Page 89
Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t ask him outright, because I had a feeling the asshole would deny the accusation.
My thoughts drifted as I stared into the expanse of Vancouver until my breathing settled, bracing my hands on the small table beneath the windows. The vibrant colors swayed in the trees below in a mesmerizing dance, and for a moment, I felt a tiny bit of peace.
Yet all sense of peace drained from my body, replaced with a heaping flood of adrenaline as a chess piece toppled across the table.
My eyes snapped to the board, time coming to a standstill. The answer to my question shouted in my mind with such certainty, my heart stopped beating altogether.
A white queen was missing.
22
MANIC
I fucking hated kids.
I hated their sticky fingers and drool and useless babble that meant nothing. Just the thought of something so tiny running around made my skin crawl. I’d hardly been able to deal with Naomi when she’d been a baby, and yet the thought of filling Sutton with my spawn made my dick unbearably hard.
Even as Axell stood at the kitchen island, fully decked in his gear with a gun at his side, I fought the urge to storm into the bathroom and bend her over the counter.
I knew when her period was—locked in my phone like a morbid monthly anniversary—so the chance of having a kid with her now was slim to none.
Was that a weird thing to know? Maybe.
But if she was worried about getting pregnant, I’d get her whatever she wanted.
A day-after pill. Birth control. Whatever.
In fact, the second I sealed Sutton in my room, I’d placed a delivery for a few day-after pills and five different types of birth control. If she thought us fucking was a one time thing, she was in for a rude awakening. And it would be her cunt squeezing the life out of my cock until we were both aching and bruised.
“Are you even listening to me?” Axell asked with a small twist to his mouth, like he was entirely too amused at my current situation. He wore black cargo pants and a fitted shirt beneath a leather jacket, his short brown hair swept back.
Despite wanting to claw his eyes out for seeing Sutton with no pants on, I heeded her advice and decided not to kill him. This time. I pinned him with a glare, a muscle jumping in my jaw.
“Shut up,” I clipped, and then sighed. “I’m listening.”
I wasn’t, but he knew that already, because he smothered his shit-eating grin and explained the details of our upcoming shipment a second time.
“Tonight at the casino docks,” he said, “we’re to make sure the shipment gets unloaded and be on our guard for any Irish lurking around. Not sure how they’re figuring out our shipments, but Ronan ordered at least ten more Crowes just in case.”
“How big is the shipment?”
“Not too large, from what I was told. Only a few crates, but our usual order. After what happened the last time, I think our cartel is wary of them being stolen again.”
I nodded as the elevator opened again, Vince turning the corner a second later with a small plastic bag. His brow arched, amusement dancing in his eyes, and I knew the fucker had looked inside.
Vince held up the bag and opened his mouth.
“Say a fucking word, and I’ll hit you,” I clipped, cutting him off, and then snatched the bag on his approach. Vince cleared his throat, holding back a smile.
“Wouldn’t dare to,” he said.
“Get out, and I’ll see you both tonight,” I ordered.
After they left, I entered my bedroom with the pill tucked between my fingers, her clothes in my other hand. Wrapped in a towel, Sutton stood in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, hair damp. She looked over at the sound of my footsteps and stilled, her knuckles whitening around the fibers of her towel.
Nervous or scared?
It was hard to tell as her expression blanked.
