Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
RACHEL
The baby’s fussing wakes me. I frown when I see that I’m still alone in our bed.
Sasha has been working late into the night several days this week, body-guarding C.
I push the covers back to get up, but then go still when I hear Sasha’s voice through the baby monitor, speaking to Irina in Russian. I smile.
It took months for him to feel comfortable enough to be a hands-on dad.
In the beginning when she was so small, he couldn’t be persuaded to pick her up by himself.
I blame the nurses on the Labor & Delivery ward.
At the hospital, the nurses looked at my gigantic rough-looking husband with his scars and perpetual scowl and grew very concerned.
On the day she was born, they talked sternly to us about how fragile the baby was with her wafer thin skull bones that hadn’t completely come together yet to protect her precious little brain.
This news hit Sasha as the most dire warning imaginable.
On the drive home, he took only surface streets and drove more slowly than I’ve ever seen. Revisiting the issue of her delicate unfused bones, he murmured in frustration, “It’s a bad design. No protection for the most vital organ? Fucking dangerous. Nature could’ve done better.”
Over the early weeks, nothing I said could persuade him to pick her up himself.
Instead he would get situated in a chair with padded arms and would have me place Irina in the crook of his arm like it was a cradle.
Then he proceeded to not move. He would look at her and speak to her gently, and then, when it was time to move her, he insisted I be the one to do it.
“Bones like egg shells,” he said, continuing to guard her so fiercely it bordered on crazy.
He didn’t like to see her jostled or jarred.
Car rides were approached like presidential motorcades, except rather than just security being considered, particular routes were chosen by the smoothness of the roads and lack of congestion.
I worried she wouldn’t bond with him as well with such limited and careful contact, so I started a nightly routine for all three of us.
Before we put her to bed, I curled up on his lap with the baby in my arms and leaned us both against his chest. She quickly got into the habit of putting a little ear against his chest to listen to his voice as it reverberated through his body while he was talking or reading aloud.
When all three of us were curled up together, Irina seemed to settle down faster, so Sasha moved a big leather chair and ottoman into the nursery.
Every night, he’d kick back in that chair with us cuddled under a soft blanket on his lap and his left arm around us.
Then he read her bedtime stories out loud.
It was perfect and sweet and eventually paved the way for more.
We both noticed she likes his voice. Anytime he comes into a room to speak to me, her little brows wrinkle with fascination, and her eyes follow him.
He began to sit near her and direct more conversation to her.
In turn, she did all the irresistible things babies do, smiling, making excited noises, and reaching.
That’s what got him in the end. Her holding out her arms for him to pick her up was something he finally couldn’t resist. One day as I started to walk over to help, he held out a hand for me to wait and then unstrapped her from her protective seat and lifted her out of it.
From then on, he carried her around the house constantly when he was home.
Sometimes on Sundays, she spends about ninety percent of the day six feet above the ground, like a baby bird in a nest atop a tree. This arrangement seems to suit them both.
He’s still cautious when carrying her, never approaching the stovetop or oven when they’re in use.
He also never wants to give her a bath lest she slip from his hands and bump her precious head.
Otherwise though, when he’s home, she’s his constant companion until she’s safely asleep in her baby bed.
I love how much he loves her and how content she is when he’s got her. Which is why at one am, instead of getting up, I curl into the pillows and go back to sleep.
ANVIL
It’s nearly three am, and I’d like to punch Trick in the face.
The birth of his kid is still months away and instead of taking his share of late nights, he’s at home asleep.
He says that, as always, he’s available for emergencies and any high priority situation, but his days of covering C on a routine night out are over.
I don’t give a shit how many hours a day Trick spends on the computer working for C Crue or that he’s newly married. He’s not the only one with a beautiful wife who waits for her man to come home.
When I make noises about wanting to rotate nights, Trick names three guys he thinks are competent to fill out the rotation.
His own fucking name isn’t on the list. I say the guys he’s nominated aren’t acceptable as solo cover for C at night, since more violence goes down after dark.
Trick shrugs it off and says to put two crue guys on C on the nights I’m not available.
Trick’s flippant about it, which makes me wonder if this is an angle he’s working to get me to put pressure on C to go after Zoe.
That won’t work. I will never bring Zoe up to C.
Whether he works things out with her or moves on to someone else is none of my business.
Since Coins doesn’t have as much action as C wants these days, we’ve hit Boston twice in the past week.
An hour drive each way to visit clubs with flashing lights and ear-splitting music is not my idea of a good time.
One of the nights he picked up a woman, and I ended up killing time in a hotel hallway while he fucked her.
C suggested we stay over, but I declined to get a room.
That would’ve led to him going all night with the girl, and I wouldn’t have made it home at all.
C’s not as wired as Trick was when he was single, but it’s not far off. I can’t hear Zoe’s name from Raven without feeling the urge to tell Zoe to get her ass back to C’s unless she’s sure this bullshit isn’t a waste of time.
I enter my bedroom and Raven’s asleep, as she has been the past three nights when I’ve gotten home.
I’m tired, but I’ve already decided I’m not going another day without touching her.
Pulling the covers back, I draw in a slow breath.
Her nightgown is black satin and because it’s short, I can see the matching panties. Fuck. My cock’s a lead pipe instantly.
I drop my suit coat on the floor and remove all the metal from my body.
Watch, cellphone, keys, cuff links, gun, knife, everything goes onto the nightstand.
I turn the volume of the baby monitor down to low.
My Irina’s a good sleeper now, but just in case she wakes, this will give us a little more time.
I toe my shoes off and then get in bed. The rest of the clothes can come off after I’ve had a chance to touch her.
My approach strikes me as illicit. She’s so exquisite, like a porcelain doll lying against dark satin packaging. This reminds me of the way I once watched her and what that watching eventually led to…a kidnapping, a cabin in the woods.
Without a second thought, I grab my knife and open it. I lift the satin string that’s lying against her left hip and cut it. A little tug on the fabric pulls the other string that’s mostly under her into view. The blade slices through that too.
Closing the knife, I watch her. I return the blade quietly to the nightstand and then pull the back of her underwear. The fabric slides slowly from between her legs, and I toss it to the floor.
I move her onto her back, and she stirs a little. Moving the nightgown up exposes her stomach, and lower. Her pussy’s been shaved recently, so she’s perfectly smooth and soft under my fingers as they delve between her lips. The moisture’s faint, delicately coating her hidden places.
When I rub her clit, she stirs again and then shudders, startled as she struggles to wake up. My left hand’s between her legs, and I leave it there. When she makes a noise of confusion, I cover her mouth with my right hand.
“Quiet, Raven.”
Her eyes open wide, probably struggling to adjust to the room’s lack of light. After a couple seconds of disorientation, she can tell it’s me. She knows my voice and what my hands feel like on her body.
“Spread your legs,” I order.
She shivers and slowly obeys. Does she wonder how she ended up naked from the waist down? My hand is still over her pretty mouth, so I can feel the choppy breaths from her nose.
Two fingers push into her pussy. Even though she’s had my baby, she’s tight around them.
“Not a sound,” I say, and then wait for her to acknowledge what I’ve said.
There’s a small nod from her, and her beautiful eyes still hold a note of surprise.
I remove my left hand first, and then take my right away from her face.
She starts to move, but I shake my head.
“I didn’t say you could move. Lie still, and keep those legs spread.”
Raven watches me intently, licking her lower lip with a trace of nervousness.
I take the knife from the nightstand and open it. Her intake of breath is as sharp as the blade.
I’ve cut clothes from her body once before, and I’m sure she’s remembering that now.
Raven was the innocent virgin daughter of my enemy, and I was so obsessed with her that there came a time when I couldn’t stand not having her.
I took her to a safe house, locked a collar around her throat and used it to chain her to the wall.
She was my captive. There’s always been a darkness to our love. It lies hidden beneath the surface.