“I hate this, but okay,” she agrees reluctantly.

I hate that she is being forced to change her life while whoever is doing this is out there living normally and probably getting off on her being afraid. But I’m stuck. I cant risk something happing to her.

I kiss her forehead again then try to make her forget about everything by turning off the oven and carrying her upstairs, where I make love to her until we both fall asleep.

“Aim to kill, baby,” I tell Sophie as I wrap my arms around her and help her line up the shot. “I want you to take a deep breath, and when you let it out, I want you to squeeze the trigger, not pull it.”

“Got it,” she says shakily.

I listen as she takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Her hand steadies, and she lets off three rounds, one after another, all hitting near the center of the target. Her aim is nearly perfect for someone who has never even held a gun until today. I hit the button, bringing the target closer so she can she what she did.

“You’re a natural,” I tell her with pride etching my voice.

“Really?” she asks, setting the gun down before turning to me.

“Really. Look at what you did. All three of your rounds are near the center of the bull’s-eye.”

“This is kinda fun.” She laughs, and suddenly her eyes go wide and she grabs my hand, pulling it to her stomach.

“What?” I ask in a panic, and then I feel the slight movement under my palm. I immediately fall to my knees in front of her, both hands holding her stomach. “Holy shit,” I choke out, looking up into Sophie’s beautiful, glowing face then back down to where my tattooed hands are in stark contrast to her white maternity dress.

“I know,” she whispers, dragging my hands around her stomach so I can feel the baby moving. “The shooting must’ve woken her up.”

I nod then shake my head. I never thought this would be something I would experience. I look up at her again, seeing her beaming down at me. Her hair is braided back away from her makeup-free face, but little pieces have come loose and are flying around her in the wind.

“Can I shoot again?” she asks, making me laugh.

“I was having a moment…and you want to shoot?”

“Well, it was fun.”

I shake my head and kiss her belly once before standing. “All right. This time, I want you to aim at the head.”

“I can do that,” she says with confidence, giving me an instant hard-on.

She refused to get a gun at first…until she saw a white Ruger LCP .380 with pink flowers all over it. I almost refused to let her get it—no gun should have flowers on it—but I figured that, if she was carrying it and it could kill someone if she was in danger, I didn’t care what it looked like.

I press the button on the machine, sending the target back out. I put my arms around her again, this time resting on her belly. With every shot, she makes the baby move inside her, making her laugh and miss the target the first three times. I reload her gun, giving her advice on how to focus before sending a new target out with instructions that I want two in the head and three in the heart. This time, she focuses and hits her target with ease.

“You’re a pro.”

“Really?”

“Really, baby.” I kiss her temple. Knowing that she can shoot has some of my stress easing.

“Maybe when the baby gets here, I can work for you.”

“That’s never gonna happen.” I have a friend who works with his woman, but I can’t imagine having Sophie with me on a job. I wouldn’t be able to focus.

“I could be your backup.”

“Not happening,” I state.

“Aww, come on. You said I was a great shot. I could dress like a ninja. I would be like your secret weapon. People would be like, ‘Oh, we got Nico,’ and then I would show up and take them out,” she says, doing a strange-looking karate chop.

“As entertaining as that would be, it’s still not happening.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll give up my dream.” She sighs, making me laugh.

I take her hand and make our way out to my car. After I get her in the passenger’s seat, I jog around and hop behind the wheel.

“How you feeling?” I drive out of the parking lot before taking her hand in mine and pulling it to my mouth.

“Okay. Just tired.”

“I want you to ask the doctor if he has any suggestions for that.”

“Sleep.” She laughs.

“Very funny, smartass, I’m serious though.”

“I know you are.” I hear the humor in her voice, and it makes me smile.

“It’s the doctor’s job to answer questions,” I remind her.

“Yes, but when you call him at midnight to ask him if it’s normal for me to have heartburn, I think that may be overkill.”

“He told me to call if I had any questions. Besides, you ate a whole container of Tums in one night”—I look over at her—“like they were candy.”

“Don’t remind me. That was not one of my crowning moments.” She laughs. Then her voice goes quiet. “I can’t believe you won’t be here for my appointment.”

“Sorry, babe.” I hear the regret in my own voice. I hate not being able to go with her, but after this job, I’ll be taking some time off until the baby gets here.

In reality, the more I think about leaving Sophie and the baby after he or she gets here, the more I start hating my job. Leo told me the other day that they have a couple of spots opening up in his department. He could get me in if I wanted. My first thought was no, but then he explained that their captain lets them do their own thing as long as they’re closing cases. Knowing that, if I took the job, I would no longer be going out of town and leaving her alone made me think harder about it. I want and need that. I hate the idea of her being home alone with a new baby. Yes, my family will be around, but it’s not the same. I never want to miss out on important occasions with my family.

“Mom’s gonna go with you so you won’t be alone.”

“I know, but it’s not the same,” she says, repeating my thought. It’s crazy to think how much my life has changed since I first laid eyes on her.

“I know it’s not.”

We drive the rest of the way home in silence. When we reach the house, I pull into the garage and help Sophie out of the car before heading to the mailbox.

“Nico,” Deb calls from two houses away, where she’s outside watering her lawn.

I lift my chin then shake my head at her. I don’t know how her husband puts up with her shit, but he’s a better man than I am. If I ever found out that Sophie was outside watering the lawn and wearing practically nothing, I would go postal.

“Hi, Deb,” Sophie calls, waving at Deb, who gives a small wave back. She presses her tits into my arm before sticking her hand in my back pocket, leaning deeper into me.

I bite my cheek to keep from smiling. It’s cute that she’s protective, but she never has anything to worry about.

“Did we get anything good?” she asks innocently, looking at the stack of letters in my hand.

I shuffle through the mail then stop when I come across the letter Sophie has been waiting for. In a way, I’m glad she’s here as I’m checking the mail. If I were on my own, I don’t know if I would have given her the letter. Yes, I want her to work through her past, but it’s engrained in me to protect her from anything that might potentially cause her pain.

“He wrote back,” she whispers, looking from the letter to my eyes.

I put all the mail in one hand before cupping her cheek with the other. “You don’t have to read it right now. You never have to read it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” She swallows, leaning her head deeper into my hand. “You’re right. I need to see what he has to say so I can put it all behind me. I don’t want this hanging over my head anymore, and I don’t want to worry about it when the baby gets here.”

“So we read it then burn it, making it history.”

She nods, not saying anything.

Running my thumb over her jaw, I lean in and kiss her once before tucking her under my arm to lead her inside. Once I get Sophie situated out on the back patio with a glass of tea, I go get a lighter and my metal trash can from the garage and take them out with me. I hand her the letter before pulling her onto my lap. Her hands start to shake as she rips the envelope open, and I watch as she pulls the letter out, unfolding it.

Dear Sophie,

I don’t even know where to start. I got the letter from Nico after I tried to phone you. I understand why you didn’t want to talk to me, but I wish I could hear your voice. Maybe one day, we can talk and I can hear for myself that you are well and happy. I know from your boyfriend that you have become successful and are leading a life that would make your mother proud. She was always proud of you. You were the most important thing in her life, and I know her death was hard on you. I wish I could explain to you the reasons I did what I did, but there is no excuse that will justify my actions and the way I neglected you when you needed me. Your mom would hate me if she knew what happened after her death. I regret few things in my life, but my treatment of you is something I will regret until the day I die. I'm sorry.

I know it would be nearly impossible for you to forgive me, but if you could find it in yourself to offer me a few words every now and then, I would enjoy that. Your boyfriend is very different from anyone I thought you would end up with, but he seems to love you and to be very protective, and even though it's not my right as your father, I couldn't ask for more. Your mother would have been thrilled that you found someone who obviously loves you so deeply. I love you, Sophie. I know I didn’t show it when I should have, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about you and the woman you have become. I wish I could have been a better father to you. I just didn’t know how to do that after your mom died. I’m so sorry.

I hope this letter finds you happy.

Love,

Dad

I pull a sobbing Sophie into my chest, rocking her back and forth like a child, trying to offer her some comfort. After reading that letter, I hope she will be able to find some closure.

“I got you, babe,” I shush her, rubbing her back.

When the sobs racking her body start to die down, I pull her face out of my chest, taking a second to look at her. Even with her face splotchy with tears, she’s beautiful.

“I know that was difficult, but how are you feeling?”

“Torn,” she says quietly, grabbing my wrist. “I feel like I want to talk to him. He’s the only connection I have to my mom. I feel sad that it took him so long to realize what he had, and the other part of me hates him for not being there for me when I needed him. That’s the part I don’t like. I don’t want to hate him. My mom loved him. They were so in love that, even as young as I was, I could see their love was the kind that would never die. When I was young, my dad would come home from work and walk into the house, and the first thing he would do was go to my mom and kiss her, even if I was waiting by the door for him. Then he would come and pick me up.” I don’t tell her that that’s f**ked up. Our kids will be just as important as her. “When my mom died, I felt like my connection with him died too.” Yep, totally f**ked up. “I think I need time to think about this.”

“You have all the time you need.”

“Thank you for being here with me.” She does a face-plant back into my chest, making me smile.

“Nowhere else I would want to be.”

“Do you remember when I told you I used to want a tattoo?” she asks quietly.

“Yes.” I run my hand down her back, holding her tighter against me.

“My dad had my mom’s name tattooed along his ribs. I wanted that, only with my husband’s name, but then I lost my mom. And not long after that, I lost my dad, and I stopped believing love could last. Now I know it can. After I have this baby, I want a tattoo like that of your name along my ribs. I belong to you—will always belong to you. You brought me back to life.” She lifts her head to look at me. Her finger runs along my jaw then up to trace my bottom lip.

I can’t talk with the emotions choking me, so I pull her in for a deep kiss, gently pressing one hand to her stomach. After I find my voice again, I tell her, “If you want that, baby, I’ll take you.”

“Thank you,” she whispers

“There is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, sweet Sophie.” I pull her closer to me and smile into her hair, thinking about my name being tattooed onto her perfect skin.

“You sure he’s here?” I ask Kenton, looking at the run-down house across the street from us.

“Yeah. When Ian called, he told me that Justin found a hit on his credit card. The stupid f**k ordered shit from Amazon and had it deliver here.”

“How the f**k did he run drugs without being caught for so long?” I shake my head. I swear I don’t know how most criminals are able to get away with the shit they do. Half of them are dumb as fuck.

“I don’t think he was the one in charge,” Kenton says, shaking his head.

“So what do the cops say about him?”

“They think his partners are turning on him. They want to offer him a deal, but they haven’t been able to track him. You know they always have too much red tape when it comes to this shit. Their hands are tied, so they want us convince him that he needs to come in.”

“So what’s the plan?” I look across the street again, seeing that the only light on is the one in the basement.