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There were snorts that followed that statement, then Crimson saying, “Yet you found the biggest one of them all and married him. Oh, and had kids with him.”
Speaking of kids.
They were lying in the middle of Crimson’s bed, and she was staring at the babies with longing.
My heart hitched at the sight.
“What?” I asked.
She frowned. “I want to hold them.”
I looked to Coffey, who nodded once.
Picking the one up closest to me—the first child in my arms since my own had been there—I moved the baby so that he was in the curve of Sunny’s arms. Helping hold him there, I stayed that way while the discussion flowed around me.
“What is the plan for him?” Slone asked. “Is he going to go to jail?”
It was Hannibal who said, “He’s not going to get to go to jail.”
Nobody said a word to that.
But he was right.
Dario would never find his way to jail.
Jessup, who’d succumbed to his injuries—taking a metal beam to the face would do that to you, even if it was wielded by an enraged brother who was pissed off that you’d hurt his sister—had been blamed for the occurrence at the circus.
There’d been plenty of witnesses who’d corroborated the story.
As far as the police were concerned, Dario was never a player in the game.
But that was okay.
I’d make sure I fixed that problem as soon as we were sure we’d gotten everything out of him that was possible.
“Oh, he’s so cute.” Crimson sighed. “You have to take him now. Put him back where he was. I need to go to sleep. I keep dreaming about the sweetest little twin boys ever, and it’s a great dream.”
Before I’d had the baby in my arms, she was nodding off again.
And my heart was pounding in my throat.
Was it possible that she was dreaming about my boys?
I couldn’t wait to ask her.
CHAPTER 22
I look better bent over.
-T-shirt
CRIMSON
Bleep. Bleep. Bleep.
I blinked owlishly at the door, surprised to see the brilliantly flashing light there.
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
No one answered me.
Why?
Because I’d finally convinced Winston to go to work today.
We’d been holed up in this apartment, both of us healing, for going on eight weeks now.
It was time to get back to life.
Or, at least, it was time for him to get back to his.
There would be no working for me for a while.
At least another six weeks, according to my orthopedist.
And now the goddamn fire alarms were going off.
Oh, and now that we’d moved into our new place, we were now on the thirty-seventh floor of a very secure, nobody is ever going to get into this building who Winston doesn’t want in here, high-rise.
Every single person in this building—including my family—was now very much vetted.
It was a strict, you have to know somebody to live here, kind of place. You also had to pass a few very strict tests that were required to be able to move in.
And here I was, in an almost full body cast, staring at the door in horror.
Because how in the ever-loving hell was I going to get down there?
My phone rang, and I answered it woodenly, knowing without a doubt that Winston was about to be very calm, and very icy toward me.
“Hello?”
There was a very long pregnant pause and then, “The fire alarm is going off.”
Oh, yeah. He was pissed.
The door banged loudly, and I winced.
“Who is it?” I asked carefully.
“Zip,” he answered, still just as icy. “She’s staring in horror at the elevator that is now shut down because you’re not allowed to operate an elevator in a high-rise during a fire.”
“Is it an actual fire?” I asked carefully.
“There’s a fire on the fourth floor,” he answered. “Laundry room. The entire thing is fully engulfed. They’re working on putting it out, but there’s a very high possibility that it’ll spread to the floors below and above it.”
Oh, boy.
I pressed the button on my watch—another concession that I’d made in order to get Winston out of the house this morning—and the door unlocked.
Zip ran inside, her eyes wild. “There’s a fire!”
I nodded.
“They turned off the elevator!” she cried out, just as horrified as I was.
“I know,” I said carefully.
She raised her hands and sifted them through her hair.
Her very short, very cute hair that was shaved on the sides and a cute little do on top.
It was so totally Zip.
“I’m going to go find someone. A firefighter.” She widened her eyes. “Oh! My new neighbor!”
Her new neighbor was actually still quite new to us. I knew Winston knew who he was, but no matter how much we asked, Winston wouldn’t give us any more information on him.
From what Folsom—who Winston had called and told not to give us anything—had given us before she’d been ordered not to, we knew that he was a man. He was tall. He was famous. And that was it.
