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“Oh!” Lakeshia’s eyes widen before she shakes her head. “I’m not, so nothing to be concerned about.”
Disappointment burst inside my chest, but the harder I peer at her, the more she avoids meeting my gaze. She wouldn’t lie about something this important would she? Of course not. Especially not after being vulnerable and admitting she wants and needs me and Takeshi. As much as I’d like to explore why she’s shying away from me, Katsuo opening the envelope and spreading pictures onto his desk trumps my needs.
“Oh!” Lakeshia gasps, before covering her shock and wiping all emotion from her face.
Lying in front of us are pictures of three of Takeshi’s wakagashira-hosas with their throats slit and the word bugiardo carved on their foreheads. They’re the men my husband assigned to guard Katsuo while we handle Lakeshia’s revenge.
“Tomasso knows we have her.” Katsuo leans into his chair. “Do I need to step in and handle things?” He pierces Lakeshia with a glare. “Because if I do, you may not like the outcome.”
Takeshi stands in front of her, and I step to his side. We stand in solidarity, but Lakeshia wouldn’t be who she is if she didn’t sidestep us to also position herself by our side.
I take her hand and squeeze, imbuing the action with all the silent support I can in the face of Katsuo’s calm. “We know how to protect?—”
“This is no longer about her little feud with Tomasso. He’s dragging me in, making it my business.” Katsuo rises and slowly circles his desk.
Our boss is at his most deadly when he plots revenge.
“I want him taken care of now.”
“We were in the middle of planning our first assault when you phoned. We now have his entire operation mapped, and we’ve identified his closest associates,” Takeshi says, his body as tense as mine.
“You have five days.” He glares at each of us in turn. “Don’t be subtle. Reward his disdain with the energy he deserves.” Katsuo passes by us, his gaze lingering on Lakeshia before he walks out the door.
Lakeshia exhales a shaky breath while Takeshi and I exchange glances.
“We’ve got a lot to do in five days,” I say.
“I’ll make some calls when we get to the house.” Takeshi rounds on Lakeshia and cups her shoulders to stare into her face. “Chiisai senshi no megami, were you being honest with Katsuo?”
Of course, my husband would notice the slightest hesitation in her response to his cousin.
She shrugs him off. “Of course. Do you need me to take a test?”
I take her hands in mine. “It wouldn’t hurt. You haven’t had your period since you came to live with us.”
Lakeshia laughs, reversing my hold to pat me on my hands. “You wouldn’t have noticed because I wore a disc. Sex without the mess.”
For the second time, disappointment fills me, and it’s reflected in Takeshi’s slightly slumped shoulders.
“So, we should probably head back to the house. We have some planning to do! Imagine, in five days, I finally get to hit Tomasso where it hurts.” Lakeshia almost bounces out the door while Takeshi and I follow more sedately.
Try as I might, I can’t silence the voice in my head wishing she were pregnant.
Chaos. Every day since Katsuo’s command has been filled with turmoil. Considering it’s in my nature to wreak havoc, I should be in my element. Nonetheless, I’m not. It’s been two days since Lakeshia’s admission, and I’m still fighting my reaction to hearing she isn’t pregnant.
I should focus on the positive like we’ll have more opportunities. Because spending my nights fucking her and Takeshi is the highlight of my day. And after telling her she’s more than a womb, I shouldn’t be this affected. Yet I am.
“Shinji?” Lakeshia’s voice reflects the concern furrowing her brow.
I pull her to my waist and kiss the top of her ear, but the action doesn’t clear the creases from her forehead.
We’re on a shopping trip, though not a conventional one. While Takeshi handles the logistics of hitting a dozen strongholds at once, Lakeshia and I wait for our arms supplier, Evan, to reappear after asking us to wait when we first showed up. The building we’re in lies on the outskirts of Serenidad in a strip mall. A musty odor with an underlying scent of gun oil pervades the space.
“If you’re worried about being out in the open, let’s return to the house,” Lakeshia says.
“I’m not,” I assure her. “And we aren’t leaving before upgrading your arsenal. Your guns and knives are okay for defending yourself, but we’re going on the offensive.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have enough weapons for little old me.” She bats her lashes, surprising a laugh out of me.
