“What?” I breathe, and his expression fills with warmth.
“If he had been that guy you needed, I don’t know that we’d be standing here right now, so after I’m done with him, I’ll send him a thank you card for fucking shit up with you.” He gives my waist a squeeze. “Because now all that is you is mine.”
I swallow, pretty sure that right now is the wrong damn time to be turned on, and force myself to focus. “You’re not really going to mess him up, are you?” I ask, and he grunts in response. Knowing that grunt, having heard it from my dad, uncles, and cousins, I decide to pull out the big guns. “Please don’t.” I soften my tone and eyes while running my fingers down his jaw. “I understand why you want to, and I get it even more because I wouldn’t mind kicking him in the balls right now. But at the end of the day, he does not factor into my life, into our life, and I don’t want him to think he does.”
“Something you’re going to have to learn, baby, is I take your protection seriously, and not only did he fuck up once, but he did it twice. And now he has a harsh lesson to learn. You do not fuck with my woman and get away with it.”
“Well, I hope you know that I do not have bail money to get you out of the slammer, since I spent almost all my rainy day cash when I was out shopping with your mom,” I say while hoping I can find ways to keep him busy so he doesn’t have the chance to mess Cohen up and end up in jail.
“I’m not going to need bail money, but even if I did, I’ve got it covered.” He grins, and my eyes narrow on his.
“I’m being serious.”
“I am too.” He leans down to brush his lips across mine, then pulls back and cups my cheek, smoothing his thumb across my bottom lip. “Enough talk about him. We’ve got shit to do today.” Damn but he’s right; we do have a lot of stuff to do today, most of it including driving around and searching out other locations for either a bar or a club, since he still isn’t one hundred percent sure he wants to purchase The Drop.
“Fine.” I let out a long breath. “I need to shower and get ready.”
“A shower sounds good.”
“I didn’t say you’re invited.”
“Does it look like I need an invitation?” he asks with a cocky smirk, and I roll my eyes. “Kiss me, baby, so I can get the dishes cleaned up.”
“You kiss me,” I sass, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide his hand that was on my hip across my back or wrap his hand that was around my neck under my chin as he bends me backward over his arm. The kiss—like always—is hot, but it’s more the emotions behind it that have my toes curling and heart pounding. I swear I can taste how he feels about me as his tongue slips between my lips. I kiss him back, digging my nails into his shoulder and sliding my hand into his thick hair, hoping he knows how deeply I’ve come to care about him.
In such a short time, he’s become important in a way that I wasn’t sure anyone would ever be. He’s accepted me for me, pushed when I’ve tried to pull away, and stood steady when I’ve felt like the tidal wave of emotions he’s brought up would send me under.
Every day, I wake up excited to find out what is going to happen between us, when normally any talk or thoughts of the future would freak me out. I’m falling hard and fast for him, and I really wouldn’t have it any other way, because even if he doesn’t say it with words, every action tells me he’s right there falling along with me.
_______________
“BABE, WHAT THE fuck is this?” Maxim asks, and I pull my cheek off his pec where it was resting and move my chin to the top of my hand on his chest so I can look at him.
Today, I was successful at keeping him busy so he didn’t have a chance to act on confronting Cohen. After we left the house this morning, we drove around Nashville, looking at about a dozen or more empty lots that are available for purchase. Ate lunch at one of my favorite chicken spots near downtown, then we came home to go over the list of locations and make a pros and cons list. We tried to figure out if it would be easier to build a place from the ground up or go through with purchasing The Drop. And the next few days should be just as busy, so I’m hoping he’ll be so preoccupied that he will forget all about Cohen.
“It’s a documentary.”
“Yeah, I know that, but why are you watching it?” he asks, and I glance at the television quickly.
“Because it’s interesting.”
“Some guy murdering multiple women over the course of three years while being married and having kids is interesting to you?”
“Yes.” I shrug, then start to rest my cheek back to where it was—where it’s been since after we ate dinner and decided to watch some TV.
“Baby, this shit is fucked up. How does this not give you nightmares?”
“Because I know that guy is not on the streets anymore. He’s locked up in prison where he can’t hurt anyone ever again.” I tip my head to the side. “Do you want me to change the channel?”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no,” he says, and I smile, because I’m sure he’s as invested as I am in the show. Just when I start to relax back against him, the doorbell goes off, and we both turn our heads toward the stairway leading to the first floor like we can see who’s here, when we definitely cannot. “Expecting someone?”
“No.” I lean over to snatch my cell off the coffee table in front of us just to make sure I didn’t have my ringer off and that my family isn’t attempting to get ahold of me. Not that I expect it to be them, since I spoke to my mom and sisters earlier today when we made plans for dinner at my parents’ place for Saturday. When I see I haven’t missed any texts or calls, I push up off Maxim just as the bell rings for a second time. “It might be a delivery person or something.”
“I’ll grab it.” He starts to get up, and I shake my head.
“I’ve got it.” I head for the stairs and roll my eyes when I hear him right behind me. When I reach the first floor, there is an outline of someone behind the etched glass, but with it being dark out, I can’t make out more than their shadow. I pull the door open, surprised to see a woman with a dark, cute bob, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“April?” she asks with a curious smile.
“Yes,” I say, feeling Maxim get close to my back and wrap his hand around my hip.
“Good.” She lifts her hand not holding the flowers, and I see something black, but it takes a second to process that it’s a gun. I don’t even have a chance to blink before I’m shoved roughly to the side by Maxim and end up crashing into the stand in my entryway, just barely catching myself before I end up on the floor. Ignoring the pain in my hip and arm, I right myself and turn to find Maxim and the woman in a tussle for the gun, the flowers she was holding now scattered all over my entryway floor.
Without thinking about what might happen, I charge forward, then my heart stops and my stomach twists painfully when there is a bang so loud it makes my ears ring. Ramming into her as I scream, I’m shocked when she drops easily to her knees, then curls in on herself, screaming in agony.
“Are… Are y-you okay?” I pull my attention off her to sweep my eyes over Maxim as he bends to pick up the gun discarded amongst the brightly colored flower petals littering the ground. Once he has it in his grasp, he holds it up, clicks the button on the side, and shoves it into the back of his slacks before meeting my gaze.