Get out.
It’s him.
I reached for the stroller, tugging it to me, at the same time keeping my eyes focused on a highly amused Mr. Suit. Hands shaking, I quickly unclipped Gage and lifted him out, pressing him to my chest and wrapping my arms firmly around him.
If I had to leave the stroller and run, I would.
I would not think twice about it.
“You look scared,” he mused, my sudden fear delighting him. “And why is that?”
“I know who you are,” I growled through clenched teeth, holding Gage a little tighter. “I know what you did to her.”
He didn’t simply murder her—not that murder was simple. But the way Shotgun described the scene it was heart-wrenching. This man made Emma feel as much pain as possible before he finally let her die.
He ran his tongue across his teeth. “She did me wrong,” he answered with a sneer, his eyes focused on the small baby in my arms, and it wasn’t a look of fondness for the baby his wife birthed. Instead, his lip was curled in disgust and hatred for this small human being that represented Emma’s betrayal.
One foot after another, I took small steps backward, hoping to put some distance between us but also possibly reach a crowd of people, then maybe use them to disappear.
The suited man followed, the wrath in his eyes switching off like a light and a smug grin appearing on his face. “What’s your name?” he inquired, meeting each step I took with one of his own. Though his were larger, more intimidating, and becoming problematic.
“Fuck you.”
“Pretty name.”
“It was my grandmother’s.”
His laughter was unexpected, the tone and trill of it reminding me of one of those really bad horror movies from the ’80s. It was a villain’s laugh, the one they do just before their epic monologue where they admit to all the crimes they’d committed, and the hero comes to the rescue.
This could be the exception, though, because I was fairly sure there was no hero coming.
If I wanted to get Gage and me out of here, I was going to have to do it on my own.
Kid was waiting in the car in the parking lot—I needed to get to him.
He had weapons.
I hoped.
“I like you. You have balls,” Mr. Suit taunted, his head falling to the side. “Emma was like that, too.” I let out a soft gasp, my heart stuttering for a second while the smile on his face seemed to grow wider. “And look where that got her.” He found my panic amusing. Of course, he did. He was one of those men who thrived on fear. A man who thought they were so fucking above everyone else. So untouchable that they can do anything they wanted. Invincible. Unstoppable.
So much so that they could hurt people who didn’t deserve to be put through that pain. Just like the man who stole my sister.
“Micah, it’s my birthday,” I groaned, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my chin on the top.
She giggled softly, continuing to swipe on a perfect red lip in the mirror and pay no attention to my consistent pouting. She was immune to it. “It’s early, Ave. I’ll be done by six, home just after, with enough time to make the place look pretty before people start arriving at eight.”
She was right.
There was time.
I was being a brat, and we’d already been over this three times this morning.
“You know he gives me the creeps, right?” I teased my big sister, remembering the way her boss looked at her when I picked her up from work last week. His eyes narrowed, his hands adjusting his suit constantly like some nervous tick. He watched her walk out of the lobby, but it wasn’t only a look of admiration or even attraction, it was an obsession, and it had given me the chills.