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On the cover was a picture of a happy baby boy and the title—So you’re having a boy? 1000 names to choose from.
As if it scorched my hand, I dropped the book back onto the crib and fled the house. That was two hours ago, and now here I am, sitting behind the wheel of my car, listing all the things I’m going to do to that bastard.
He’ll never lay one finger on his kid.
Not one finger.
I’ll make sure of it.
He’ll take his last breath tonight.
Tonight.
I’m not sure how much time passes when I realize that Zoey has been silent longer than she’s capable of.
“Something on your mind, little doe?”
She fiddles with the hem of her plaid button-down flannel shirt, her gaze fixed on one of the red and black squares.
“I was just thinking,” she replies, a hint of sadness in her tone.
“About?”
“Just that my dad never took me on any of his jobs, you know? I knew from the start how he made a living, but he never wanted me to be involved.”
“Did you want him to?” I ask softly.
She shrugs. “I was always a little curious, I guess. It would have been nice if he were more transparent with his job. I know he took my sister on a hit once. It actually made their relationship that much stronger. I guess I was envious.”
“Of your sister?” I arch a brow.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I guess I always felt like Dad wanted to protect me from that part of his life. Like he was scared that I might… like it.”
I take in her confession and chew it for a while before answering.
“Your father and I might not see things eye to eye where you’re concerned, but I know that every decision he made in the past was to keep you safe. You can’t fault a man for that.”
“I’m not. I just wish he would let me live my life how I want to live it, even if it means doing something he doesn’t approve of.” She sighs.
Again, I take her admission and dissect it for all it’s worth.
“You want to follow in his footsteps?”
She bites her lower lip, turning her face toward me to look me in the eye. “Would that have been so bad?”
“Killing scumbags as a profession isn’t exactly every father’s dream for his baby girl.”
“That’s just the problem. I’m not his baby girl anymore. I’m a woman—a woman who knows her own mind and can make decisions for herself,” she mutters.
My gaze trails over her small frame, and my skin starts to heat with her proximity.
“That you are. My woman.”
Her teasing smirk surfaces on her pretty little face, making me that more infatuated with her.
“That might be true, but we’re going to need to have a serious conversation about boundaries.”
“Boundaries?” I chuckle, surprising myself that I’m capable of such a thing considering the circumstances I find myself in. “Fine. Tell me what type of boundaries you have in mind.”
