30. Neomi
“Fuck, are you sure it was Falco’s men?”
I’ve been lying in bed, listening to Lars talking to who I can only guess is Enzo in the living room. Something about Southside warehouses, fires, lost products. I only hear pieces, but I can put the puzzle together.
I shift under the sheets, my body still sore from how Lars ravished me when we returned home from the club. I love how he’s just as insatiable as I am. All I have to do is say the word or glance at him the right way and we tumble into intimacy.
Just as I sit up, he enters the room. When his eyes land on me, his shoulders soften. He sets his phone on the dresser and walks toward me. Black cotton pajama pants cling to his hips, exposing the V that leads downward.
He crawls onto the bed, making his way to me until he buries his face in the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along the column of my throat.
“Good morning, Bella.”
I hum as he places one last kiss below my jaw before straddling my lap. I run my hands down his pecs, savoring the feel of muscle under my fingertips.
“Good morning, Lover Boy. You’re taking business calls quite early.”
He nods. “My work rarely sleeps. You were out like a light last night.”
I lean back against the headboard. “You wore me out.” I laugh. “I had fun though.”
“I always have fun with you, Neomi,” he says, voice soft. “Come on, I just made coffee.”
He swings his leg over me and goes to the closet. I stand, raising my arms in a stretch. When Lars returns, he’s holding one of his dress shirts out to me. I take it from him, confused. “I have clothes, Lars.”
“I want you in mine.” He shrugs and places a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth before he turns to walk out of the room.
I make a stop in the bathroom, put on the shirt, brush my teeth, and then join him in the kitchen. When I approach the counter, his eyes scan my body slowly from head to toe, and my skin prickles at the attention.
I watch from the kitchen counter as Lars buttons his shirt. His hair’s still damp from the shower, but he looks composed. As if whatever waits for him beyond the walls of this space has already been assessed, categorized, and filed where it belongs.
It’s unsettling how easily he shifts.
Coffee steams between us. “I’ll be gone for a few hours,” he says, checking his watch. “Cash and Hale want to go over a few things in person.”
I nod, curling my hands around my mug. “I’m going to run errands. Groceries and the pharmacy. A few boring adult things.”
His gaze lifts to mine as he pauses. It’s as if he’s trying to calculate the risk while knowing he should be careful of what he says.
“Text me throughout the day, please,” he says.
“Okay.” I take a sip of my coffee. The need to declare my independence arises in me. “You don’t have to worry about me. You know I carry, and I’ve survived thirty-two years all on my own.”
He steps closer, presses a kiss to my forehead first, then to my mouth.
“I know how capable you are, Neomi.” He pulls back, looking into my eyes. “But your world and its threats are different now that you have my last name. Just promise me you’ll stay aware of your surroundings. No walking around with your head in your phone.”
His words sink into me. Worry fills his eyes, and I realize that my life changed the moment he slipped that ring on my hand.
“I appreciate how concerned you are, but I’ll be just fine,” I say, smiling.
I move through my errands quickly—pharmacy first, return a pair of pants, and now, the grocery store. The rhythm is familiar, offering a bit of normalcy. My cart makes a slight rattling sound as I push it down the aisle. The mental checklist running in the background.
I check out and walk to my car. As I’m loading bags into my trunk, something feels off. It’s the same feeling I had that night after the poker game. The sense of eyes concentrated on me. I straighten slowly, keys still in my hand, and glance toward the far end of the parking lot.
A dark sedan sits idling two rows over.
I tell myself it’s nothing. People wait in cars all the time. They’re probably waiting on someone or finishing a phone call.
Still, I note the plates. Out-of-state.
I close the trunk, return my cart, and slide into my car, locking the doors the second I’m inside. As I pull out of the parking lot, I check my mirrors.
The sedan is two cars behind me.
I make a right turn instead of the left that would have taken me straight to our building. The car follows.
My pulse spikes.
I take a series of turns through side streets, nothing erratic, but enough times to test my theory. The car stays with me, never too close, but never falling back far enough to lose sight.
I turn onto a busier road, hoping the traffic will allow me to lose them. It doesn’t. I speed up and they match it. I take a sudden exit into a residential neighborhood. The sedan follows without hesitation.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. My thoughts sharpen, edges smoothing into focus. This isn’t a random creep.
I tap my screen and tell Siri to text Lars.
I think I’m being followed.
I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I make my next move.
I punch the accelerator, taking a hard turn onto a narrow street lined with parked cars. I make two turns and drive toward the east side.
For a second, the sedan disappears.
Relief flares, but it dies just as fast when the car reappears in my rearview mirror, closer now. And this time, there’s a black SUV behind them.