Series: Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Despite the fact that I may have smashed what was left of it after she finished.
“I’ll be right back.”
I have the back door to the alley propped open to let the breeze through because it’s cool for once, and I hear the boyfriend talking on his cell phone.
”Call it off. Yeah, I’m sure. I’m rescinding the job. It’s off. No money will be paid.”
A shiver sidles up my spine. I’m certain that’s a conversation I shouldn’t be overhearing. Not wanting to once again become a witness to something illegal, I hurry to finish the arrangement and rush back to the lobby with the vase in hand.
“Here you go.” I force a smile, still fighting off the sense of foreboding from hearing that phone call and the ache of having all my feelings for Armando activated once more.
“Thank you.” She studies me with curiosity. “Can I ask how you and—never mind.” She shakes her head. “It’s none of my business. I’m just happy for you guys.”
If only happiness could be ours.
“Thanks.” I watch her walk out before I pick up my phone and pull up an old text from Armando. He hasn’t texted once since I kicked him out.
I don’t know why I thought he would. But some part of me must’ve hoped because every day that goes by without hearing from him makes me die a little more.
My thumb hovers over my screen trying to decide if I should initiate communication. Finally, I settle for, Thanks for recommending me to Grace.
Then I delete the whole thing. If I send it, he might call and I’m not sure I can handle talking to him.
Still, I want to thank him. I can’t imagine he enjoyed talking to her. I just can’t picture him chatting her up in any way. So that fact that he stuck his neck out to make sure she got her flowers here means something. Whether it was before or after we broke up, I don’t know, but either way, it was nice of him.
And that’s when I’m sure.
I made a terrible mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Armando
Larry’s happy, I’m finally doing what I was supposed to on this job—sit back and do nothing while the rest of them work.
I rub my swollen knuckles and stare at Hannah’s dad, who’s back on the job already. I was on edge, ready to fuck Larry in the ass with my boot if he gave Harold any shit about being out, but nothing happened.
Harold refuses to look at me, and Larry tries to pretend I’m not here anyway.
The last week has been a fucking blur. I go out every night with Marco and Leo delivering messages for the don then losing my mind in a bottle. The days are nothing. I don’t even know how they pass. It’s like being in prison again. One minute bleeds into an hour bleeds into a day. Nothing but violence and staying alive to fuel my existence.
At quarter ‘til five o’clock, everyone starts moving in unison, packing their shit up to go. I stand and start to head out, but I see Harold looking over at me.
I wait because—fuck—I’m desperate for any kind of news about Hannah, any kind of connection to her. I’ve been so fucking lost without her. Dead.
He walks toward me like he’s pissed. With intent. Like he’s going to punch me in the gut.
And when he reaches me, he does.
I take it like a man, and I don’t fight back because he’s Hannah’s fucking dad. If he thinks I deserve his wrath, he’s probably right.
He hits me again, this time in the ribs. Then once more in the jaw.
“I don’t care who the fuck you are. Or what family you work for. If you think you’re gonna knock up my daughter and walk away, you’d better think again.”
It takes a second for his words to sink in. Knock up. He said knock. Up.
I swipe the blood from my lip with the back of my hand. “Hannah’s pregnant?” I demand.
The guy goes still, like he realized he might have fucked up. Like maybe I wasn’t supposed to know.
I remember that pregnancy test box on the table. She told me it had been negative.
She lied?
Why?
A dozen scenarios run through my mind, but I don’t stop to ask Harold, who obviously doesn’t know what’s going on in his daughter’s head any more than I do. I leave him standing there and jog to the street. I need a fucking Uber.
Right fucking now!
For once in my goddamn life, things seem to go my way because a taxi pulls over when I flag it, and I throw myself inside, giving the address for Garden of Eden.
She lied and broke up with me rather than telling me she was pregnant. Why? Why?
Because she knew I’d be no good as a father and provider was the most obvious answer. That was the reason I’d freaked out when I saw the test box. And because I already had someone who wanted me dead, and I sure as hell didn’t need to endanger a tiny innocent life with my fucked up drama.