I held on ten more seconds because I needed to be sure.
Then I let him go and he dropped to the garage floor with his eyes and mouth wide open, not breathing. I stood over him and touched my cheek where he’d tagged me. It was swelling up already, my forearm was leaking blood from his scratches, and my ribs were sore from bracing against him. Fosso went out fighting though. I’d give him that much. More than I expected from a nigga who was half dead from cocaine before I even touched him.
I popped the trunk of the rental, dragged him across the concrete, and lifted him in. He was lighter than he should’ve been, probably hadn’t eaten right in days. I folded his legs, closed the trunk, and listened for a second to make sure nobody was coming. The garage was quiet, nothing but the sound of fluorescent lights buzzing and the traffic outside.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a pic of the body before I shut the trunk all the way. Sent it to Quest without a word because none was needed.
His response came back thirty seconds later.
Four Rios brothers down. Rodrigo and Gabriel were all that was left. I wiped Fosso’s blood off my arm with a rag from the glove box, checked my face in the rearview, and decided the swelling wasn’t bad enough to explain. I’d tell Mehar I walked into something. She wouldn’t buy it but she wouldn’t press meon it either because at this point we were all past pretending I spent my nights doing anything safe.
I moved the car to a different level of the garage and would get rid of the body after I finished my rounds. I then parked on the first level near the exit, wiped my hands one more time, and headed inside to check on her.
43
Mehar
“Where have you been?” I asked Quest when he walked through the NICU doors a little after one. I’d been at the hospital since the morning, sitting with Aziza, holding her when the nurses gave me the green light. Just me and my baby and the quiet beeping of her monitors while I waited for her daddy to show up.
Yesterday Justice had come by the hotel to check on me and I appreciated that more than he probably knew. But Justice wasn’t Quest. He wasn’t the one I fell asleep reaching for on the other side of the bed.
“I had to handle something with this war. I promised you on that island I was going to get the people that did this to us.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m sorry, Peach. But I’m here now.”
I wanted to be upset with him but the truth was I was more worried than anything. Something had been sitting behind his eyes for days now and I couldn’t figure out what it was. Every time I asked he gave me the same answer, the war, the Rios, stress. And maybe that was all it was. Maybe I was reading into things because my nerves were shot and my body was still healing and I hadn’t slept through the night since before theisland. But my gut kept telling me there was more. Something he was carrying that he wasn’t letting me help with.
I let it go for now because our daughter was right there and she deserved both her parents’ full attention.
We took turns with her. Quest held her against his chest and I watched his whole demeanor shift the way it always did when Aziza was on his skin. Whatever he was dealing with out there, in here he was just her father. Present, gentle and completely locked in. I loved seeing him like that. It reminded me why I chose him, why I survived for him, why none of the hard stuff mattered when I watched his face soften for our girl.
What worried me was what I’d been reading about preemies born under stress. The articles about potential delays, developmental setbacks, things that might not show up for months or even years. I hadn’t brought it up to Quest yet because I didn’t want to add to what he was already carrying. But it lived in the back of my mind every time I held her, every time I studied her little movements, every time I wondered if the island and the hurricane had left marks on her that we couldn’t see yet.
Whatever came, we’d handle it. She was ours and we’d give her everything she needed. But the Rios family had put us here. They’d damaged our daughter’s start in life before she even had a chance to begin it. I’d never forgive that.
“How’s the war coming?” I asked while he rocked her.
“We got one more thing to handle. After that, I’m all yours. I’m all hers. No more disappearing.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, Peach.”
I believed him because I needed to. And because despite whatever he was holding back, Quest had never broken a promise to me. Not on the island, not in the hospital, not once.
• • •
We spent the rest of the afternoon at the hospital together. When Aziza was sleeping we sat in the family lounge and talked about things that had nothing to do with war or surgery or monitors. He told me about Serenity’s case looking better and how Sarai was thriving. I told him I’d been FaceTiming Zainab every day and that the twins were driving everybody at the safe house crazy. We laughed about Riot’s security guys eating all the food within forty-eight hours. For a few hours it felt like us again.
He brought me back to the hotel around seven. We ordered food and ate on the couch and I leaned into him while some reality show played on the TV. His arm was around me, his hand resting on my hip, and I closed my eyes and breathed him in. For one hour none of it existed. No war, no NICU, no guards outside the door. Just us being still together.
Then his phone went off and the stillness broke.
“I gotta go meet with the guys. We got the last act of war tonight,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Early, but I’ll be here.”
“Quest.”
He looked down at me.
“Promise me you’ll come back.”
