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“Houston is dead,” I inform her, and the shock on her face tells me she didn’t know. “The scene was something out of a horror film. I don’t even want to discuss it right now.” I know she’ll call one of the other guys and they can fill her in. “There’s something I should probably tell you,” I say before taking off to her bathroom.
“Well,” she prompts when I don’t say anything.
“You have to swear you will not go run your mouth about it. To anyone.”
“I really have to verbalize that? It should be implied.” She stands, placing her hands on her hips. “I do know when to yack and when to keep my mouth shut, you know.”
“Sometimes, I wonder,” I mumble.
“Hey!” she shouts.
“Okay, okay,” I concede and pause, taking a breath. Looking her in the eye, I say, “I’m pregnant.”
“I know.” She cringes, and when I demand she explain with a look, she goes on. “Maybe we’ve been banging for a little longer than I led you to believe.”
Eric told her? Un-fucking-believable. Drago would be pissed.
“How long?” I demand, suddenly pissed that she’s kept this information silent for so long. It’s not like we’re the best of friends or even hang out that often outside of work, but she is my partner for Christ’s sake. I confide shit to her that I don’t tell anyone else. The only reason I hadn’t told her about the baby before now is because I was trying to honor Drago’s wishes for no one else to know. But then I realized Connie is someone we can definitely trust, and she can help if needed. If she’s in the loop, that’s another set of eyes and ears to look out for the bad guys.
She smiles, looking guilty, and I’d bet they’ve been fucking for damn near as long as I’ve known him.
“I’m going to shower, and then I’m going to find the most expensive outfit in your closet, and you better not say a word.” I stalk off.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
BRIANNA
The following Monday, I get home early, before it’s time for dinner. I’ve stopped berating myself for calling Drago’s big house mine. I haven’t spoken the words out loud, but even he’s been referring to his home as ours. Gabe and I spent Saturday night at my condo, then D showed up a little after midnight, claiming he couldn’t sleep without us there.
It was sweet, and well, I hadn’t gotten a lick of shut-eye either. Even Gabe was restless since we’d been home. My condo smelled musty and not lived in. I spent several hours cleaning it from top to bottom, and when I got done, I bathed the baby. He cried for an hour in the crib. After tiring of listening to him weep, I brought him into my bedroom and laid him down with me. We still didn’t get any sleep until Drago crawled into bed with us.
So, I caved on Sunday. It was pointless making us all stay there when Drago’s house is so big, and his sister, brother, and even Mona and granddaughter are over all the time. It’s where I wanted to be when I wasn’t working anyway.
Former Detective Lance Houston was buried today. It’s why I’m off and walking into the house at four in the afternoon. It was a simple, graveside funeral, but with more cops than even I’m used to being around. The Chief asked everyone in the department who wasn’t working on anything urgent to attend. Detectives from all over the city were in attendance. He was one of our own who went astray. And although I don’t think he should have been honored for his service, Tom liked Houston and requested it anyhow.
On one hand, it seemed somewhat like a betrayal, but when I think about Tom’s words from last week—I didn’t want a man I had mentored to sit wasting his life in a cell—I feel sorry for my commanding officer. It can’t be easy mentoring a man that turned dirty. Who knows his reasons, but to me, his actions said it all. He was a full-fledged member of the Dirty Blue, and as such, I don’t feel anything except disgust by how it ended. I’d rather have seen him behind bars than end up tortured like he was.
It’s too quiet inside the house when I enter through the mudroom and then walk into the kitchen. It’s empty and not a sound to be heard. I don’t even hear the TV from the living room.
Setting my purse on the counter, I walk out of the kitchen and into the living room. Drago is seated with his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table and his back leaned against the couch. Glancing down to his lap, Gabe is lying against his leg, and they are looking at each other.
I lean against the opening, watching them.
“You’re not subtle about being a creeper,” Drago comments, not looking up.
“It’s not creeping, it’s admiring my man with his son.” And it’s a beautiful sight, but I keep that to myself. God, he is sexy as hell. Apparently, a man with a baby is what does it for me.
“Why is it that I’d do anything to ensure his wellbeing?” D looks up, our eyes connecting from across the room. “I mean, it’s not like I ever wanted or imagined I’d have a son.” His eyes glance down to my stomach. “Or daughter, or kid at all.” I push off the wall and walk toward them.
“It’s instinctual I think.” I slide on the couch next to him and kick off my shoes. My feet are tired from standing at that funeral. With so many people there it was long and felt drawn out. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, it’s probably wrong, but I don’t rightly care. Maybe that’s wrong too.
“Maybe,” he agrees.
“Where’s CC? Why are you sitting in here in the dark?” All the lights are shut off and only the light from outside is shining in through half-open blinds.
“Said she was going out to an early dinner with some friends after her last class. She’ll be home later tonight,” he tells me.
“So, we’re alone, alone?” It’s never quiet here, which I like. His siblings or Mona are always around, so I haven’t spent alone time with Drago except for at night, in bed, since we’ve been back together. He smiles, hearing my underlying meaning for sex.
