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“I make the rules.”
“I can’t let you fuck this up.” I swallow down the worry of getting him involved because we’re out of options, and I need to make sure that if shit goes down, we’re fucking covered. “I need you at your best.”
He sighs the last of his bullshit attitude away. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that I’m calling you.”
“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
Fuck. “Do you remember what happened last time you didn’t follow the rules?”
He says nothing, but I sense his guilt. And unlike what Ryan thinks, Cameron deserves to live with it.
“I do.” I answer my own question when he fails to. “It can’t happen again, especially not with my family. You get that?”
“Your family,” Cameron murmurs as though he’s trying the weight of the responsibility on for good measure.
“I have the Russian mafia and…and every other motherfucker after my girls, and I need to make sure nothing touches them.”
“Your girls.”
“Yes. My girls.” My eyes flick to the movement in the kitchen doorway. I wonder immediately if she heard me. “I’ll send you coordinates. Be there tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’m doing it because it’s you.”
“I know.”
“Because I owe you for saving my neck.” Ironically it was Fleur’s father that swept all the shit that happened with him under the rug as the promoted Chief of Defence to the Foreign Secretary.
Fleur wanders over to me, perching herself on the table with a huffy groan. Taking the daisy I’m still holding from me and twirling it, she starts picking the petals off one-by-one.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, Deadshot.”
Putting the phone down, I slide her in front of me just as she picks the last petal.
“He loves me…not,” she sighs, blowing it at me. “Story of my life.”
“You realise that’s all a fad?” I take the stalk from her and throw it on the table next to her.
“Do you love me, then?” Her eyes widen on me, and my heart that’s remained steady and controlled picks up its pace.
Her hands rest on my shoulders with a nervous laugh when I don’t reply. “Relax, big man, I’m teasing you.”
Her eyes drop to her belly, a soft, sad smile shadowing her pretty face. And I can’t bear it.
“I don’t hate you.” The rhythm of my heart stutters as I mould my hands to her belly and the little girl inside wriggles.
I love them. I love them enough to hold back and put them ahead of all my wants and needs. I love them enough that I would rather let them go than live in a world where they hurt.
“I suppose that from you that’s as good as love.” Fleur’s sad smile tips into a grin with a roll of her eyes.
“There you go.” I allow her to have that one small seed to nurture in her heart with the hope that maybe one day she’ll know the full extent of my truth.
Standing, I pull her up into my arms so I can carry her back to bed. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I got cold.” It’s her way of saying she’s lonely or that she’s spooked by the silence and the dark. “You haven’t slept properly since Arabella visited.”
