Page 63 of Recaptured by the Crime Lord

“Most men are like me but they suffocate their beast beneath a layer of politeness and civility. I don’t bother.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gavin

Lyla was trying to kill him. Gavin paced his office and tried to resist the urge to go home and spank his wife’s rebellious ass. She adopted that fucking Pit bull! She had no fear or sense of self-preservation. Blade reassured him that the Pit bull acted like a cocker spaniel around his wife, following her everywhere and not showing any signs of aggression, buthell! For the past month she went to the dog shelter three times a week. She never mentioned the Pit bull so he assumed she listened to him and walked Chihuahuas or some other yappy dog she could easily control. Instead, his wife befriended the most aggressive breed in the shelter. Should he be surprised? Against all the odds, she was with him, a fucking murderer and he worshipped the ground she walked on. If she decided to shine her light on anything, it would blossom like he had. She had been drawn to this dog from the start. He wouldn’t be able to banish it without his wife raising hell. Fuck! Didn’t she understand how much she meant to him?

Gavin slammed his fist against the glass wall of his office and glared out at the red mountains surrounding Las Vegas. Since Lyla announced her pregnancy, he’d become a fucking savage. He was overprotective, oversexed and overbearing. Carmen informed him that he was acting like a psycho. The beast he usually kept chained in the deep recesses of his mind prowled on the surface, waiting for something to happen. He was ecstatic about Lyla and the baby. He’d never been so fucking happy in his life, but he was so vulnerable. Everyone knew how he felt about his wife. He couldn’t hide it and didn’t want to. He was waiting for another attack and couldn’t stand the suspense. He’d done too much shit in the underworld for those fuckers to allow him to live a happy, ordinary life. The men that lived in the underworld lived shit lives where paranoia and a lack of empathy kept them alive. They wouldn’t let him get away scot-free.

Lyla was four months pregnant and he could barely contain himself. This weekend was the gender party. He was ninety-nine percent certain that the baby was a girl. He prayed every night that Nora would be here soon. Having a girl would be confirmation from God that he was forgiven for his sins. Nora would be his absolution, his redemption. Until then, he was a condemned man.

In jail, he contemplated suicide. Pyre Casinos would’ve continued without him and Lyla would move on. Everyone connected to him was in danger and he deserved to die for the shit he’d allowed to happen to people under his protection. A wave of exhaustion forced him into uneasy sleep. That night, he dreamed of Nora. Since then, he focused on getting Lyla back and trying to heal wounds that would never leave either of them. The feel of Nora’s little arms going around him was something he had to experience in this lifetime.

Gavin boxed in the ring everyday and ate as much as an athlete training for the Olympics. He made sure Lyla went to the gun range and that he practiced as well. He trained for an attack that would come. And when it came, he would hit back so hard, no one would dare touch what was his. Those bastards weren’t allowed to touch something so pure and beautiful. Lyla and the baby were his to protect and he would do so with his dying breath. Whatever it cost to keep Lyla and the baby, he would pay.

There was a cursory knock on his door before Marcus entered. He had a stack of papers in his hand and he was on the phone. Gavin turned to glare at him as Marcus finished the call.

“Something wrong?” Marcus asked.

“My wife adopted a Pit bull,” Gavin growled.

Marcus grinned. “From the shelter?”

Know-it-all bastard. “Yes.”

Marcus shrugged. “Your wife isn’t stupid. She knows what she’s doing.”

“I know that,” Gavin spat. “What do you want?”

“Are you inviting me to the baby gender party?”

“How the fuck do you know all this shit?”

“I have my sources,” Marcus said. “So, what? Am I invited?”

“You want to go to a baby gender party?”

“It’syourbaby gender party, not some stranger’s. Plus, I love your wife—”

“No.”

Marcus never failed to push his buttons. Gavin didn’t care that there was no sexual attraction between Lyla and Marcus. He didn’t like the way Marcus made her laugh or that she allowed him to put a brotherly arm around her. Marcus honestly enjoyed Lyla, but Gavin couldn’t stand it, not when he was so on edge. Hearing Marcus say he loved his wife, even jokingly, made Gavin’s blood pressure rise.

“Fine. I think she’s a goddess,” Marcus amended.

Gavin crossed his arms. “Not even that.”

“God, you’re a possessive son of a bitch.”

“Yes, I am.” He wouldn’t apologize for it. Lyla was his.

“Whatever, man. What do you bring to a baby gender party?”

“How the hell do I know?”

“Do you want a boy or girl?”

“Girl.”

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