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We had passed one of my new neighbors as they handed another individual a baggie of white powder two doors down, and I nodded. I had lived in worse places. It would be fine—for now.
"I'm serious, Kingsley." He never called me King. "We will find something better before the baby comes."
I had held his stern gaze for a long moment. "Okay." I think I was still digesting what had transpired over the last seventy-two hours after peeing on the pink stick.
With the airconditioning in the Jeep on full blast, I'm pulling out of the parking lot as my phone starts vibrating in the passenger seat. My heart instantly begins to race. Only a handful of people have my new number, yet every time I get a call, my thoughts immediately go to Wes. God, I miss him so much. Instinctively, I put my hand over my belly.
"Who do you think it is, Nugget?" I whisper, not sure if I'm asking her or me. My checkup is next week, and the ultrasound technician told me I'd probably be able to find out the gender. In my mind, though, I've been calling my little bean "her" since the day the two stripes appeared on the test.
I glance over and see Kiwi on the screen. I smile, but at the same time, my vision becomes cloudy. Blinking rapidly, I try not to lose sight of the road. The last thing I need is to get into an accident. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to our baby—my baby. I'll call him back when I get home.
Home being the studio crapshoot apartment I'm still renting in the apartment complex that's anything but safe. Gray hadn't mentioned finding a more suitable place in a while, so I promised myself—and Nugget—that I'd get us out of there myself. With the number of shifts I've been taking, I can save up enough to move the two of us into a nice(er) area. There is no way I'm going to let my baby grow up here. I turn the stereo on, and my beloved Jeep plays the last song I listened to on my phone's playlist. "Broken" by Jonah Kagen comes through the speaker, and I hit the steering wheel in frustration.
"Really?" I can hear the quiver in my voice. My eyes start watering instantly. There hasn't been a single time in the last few months that this song hasn't made me cry my eyes out. Out of control hormones, leaving behind the man I love, the fear of not being able to provide for my baby, but also reliving the moment he found out who I was…everything comes rushing back, and I have to pull over.
I go through an entire packet of tissues before I can keep driving. Glancing at the dash, it's already ten o'clock, and I'm covering the morning cleaning shift at the hotel—the other job I gotmyself. My alarm will go off at four thirty—that will be fun.
I pull into my designated parking spot at 10:13 and notice the black Escalade. My first thought is,they found me. Whoever killed Vic finally tracked me down. But then I remembered Gray's call three days ago. He was sure no one knew where I was.
A second thought hits, and I mumble to myself, "Fucking hell, the feds arresting someone else?"
Wouldn't be the first time.
I grip the Du Hoc in one hand, pull the car key out of the ignition, and slip two keys through my fingers, making me look like a piss-poor version of the Wolverine. Better safe than sorry.
It's the same ritual every night, and my skin prickles until I'm inside my apartment. Sliding out of the seat, I groan as my feet hit the cracked cement. There is no way I can keep this up for another four months—not at this rate.
Clutching the knife harder, I dip my chin and hurry past the parked SUV. If anyone is in there, I can't see them through the tinted windows. Hopefully, I can make it upstairs and inside before the shit hits the fan.
I take two steps at a time and fumble with the lock. Everything is quiet, which puts me more on edge. My hands tremble, and sweat creeps on my palms. My keys slip twice before I can complete this simple task. As soon as my door is shut, I flip the triple lock and lean my forehead against it. Sighing in relief, I let my bag drop to the ground next to me.
I'm halfwayto the galley kitchen when someone knocks at the door. My heart skips a beat, and my hand flies to my chest. What the—?
Whoever it is, it's not a forceful knock. Not like I'm used to from the cops when they're looking for one of my lovely neighbors. Yes, that has also happened.
This is temporary, I remind myself.
The soft tapping comes again, and I slowly swivel on my heels and walk back. I take a deep breath and peer through the peephole.
Oh, God.
I duck to a crouch, as if that would tell the person on the other side that I'm not here.
"King?" At her voice drifting through the piece of wood, I cover my ears.
No, no, no.
"King? We know you're in there. We saw you walking up."
We?
"We're not going to hurt you," her voice raises.
I can't leave her—them—out there. It'll draw the attention of my neighbors, and that's the last thing I want—no, having her in my apartment is the last thing. My head begins to throb from the internal battle. Neither alternative is any good—not for me. What is she doing here?
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I untangle myself, my aching legs protesting as I straighten. Nugget probably isn't too happy with me either for squishing her between my thighs. I glance down at the slight but noticeable bulge under my uniform.
