Page 3 of A Killer's Heart

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I’d think you’d know more than I do. Who hired you?" When he tells me, I shake my head, but then it clicks. "As in Max Donald?"

"Yes, his father, Ernest. He’s the head of the family."

"What are you talking about? Max is in finance, a banker or something like that."

He growls as he points as my stomach, saying, “I guess that’s Max’s son or daughter.”

I immediately correct him. "This baby is mine. Max is merely the sperm donor. Again, why would they be after me?”

"Max’s family runs the biggest drug enterprise in France. They’re also one of the biggest players in the world." My mouth falls open in shock and I immediately tell him that I had no clue.

"I went on three dates with the guy. The last ending up being a nightmare."

His jaw tightens so much it’s a wonder his teeth haven’t cracked. "He fucking raped you?"

"No. Yes," I respond, honestly unsure of the answer. "I was drunk and he turned aggressive. I didn’t think I could say no. Or I did and he didn’t listen.” That night is all a blur now.

"Then yes, he did. Just that one time?" I explain that he’d scared me, so I broke it off the next day and eventually moved.

"I wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't until later that I found out I was pregnant."

"They must know you are. The hierarchy is very serious to them. An unplanned baby would not factor into that, especially when Max is set to marry into another crime family. They would that union to bring a first born from Max.”

"I feel like an idiot. How did I not know any of this?"

"You're a good girl,” he whispers. And the statement oddly makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

"So, what do we do?"

"Lay low. I’ll keep you both safe." I ask for how long, reminding him of my due date that’s getting closer every day. “Until I kill everyone that dares to come after you.” That was said without hesitation. And while his murderous expression should terrify me, it doesn’t. Instead, I feel protected as I stare in his eyes. I swear I can see into his soul, the turmoil and layers of his personality he hides. I nod, wanting him to know I trust him. Now, the reaction my heart is having is something I’ll have to think about more later as I’ve never experienced it.

"Would it be possible to gather some things from my house?"

"It’ll have to be quick. I want to leave Cape Town right away."

“Okay,” I agree, trusting my life to this stranger whose name I don’t know. That makes me giggle. When he wants to know why, I explain.

"Smith."

"That can't be your real name."

"It's the only one I remember." Well, that’s cryptic. I want to ask more, but he rises, holds out his hand, and commands, "Let's get going."

I grasp it on instinct, then smile and say, "I'm in your care now."

"Yes. You’re mine now." Something tells me we’re talking about two different things.

Chapter 4

Smith

Poppy is stubborn, a fact I learned the hard way when I stressed that she couldn’t bring everything she owned with us. I told her one bag, that’s it. Of course, she ignored it each time I mentioned it, a slight that’s cost someone their life in the past. She, however, is different. The woman doesn’t know it yet, but she owns me. I’d do whatever she asked of me.

Finally, having convinced her to pack only the essentials, we head to the airport, fake IDs in hand. Shortly after we’re settled in first class, the plane takes off for Italy. Enzo has been helpful in the past, and I’m hoping he can be again. Poppy, having taken the window seat, leans close and whispers, “How did we get by without using our real names?” I swear, despite the situation, her voice travels straight to my dick, getting a rise out of it. Literally.

"I know people," I mutter just as quietly. She rolls her eyes at my answer, then resumes reading her magazine geared toward parents. That has me glancing at her belly, today’s outfit displaying the slight bump. My solution isn’t an easy one as sorting out this bullshit with the Donalds will take time, but us being on the move will buy us some. Not to mention, a chance to uncover leverage to use against them. Speaking of the baby, he or she needs protected just as much as she does. She hasn’t spoken much about her pregnancy, though the circumstances behind it might be why. Yet I find myself wanting to be a part of it with her, to experience the changes as she goes through them. And I have no fucking idea how to make that happen. Trying to make small talk, which I’ve never done in my life, “Do you know what your having?”

Poppy gives me a sad smile, admitting, “No. I’m due for an ultrasound, though.” I make a mental note to set up an appointment for her as soon as we land, then question if she wants to know or has a preference. “As long as they’re healthy, that’s all that matters. I honestly haven’t thought much about it beyond that. The whole thing was a shock. I’d never pictured myself as a single mother.” Her hand rests gently on her stomach at that, and out of instinct, I place mine on top of hers. I immediately start to raise it, realizing I’m touching her without permission, but she stops me. “Can you feel it kicking?”

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