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He smiles again and I lose my cool. I aim my gun and pull the trigger. He starts screaming and holding his knee, his leg awash with blood. “I’m guessing point blank range on that kneecap didn’t feel so great. You still smiling?” I ask and lean back in my seat.
After a moment he gets himself somewhat under control. “So let’s start again, okay? Why’d you kill my parents?”
“Your father had information I needed on an arms deal. Your mother was bait.”
I nod my head slowly. I assumed it had something to do with that, and while I’ll never have all the answers, it’s some kind of closure for them.
“Where are your books? I want the accounts and all your black books.” Most bosses keep them. They like having dirt on anyone and everyone they can get. I’ll put the books to good use. Send them into the FBI with a fucking bow tied around them and let them sort the shit out. I’m done with all this bullshit, and I don’t want dirty hands any longer.
“That what this is really about? The fucking money? I’ll give you the money if you want it. Just let me go.”
“I don’t need your dirty money, I got my own that I didn't make off the blood of innocent people, but I’ll use yours for some good. Maybe save a few lives instead of destroying them like you seem to do.”
He stares at me for a minute, and I can tell he’s trying to see how far I’ll go. He should know by now the only thing that could stop me is death.
“Under the bed,” he snaps, nodding his head towards a room off to the left. Saint makes his way into the room and a moment later comes back with a pile of books and notepads, dropping them on the table.
“Why come back to get Layla after all this time?”
“I needed her signatures to release the funds. I was broke and I needed the money. I was never going to hurt her.”
“Bullshit!” I yell and shoot his other knee.
“Fuck!” he screams as more blood pours onto the floor.
“You mess with her brakes too?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but I just want confirmation so I know the whole story.
“I knew it wouldn't kill her. I just needed to draw you out. I swear I wasn't going to really hurt her,” he pleads again.
“Don’t tell me you were never going to hurt her. The second you took her from me you hurt her. You had her beaten, you neglected her and used her as bait. What kind of father does that?”
“Just wait, Carter. You’re about to be a father too. There’ll always be someone coming to try to take it away. Don’t let your family make you weak. Don’t make that mistake. She’s known fear her whole life. She won’t know how to live without it.”
I stand up, look down at him and raise my gun. “That’s where you’re wrong, Dean. She’s mine now, and for the rest of my life I’ll protect her. Her fear ends tonight but I’ll never stop looking over my shoulder. As long as I have a breath in me, she and our baby will always be safe. You can die knowing that you didn’t win, that she’s stronger than you. And one day, when our child is grown and asks who you are, she’ll struggle to remember because that’s how little she’ll ever think of you again.”
The single gunshot rings though the small cabin. I turn and grab the books off the table, then walk out. I hear Saint’s footsteps behind me as we exit.
We’re silent for a moment. “You killed him faster than I would have,” I say, thinking of Marco.
“Done with this shit, man. I could stay here all night and rip his fingernails off one by one, or I could snap his neck and spend the rest of my night inside my Mama.”
I nod in understanding, and we sit into the car. I understand his point. He’s been fighting to get back into her bed for months now, and I’ve been fighting to be with my Cherry for years. We're not wasting our time with this bullshit. Pulling on to the highway, my only thoughts are of my girl.
Chapter Twelve
Layla
“Wake up, baby,” Carter mumbles against my ear before peppering kisses down my neck. Rolling over, I wrap my arms around his shoulders. I knew he would come back to me – he always does –but I was still worried. I tossed and turned for hours before sleep finally took me.
“You showered,” I say, rubbing my nose against his neck and breathing him in. I swear I’ll never get enough of this man. “Why didn’t you wake me? I would have joined you.”
“Had to wash the filth off,” he rumbles and picks me up from the bed.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we make our way out of our room and quickly descend the stairs. I continue to nibble at his neck while he carries me.
“We’re free, Cherry, one hundred percent free.” Putting me down on the piano bench, he stands behind me and I take in what he’s said. My father is gone. Dead. I feel a lump rise in my throat, and I’m not sure if it’s because of my father’s death or the fact that now Carter and I can really have a life together. No more looking over our shoulders or wondering when the other shoe might drop. Not only that, but Carter is truly free. I’m not sure he’s been free since he was a little boy and his parents were taken away from him. He has that freedom now.
I feel a pressure I didn't even realize was there leave my chest. I won’t cry for my father. I’ve already wasted so many hours on him and he didn’t deserve them. If my father’s death grants Carter the freedom that he’s needed, then I would’ve pulled the trigger that took my father’s life myself. Now that I’ve had a taste of the life I can have with Carter nothing will stand in the way of that ever again, not even my own silly little self-doubts.
“Play for me,” he whispers and places an open-mouthed kiss on my shoulder before lying down on the sofa and closing his eyes.
I run my fingers over the keys and begin to play. When I look up, I see Saint and Jeanette staring at me from the top of the stairs. Both smile for a moment before turning to go back into their room.
I let myself fall into the music until I look out the windows and see the sun is finally starting to rise. Glancing over at Carter I see he’s still out and his chest falls and rises with his deep breaths. He looks utterly relaxed. I grab the blanket from the back of the sofa and I lie on top of him. Then I drift off to sleep, feeling happier than I can ever remember being.
“What the hell is that?” I glance over and see Jeanette standing in the doorway of the gym with her face all scrunched up.
She and I found the gym about a week ago when we couldn’t find the boys one day. We stumbled in to find our men working out in all their glory: half-naked, covered in sweat and grunting. I’m not sure how it took me so long to find – it was freaking massive – but in all fairness this entire warehouse is massive.
After the first time we found them in there I climbed up my man’s sweating body and had my way with him, getting my very own workout. Two days later a girly-ass corner magically appeared in the gym, complete with a comfy pink sofa, a table, and a pink mini fridge. Where Carter found a pink fridge is beyond me. When I asked him about it all he said was, “my woman wants to watch me work out and fuck me to death after I’m done, I’m going to make sure she can,” which only made me giggle. One might think a man wouldn’t want his woman’s “girly shit” all up in his stuff but Carter said I could paint the whole fucking house pink if it made me happy. He said it’s because when I’m happy he’s happy and apparently that’s all that fucking matters.
“You like it?” I ask, li
fting my feet up so she can have a place to sit down.
“You can get that man to do anything, Lays,” she quips with a half-smile on her face. She sits down and pulls my feet into her lap.
“You’re one to talk,” I reply, because I’m just as sure Saint would build Jeanette a pink freaking house if she asked. As long as he got to be in her bed in that pink house every night, he’d do whatever she asked. Not that I could ever see Jeanette wanting much of anything pink.
“If I could get that man to do what I said, I sure as hell wouldn’t be where I’m at.”
“Where are you at?” I ask. I’m not sure what she means. She and Saint seem great, wonderful actually. I love having them here, and I’m not looking forward to their leaving anytime soon, but I’m sure it’s coming. My father has been out of the picture for a few weeks now, and everyone has just been enjoying being here. Any time there has been talk about going back home or getting back to work, the men quickly dismiss it. I know I’m not going back to the library, but I’m not sure what Jeanette is doing. She runs that place, and I’m not sure how they’re getting by without her. She said something about having a ton of vacation time stacked up, but that has to be coming to an end soon.
She starts rubbing my tiny baby bump and just ignores my question. When she makes eye contact with me it hits.
“Oh, my God!” I squeal, jumping up and hugging her.
“Calm down, Lays. I’m not even sure yet. I’m just kind of late and all.”
I can’t stop the stupid smile spreading across my face. It might just crack my face in half. I get to be knocked up with my best friend – that’s pretty freaking kickass.
