“Does it matter?”
“Location matters.”
She had a point.
“Yeah, it’s Dad.”
“I thought the prognosis was hopeful,” she said warily.
“He’s dying. Slowly.”
Star hummed. “Okay. Air embolism. Triggers cardiac arrests and strokes. I know that he suffered a massive heart attack after the blast. It should look like natural causes that way.”
My throat tightened. “How do I do…?”
“Get a needle, withdraw it, then push the air bubble into—” She broke off, hummed again, then asked, “Does he have an injection site? Or only an IV?”
My brow furrowed. “This sounds very James Bond. I need this to work, Lodestar. I don’t want him to suffer—”
She stunned the hell out of me by rasping, “To live is to suffer, to die is to be at peace.”
For a minute, silence settled between us, then I murmured, “Help me help him. Please.”
“Speed. Into his IV line. It’ll work fast and will trigger heart failure. With the state he’s in, even if he’s showing signs of improvement, a heart attack will fly under the radar. There won’t be an autopsy,” she predicted before hesitantly asking, “Rex?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
She cut the call before I could thank her.
Without her tapping in my ears, a welter of exhaustion hit me. Compounded by grief, I heaved a sigh and, feeling ancient, staggered to my feet.
As I headed to the door, her advice whirled inside my head like I’d taken a tab of LSD and it was sending me into a deep, dark, bad trip.
A part of me hoped that Rachel would have waited for me, that she’d be the light at the end of the tunnel, that she’d be sitting at the kitchen table with her usual glower, but when I left the dining room, the kitchen was just as dark as my thoughts.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, wishing shit were different for us, wishing things had been different for my folks, I made my way to my bedroom.
I didn’t bother taking off my clothes, just shrugged out of my cut then flopped on top of the covers.
The second my head hit the pillow, I was graced with one blessing.
I slept.
NINE
NYX
Unknown Sender: You should reconsider your decision.
Me: I don’t deal with the ‘unknown.’
Unknown Sender: My identity will be revealed upon our initial meeting.
Me: Yeah, I don’t think so. This stinks of a setup by the pigs. Oink off, motherfucker.
Irritated, I shoved my phone into my pocket and edged into the downstairs living room that we’d claimed early on after moving into Rachel’s place.
The house was fucking massive, and she hadn’t bitched about it, so I didn’t feel guilty for stealing it.
I had to admit though—I was getting used to all this space and privacy. Enough that I’d fucking miss it when we moved back into the clubhouse.
Closing the door behind me and seeing her on the sofa, something inside me settled.
Giulia was a handful, a precocious pain in the ass who caused more trouble than a pixie on acid, but she lit my world up. Made me want more than to exist.
The moment I took a seat on the sofa, I hauled her onto my lap.
“Hey! I was comfortable,” she groused.
I snorted at the lie. “Bullshit.”
“How’s that bullshit?”
“You’re never comfortable now.”
She blinked at me. “You have a point, and I’m not happy about it. You owe me.”
“How do I owe you?”
“For stretch marks and backaches and constantly needing to use the bathroom.”
“What stretch marks?” I scoffed.
Her eyes narrowed as she tilted her head back to glower at me. As suspected, she lifted her top up. “See?”
I peered over her admittedly big belly, grimacing when I realized I'd seen my mom's double in size. If she thought she was big now, she didn't have a clue what was coming.
Christ, she was uncomfortable all the time as well.
That was only going to get worse.
Guilt hitting me, I determined to make it as easy on her as possible. I slipped my hands higher and grabbed a firm hold of her tits. “That’s all I can see.” It was only half a lie.
Fuck, she was hot.
My dick ached from the sight of her alone.
She elbowed me in the abs. “Jerk.” Then she squirmed against my lap.
Burying my face against her throat, I rumbled, “You like it when I’m a jerk.”
“I like it when you jerk something,” she agreed, wriggling some more as my dick became a more, shall we say, solid presence against her hip.
Nipping her throat, I licked the place I bit then told her, “You’re gorgeous.”
Squeezing her tits again, I let one drift down over the curve of her stomach. The skin was so taut that I knew it had to be discomforting.
Sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, she scratched the skin, but I noticed everything about her.
That’s why, tonight, I’d come armed.
Letting go of her tit, I snagged the tube of cream I’d bought her. I had no idea why it cost fifty fucking dollars a fluid ounce, but with how the clerk had amped it up, I thought it had diamonds in it.
She stiffened when she saw what I had, then, the second I splatted some on her belly, she groaned as I rubbed it in.
“I really shouldn’t let you do that,” she panted.
“Why not? I did the crime; I should do the time.”
That had her snorting. “You’re so matter-of-fact about this stuff.”
I shrugged as I smoothed the cream into her taut skin. It still fucked with my head that there was a kid inside her. This was Giulia. She already packed enough punch when there was just one of her, never mind two.
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, you know, because I’m gross?”
I sniffed. “Says who?”
“Me.”
“You feel that boner?”
“Yeah.”
“You can think you’re gross, but me and it are in complete agreement.”
“That I’m fuckable?”
I heard some amusement edging out the concern. “You’re more than fuckable.”
She groaned as I smoothed my hands along her side, flicking the edges of her tits.
“These sore today?”
“No. And you should have asked me that before you squeezed them earlier.”
“True.” I grinned. “I should have realized when you didn’t knee me in the balls.”
She sighed as I rubbed her tits too. It was less massage and more aftercare. Like I said—I’d done the crime. Not that my kid was a crime. But the havoc it was wreaking on the love of my life was crazy.
I pressed a kiss to the side of her cheek and mumbled, “You’re fucking beautiful.”
“I’m fat.”
“Maybe, but you’re beautiful.”
She chuckled. “You’re not supposed to say ‘maybe.’”
“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” I joked as I teased her nipples which were bra-free for once. I figured that was because we usually ended up falling asleep on the sofa as we watched a movie.