by Zoey Parker
“Sorry. I…I’ve been sleeping most of the day,” I answered mostly honestly.
There was a pause. “Because of the baby?”
I blinked. For one crazy moment, I’d forgotten all about being pregnant. Nikolai had swamped my field of vision until he was the only thing in it. As a result, I hadn’t even thought to tell him—not that I thought he would really want to know—I was carrying his unborn child.
Would he want to know?
“Uh, no, not exactly,” I hedged. I felt my blood pounding through my head, rushing until my ears were nothing but drums of pressure. Lying wasn’t going to be a good idea, I could just tell. I let out a sigh. “Listen, about your offer—”
“Don’t tell me over the phone,” he hurriedly interrupted me. “I want to hear your answer in person. This is just too important not to, right?”
His eagerness made me wince, but I agreed that he deserved to hear it from me face to face. It was cowardly to tell him over the phone, wasn’t it? So I sighed and nodded, though, of course, he couldn’t see that part. “Yeah, I mean, you’re right. When did you want to meet?”
“I’ll come over right now. We can talk then. I’ll bring takeout.”
I felt a moment of panic. Now? I looked down at myself clutching the blanket, still sticky from dried sweat and, well, and other things that didn’t belong to me at all. I was sure I looked like a mess, and the apartment felt like it looked like it was a mess, even though really, I didn’t have enough stuff here with me to make it truly unkempt. Still, I knew if he walked through the door right this moment, he would see that I’d just had wild, passionate sex that was most definitely not with him.
I didn’t want to tell Shawn that I wouldn’t accept his proposal like that. It was rude and thoughtless; he deserved better.
“Now?” I repeated into the phone, my heart racing a little. I needed to get cleaned up at the very least. “I mean, the place is sort of a mess and—”
“Don’t worry. It’s me. A little mess has never bothered me before. I’ll pick up something from that sandwich place and we can—”
“Can you pick up Chinese instead?” I blurted. Honestly, part of it was that I really was having a craving, but really the reason that I wanted Chinese instead of sandwiches was simple: the Chinese place was twenty minutes out of the way and would give me enough time to at least shower before he got here.
I told myself it was because it wouldn’t be fair to tell him like that, but I knew it was because I was scared. Would he think less of me? He hadn’t yet, but telling him about Nikolai might be the last straw, and I just wasn’t ready to risk it. At least if I cleaned up, telling him about Nikolai wouldn’t necessarily mean I’d just had sex with him and that was why I hadn’t called him.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll get the orange chicken, right?”
He knew me so well and I felt a little sad that I wouldn’t be marrying my best friend after all, but one thought of Nikolai made me realize it was all for the best. I didn’t think of Shawn that way and was pretty sure I never would. “Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Great. Be there soon.”
We hung up and I wasted no time in rushing to the bathroom. At least I was already naked so I wouldn’t have to worry about taking the time to strip. I was under the spray in record time, scrubbing the scent of lovemaking from my skin, while simultaneously remembering how he’d touched me. Fiercely and possessively, like I was his and no one else’s.
The thought made me shiver.
When I got out of the shower smelling fresh and clean, I frowned at the blanket on the floor. Since it was a studio apartment, I didn’t have a washer and dryer. Instead, there were machines in the basement of the apartment complex. I wouldn’t have time to wash it, so I scooped it up and threw it on the bed in a heap. I decided we’d have to stay in the kitchen so he wouldn’t get suspicious. After getting dressed, I jerked the curtains closed to hide my bedroom and darted into the kitchen. I had one of those Swiffer things to help keep the hard floors clean in between moppings and I pulled it out now, quickly going over the entire space as though the evidence of what I’d just done was written across the floor. Maybe it was.
By the time I was putting it back up, there was a knock on the door. Shawn.
Taking a deep breath, I went to the door and opened it. He stood there holding up two bags full of Chinese takeout cartons. His smile was bright, confident even, and it made mine shaky at best.
“Come in,” I told him, standing back so he could do so.
He went directly to the counter to deposit the bags of food. Then he started pulling out containers, talking to me as he did so. “I got orange chicken like you like and some dumplings. There’s chow mein and stir fried rice, but no chicken in that, ’cause I know how you feel about chicken fried rice.”
I let him ramble for a bit until all the food was placed on the counter. He went to the cupboards to grab some plates then started dishing everything out. As I watched him, I realized what an awful person I was. Here was my best friend doing everything he could just to make me happy and make sure I was healthy, and what was I doing? Sleeping around with some guy who probably didn’t care about me in the slightest.
Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I worried on it for a moment as I thought it over. I was going to have to tell him. And not just about the engagement—or lack thereof.
“Shawn,” I began hesitantly, trying to gather my courage before continuing. “Shawn, stop. I…we really need to talk. Now.”
He stopped instantly. He could probably already sense it in my tone, but I tried to remind myself that it was okay. Everything would be okay. He turned to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down into a frown. He was a nice guy, one of the good ones I was sure, but…well, he could be a little judgmental about things like this. I reminded myself that he’d stood by me when he learned I was pregnant, even stepping up to the plate, and that this would be no different. We’d still be friends after I told him the truth.
Even so, the words stuck to the roof of my mouth like thick, pasty oatmeal. After several tries, I got it out. “I can’t marry you.” Shawn looked ready to mount an offensive, some sort of argument to convince me otherwise, but I hurried on before he could change his mind. “You’re such a good guy and you deserve so much better. I just can’t do that to you.”
“Madeline, I…” His expression had turned tender, telling me he wasn’t understanding what I was talking about.
I knew I’d have to tell him what happened. Sucking in a harsh breath, I spit it out. “I slept with Nikolai.”
He froze. I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing anymore. He stared at me with those huge brown eyes, almost not seeing me at all. Then he blinked and let out a rush of air through his clenched teeth. A moment later, he asked dumbly, “Who?”
“Nikolai,” I told him carefully, knowing how this was going to go over. “The…the baby’s father. I…I don’t know what happened.” Which was not entirely the truth, but sort of. I hadn’t intended for that to happen, though I enjoyed it enough to know that I would let it happen again in a heartbeat. “He was here and I was…It did happen, Shawn. It happened and you deserve better.”
I sat heavily on one of the stools at the counter, feeling miserable. I didn’t want to lose Shawn as a friend and I felt awful after everything that had happened. It was supposed to be us against the world, but I had a feeling that after my admission, that was no longer the case.
Then he surprised me. “Are you telling me no because…well, because you guys are together now?”
I stiffened. Together? Well, we’d slept together a total of four times, but I’d left knowing that he didn’t want anything like that the first time and he’d left the second time before I could even attempt to decipher anything. I hesitated, then decided honesty was all I had to offer as confusing as it might be. “Um, no. I mean, not really, he just…” Just what? Stormed in, tore off my clothes and devoured my body until I felt like
I was crumbling in ecstasy beneath him? No, I definitely couldn’t say that, so I tried again. “He’s gone and I don’t even have a number. I…he probably won’t be back.”
Of course I’d thought I wouldn’t see him again after the first time, too, so some part of me hoped I would be wrong again.
Shawn processed this information, then seemed to make a decision. Leveling his gaze on me, he said, “Then I don’t care.”
My eyes widened at his words. What?
“I don’t care, because you’re all I’ve ever wanted, Madeline. So, if you’re not already with this guy, I want a chance.” His eyes smoldered with passion and ferocity as he said this, intensity I was definitely not used to from him.
“You…?” But I didn’t even know what to say.
He took a deep breath, looked me in the eye, and said, “I’m in love with you, Madeline. I have been forever. I don’t care about anything else but that.” He took my hands in his, holding them tightly, as though he could make me feel his love through that simple touch. Unfortunately, I felt nothing. Just the warm pressure of his hands, which was barely anything at all. It was nothing like how I felt when Nikolai was just in the same room as me.
Gently, I pulled my hands back. I shook my head. “I…I had no idea, but, Shawn…this isn’t right. You should be with someone who feels that way about you, too, and, well, we’ve just been friends for so long and—”
He took my hands again, sparking a quick annoyance in me that died nearly as fast. “Yeah, but that’s because you’ve only looked at me like a friend. Now you know how I feel and you can think about me in other ways, too. Especially now that you’ve—” He broke off abruptly, his cheeks going red. I thought it was in embarrassment, but then I saw a flash of anger.
I bit my lip, then said, “I just don’t know, Shawn.”
He shook his head. “I do. This Nikolai guy isn’t going to stick around and you need a husband. That’ll be me and the rest will come with time. It’ll be okay, Madeline.”
I wasn’t convinced, but didn’t argue further. I didn’t know how to make him understand what I could feel in my heart: I was never going to love him like that.
Chapter 14
Nikolai
Hours Earlier
I arrived at the club before it closed. There wasn’t a lot of time left, last call was at two, but I still had a half an hour or so. Plenty of time. Sliding out of my car, I headed towards the bar, making sure my gun was tucked beneath my jacket and concealed, but easy to reach. Peter wouldn’t have an issue with me having the gun, but some of the people who worked there and visited often maybe didn’t understand who really ran the bar. They wouldn’t be too happy with having a loaded gun in the place, though I knew without asking that there was a shotgun beneath the counter and a pistol in the drawer where Peter would tend that evening.
As soon as I walked in, I spotted Peter. He was cleaning glasses as several tossed men, looking miserable and happily so, nursed the remnants of whatever they’d been drinking for most of that night.
I locked eyes with him and his expression turned grave. He knew exactly what I did for a living and knew what the consequences of his call to me had been. He’d effectively sentenced a man to death, and that probably wasn’t sitting really well with him just then. Sure, Peter was a tough guy and knew there were certain things that came with the territory of essentially being run by Mickey. Getting rid of rats happened to be one of those things.
Still, he wasn’t the kind of guy who appreciated that sort of vigilante, eye for an eye type of justice. He still had some hope in the judiciary branch of government, though it was waning with each passing month.
After a minute of unspoken communication between the two of us, he jerked his head towards the opposite corner of the bar, then broke eye contact with me. He went back to cleaning glasses, acting as though I was just another customer or maybe no one at all. He was good about being calm like that.
I took his hint and scanned the bar quickly and efficiently as I shoved my hands into my pockets, casually walking farther into the dimly lit room. There were still a few brave souls clinging to each other on the dance floor, trying to hold each other up and swaying gently to the music, which had become quiet and soft, unlike the electronica business that would have been playing earlier. Beyond them were tables that lined the walls. Booths, mostly, with plain black leather seats and dark wood tables that weren’t shiny enough to reflect the strobe lights that bounced around earlier in the evening. Most of them were empty at this point as last call would be coming very soon, but there were one or two still occupied.
Sitting at one of these tables was a young man with light, honey colored blond hair and blue eyes that were watered down, dulled by alcohol and maybe some form of drug. He was relatively somber, though there was a ghost of a smile lingering on his youthful features.
Logan King.
I recognized him instantly and began to make my way carefully across the room towards the table. I didn’t know if he knew there was a price on his head—he’d be the biggest moron on the planet if he thought there wasn’t—so I didn’t want to spook him by being obvious.
As I got closer, I noticed there was another man sitting across from him. Young also, he had dishwater brown hair and a slightly tan skin, though not like he’d seen the sun frequently. Instead, it was more like he was naturally tan and because he hadn’t seen the sun much lately, he was actually kind of dusky and paler than he should be.
A friend? I wondered silently. Or a business associate.
As far as I knew, Logan had pulled his stunt alone, but it wasn’t beyond reason to think he’d had a partner in the crime. In fact, it was more likely than anything else. He didn’t seem handy enough or clever enough to have pulled the heist off on his own. A partner would have given him some help both in dispatching with Mickey’s man and with hauling the money to the van. Still, Mickey hadn’t mentioned a second man. There was a chance he was uninvolved completely, just an unwitting friend sitting across from a dead man.
I frowned. I didn’t like that.
If this guy was merely a friend and not an accomplice, then he was innocent, more or less. Sure, he’d probably done something to earn him some hard licks here and there, but chances were he hadn’t done anything to warrant execution. And I didn’t like executing the undeserving.
Which was why I slid into the booth right behind them and flagged down a waitress, instead of going straight to their table. I wanted to listen a little bit and I wanted more information before making a move.
“Vodka, neat,” I told the waitress who smiled flirtatiously at me before disappearing back to the bar for my drink. My mind flickered back to Madeline, how I’d left her naked and sore on the floor, thoroughly fucked. How I’d made her mine, because she was mine.
I shook my head, forcing the memories away. I couldn’t think about her and my job at the same time. That was too dangerous.
Digging into the pocket of my slacks, I found my phone and dragged it out. Mickey wasn’t one to text, but I wasn’t comfortable calling him. If I had to do too much talking, it might tip off Logan and I wouldn’t risk that. The boy had become a thorn in my side and I wasn’t about to lose my first real shot at him just for the sake of the moron sitting across from him.
So I texted the question, careful of my wording. That new employee of yours bring a friend along for the job?
Then I waited, listening casually to the conversation behind me.
“…huge tits!” Judging by the way the sound came to me, that sounded like Logan. Both of them laughed at whatever joke he’d just told about a woman’s chest.
“Man, who knew money would go so far?” commented a second voice, his friend.
“I’m telling you, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean, I couldn’t even fit those knockers in my hands!”
I frowned, considering his words and what they might mean. I was inclined to think it was about the stolen money as opposed to any
thing he’d earned lately. But it didn’t tell me whether or not his friend was in on it, so I continued to listen. Maybe they would let something drop, or tell me where they’d been. Maybe even tell me where the money was.
“Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
I stiffened. That was the friend. Was he talking about the job? Or something else. I waited for them to continue, but then I received a reply text message from Mickey. Yes. I want that roach fired, too.
And that told me everything. Whatever Logan had done, this friend had been privy to it. I didn’t know why Mickey hadn’t told me about it earlier—probably he was either more concerned with the money or with Logan, or he simply hadn’t known who the other kid was at the time—but knew it didn’t matter. My fee would go up, Mickey knew that, and he’d still made the call.
I was here to “fire” them both now.
The waitress came back with my drink and placed it down on a napkin. One that I noticed had scrawling handwriting on it leaving a name—Roxy—and a number. I ignored it and took a sip of my drink. I didn’t want to be inebriated, as I needed to keep my wits about me, but I also needed to blend.