Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
So I will.
Knock, knock, knock.
I shoot up, startled, and turn to the driver’s window, recoiling when I find Nolan’s face pressed up against the glass. “What the fuck?” I breathe, just as all hell seems to break loose in the back of the car, the shocked, high-pitched screams of Maggie piercing my ears. My nostrils flare, and I look at Nolan like I’m going to kill him.
Because I am.
He appears confused for a moment, his brow furrowed as he looks into the back of the car. Then he realizes. Backs up.
I swing the door open, get out, pull my gun, and shove it under his chin.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“There’s no fucking point whispering now, you stupid cunt. She’s a-fucking-wake!”
His hands up, he leans back, getting as far away from me as possible while I have his jacket bunched in my fist. “You’ve been out here for forty minutes. I came out to see if you’re okay.”
“I was fine,” I rant. “Fucking blissful, actually, and you’ve just blown the peace to bits, Nolan.” I shove him away, stuff my gun in the back of my jeans, and swing the back door open, fucking savage. “Hey, my beautiful,” I coo quietly, unclipping her belt and scooping her out of the infant car seat, hushing her, bouncing her, kissing her head. All while glaring at Nolan.
I walk up and down by the car, persistent with my strategy, until she finally calms, her cries morphing into quiet sobs until she’s quiet again, just the odd sniffle. That was a proper cry. A truly upset cry. I’m learning to recognize the various degrees of distress. Hunger, tiredness, shitty nappy. “There,” I whisper, peeking down at her nestled in the crook of my arm, her hand now in her mouth. Look at her. Just fucking look at her. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever set eyes on. And the loudest. How can something so disruptive offer such an incredible sense of peace too? My nose wrinkles, probably making my scar deepen.
“I need your help.” I reach into the car and pull out the baby carrier. It’s bespoke. Handmade. Tried and tested.
Bulletproof.
And today is its maiden voyage. Problem is, it didn’t come with any instructions. I hold up the contraption and Nolan stares at it, wary. “What is that?”
“A bulletproof baby carrier.”
His eyes shoot to mine. “You’re not joking, are you?”
I shake my head. “Any idea how these things work?”
He takes it, turns it one way, then another. “Where did you get it?”
“Chaka.”
He laughs. “Of course you did.” A few more turns and frowns. “I’d call him.”
“I can’t call him.” I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. “Something’s wrong with it.”
“I’ll call him.” Nolan dials and hands me his phone, and I accept, putting it to my ear and getting back to walking up and down.
“It’s Danny.”
“Black,” Chaka rumbles. “Don’t tell me you need more guns.”
I huff. Definitely not. The bunker is full to the rafters and we have no one to sell to right now, since we pissed off the Mexicans and they’d likely want to use their new purchases on us. And Sandy—fuck that rapist cunt—has disappeared after I chased the fucker down and got shot a few times for my trouble. So, yeah, we’re what you could call well-armed right now. “No guns,” I say, just as Maggie yells. I quickly refocus on bouncing her in my arm, walking up and down again. “I need advice, Chaka.”
He laughs, making the phone vibrate in my hand. “Babies? I have fifteen children, Black, and I still wouldn’t recommend asking me for advice on babies.”
“Fifteen?” My mind bends. Jesus Christ. “This thing you had made for Maggie. How the fuck does it work?”
“Ah, let me put you on to the manufacturer.”
I frown. “There’s a manufacturer for bulletproof baby carriers?”
“Yes, my wife.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “You mean, even with fifteen kids, she still has time for other shit?”
“Didn’t you know, Black? Women are wonders.”
“Yeah, I know.” I look down at Maggie. See Rose in my mind’s eye. Smile. “Can I speak to your wonder woman?”
“Make it quick, Black. She’s busy.” A woman comes on the line, laughing loudly, and in just two sentences, she tells me exactly what I need to do before she hangs up. I look down at the phone, handing it to Nolan.
“Well?” he asks, the carrier dangling from his grasp.
I take it, slip one arm through, shift Maggie into my other arm, slip my right arm through, and turn. “Do me up. The straps need to cross over. Make it tight. But not too tight.” I lift Maggie and lower her legs through the holes, pulling the two straps as per Chaka’s wife’s instruction. “Snug as a bug,” I muse, tapping the back pad. Or back shield. It clangs. “And as safe as houses.”