Page 70 of Trick

All this time, we’ve been having unprotected sex while he thought I was on birth control.

What the fuck have I done?

This thing between us is still new, and while I have no doubt he loves me, there’s a big difference between loving someone and having a child with them. Sophia is still so young. Will he want two kids under three?

I chew my nails as I wait for the test to do its thing, and I’m so scared to look, but I force myself.

The little plus sign in the window makes my heart skip several beats. Pregnant. I’m fucking pregnant.

The wash of emotions that flow through me are jumbled.

Fear. Joy. Terror. Happiness. Hope. Despair.

I press my hand over my belly. There is a life growing inside me.

What if I miscarry again?

What if I can’t carry a baby to full term?

What if…

Fear clutches me, abject terror of all the things that can go wrong sits in my gut. I stuff the test into the box and head downstairs, trying to calm my stormy thoughts.

As I enter the kitchen, Sophia twists in her highchair to see me, her cheeks wet, and guilt tears through me. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I coo at her as I toss the test into the trash, burying it under a few boxes.

She makes a grabby hand motion as soon as I get close to her and I lift her out of the highchair, pressing her against my chest.

Having another baby is going to completely change the dynamic we have in the house. It’s going to change everything…

Despite all the uncertainty, all the fear I have, there is a small part of me that is elated. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want another baby, but will this time have a happier ending?

A knock on the front door breaks me out of the moment, and I warily move into the hallway, still holding Sophia. No one comes to the house without prior warning, and Bobby usually intercepts any delivery drivers.

If it was someone dangerous, he would have stepped in, right?

That is the only reason I continue to the door.

When I look through the peephole, I see Bobby standing in front of it. Relief floods me and I open the door.

As soon as I do, I realise my mistake.

A tall figure steps out from around the side of the house, his gun pointed at Bobby’s head. I swallow down the scream that wants to leave my mouth as Bobby is forced inside.

I have no choice but to step back into the hallway as I try to put distance between me and the man holding the gun. I clutch Sophia to me, protecting her from the scene in front of us.

“You’re making a mistake,” Bobby grinds out as the gun is pressed harder into the back as head.

His hands are raised at his sides, but I don’t miss the way his face contorts into an angry snarl at being pushed around.

“Shut up,” the man growls. His accent is distinct and definitely from Birmingham, but his appearance is so similar to Skye—and also Sariah—that I know instinctively he is Desmond Richardson.

The suit he’s wearing is rumpled, as if he has been sleeping in it for a month, and his beard is ragged and unkempt, so different from Trick’s.

His bloodshot irises pin me with a glare that seems unhinged, and I feel the knock of death on my door.

“In there.” He points towards the kitchen.

Sensing my fear, Sophia fusses in my arms. I rock her slightly, making shushing sounds as I move as far away from the danger as possible.

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