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“Eventually,” I waved her off, walking forward with purpose. “But first I want your opinion on names.”
“Names?” Stella repeated, obviously confused by the rapid change in subject.
But it made perfect sense to me. We were getting married. That was a grown up and serious thing to do. Would I take his name? Walker? I liked that, and it went with the double W thing I had going on. So I would have to choose our child’s name accordingly.
“Yes, names,” I replied. “I’m thinking Striker for a boy and Hudson for a girl.” I smiled. We hadn’t found out the gender, but I had a feeling it was a little girl. Hudson Walker. Totally cute and badass.
“Karson has tried to veto these, of course, but his name is Karson. How can he think he has a leg to stand on?” I shook my head as we left the store.
I was going to tell Stella that I had a feeling it was a girl, that I just knew.
But I didn’t get the chance.
Wheels screeched against the road, the roar of an engine drowning out all sounds.
Except the shots. And the screams.
I heard all of that.
Then I heard—heard not felt—the bullet tearing through flesh, bone, through my future, absolutely fucking tearing it apart. My life did not flash before my eyes as I fell to the ground, my blood staining the baby clothes she would never wear. No, my mind flashed to my future, the one draining out of me.
Karson and I would not get married.
I thought about the moment a lot in the months that followed. A lot may be a slight understatement. I thought of it every second I was awake—which was a lot since my insomnia had gotten to the point where the only time I slept was when I drugged or drank myself to oblivion. Even then I got only a few scant hours. Even then I dreamed of the moment.
I would not take his name.
Nor would our child.
PART TWO
WHAT DIES HERE
CHAPTER ONE
Mad World – Michael Andrews
KARSON
I knew something was wrong the second Jay called me into his office at Klutch. We were in the middle of a shitstorm with the Russians, I had weapons deals to oversee and there was gang conflict stirring in East Hollywood. We were stretched thin. Too thin for Jay to be calling me to his office, telling me the news that was too important for a phone call.
I knew something was very fucking wrong when I walked into his office.
Initially, I thought something was wrong with the working girls. There were many interested parties who wanted the revenue those girls brought in, wanted to take over the business. Parties who would do whatever it took. Who would not treat those women with respect.
Jay cared about the working girls, in his own way. He couldn’t show it, not even a little. If he did, he would show his enemies a weak spot. Something they could hurt, destroy, something that would leave him vulnerable.
Marrying Stella was the most dangerous thing he’d ever done, in his eyes at least. He knew what it would mean, knew the danger he’d be putting her in.
I never wrestled with that with Wren. I worried about her. Every fucking day. Every fucking minute of every fucking day. But I did not attempt to reason myself into shutting her out, hiding how I felt for her.
Not possible.
And I was not a good man. I would not let her go to save her from this life.
The life that Wren lived meant she was on the edge of danger at any given moment, with or without me.
Now that she was pregnant, I was hypervigilant. Especially since she didn’t slow down, not in the slightest. Running around planning Jay and Stella’s wedding, flying to fucking Italy for flowers and wine without telling me.
