Page 25 of Into the Fire

He let out a huff of air. “You’re a maniac.”

I let out a laugh. “Trust me, that’s just the tip of the fucking iceberg. Send your wife my love. Tell her nine AM. Don’t be fucking late.”

I hung up before he could answer and breathed out.

“I’ll kill him if you tell me I can,” I said softly, knowing I wasn’t alone anymore.

“I know,” Enzo’s voice came back. “I might let you if I ever see her hurt like that again.”

I looked at him as he moved to stand in front of me.

“But for now, keep your gun tucked away. We have other things to worry about than John Bishop. He’s digging his own grave with Rosalie. Let him. We have others to dig.”

“What have you heard?” I stared up at him.

“Croft is dead,” he answered simply. “The hit has been shut down. My parents are coming home.”

“What does this mean?”

“Everything, brother. Everything.”

NINE

ETHAN

Iwatched as Rosalie sat on the couch and wrote in her notebook. She’d been scribbling away for the last hour and checking her phone. I wanted to ask her what she was doing, but I also didn’t want to interrupt her either.

It was just me and her in the house. She’d been quiet the last few days over the conversation she’d had with her parents. Her mom had shown up and they’d gone dress shopping, but Rosalie had come home still looking depressed and said she hadn’t found anything.

If I had to guess, it was because she wasn’t in the mood for it, but I had to hand it to Cole, he pulled through on it and had modeled dresses from her closet for her that night, making her smile and laugh a little.

But that was days ago now and nothing was helping pull her out of her funk. Not even Anson, according to Fox, and Anson always made her smile from what I’d noticed.

I hated he could do it, but I loved it too.

He was an OK guy. I didn’t have issues with him. I just knew what sort of situation we were in and worried we’d lose her. It was hard enough to deal with my own shit lately. Nightmares. Ugly memories on a constant spin in my head. Feeling like Ineeded to try harder to be a better man for Rosalie. Feeling disgusted that if she ever knew all the shit I’d done or had done to me that she’d hate me for it. I’d never let her know how deep the fucking rabbit hole went. I’d die before she found out what a piece of shit I was at the hands of sick men and women.

“Hey, sweetheart?” I called out.

“Yeah?” She paused her writing and looked at me as I came into the room.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out and see a movie? Maybe get something to eat?”

“Really?” She crinkled her brows at me.

“Yeah.” I stood in front of her. “We don’t get to do a lot together. This would be nice. I miss spending time with you.”

A tiny smile teased her lips. “I would love to.”

I breathed out a breath of relief. “OK. Go get ready and I’ll meet you at your room in ten?”

She nodded and got up, leaving her notebook behind. I watched as she went upstairs, the sound of her door clicking closed behind her.

I stared down at her notebook. I never snooped through anyone’s stuff, but I needed an inside track on how to make her feel better, so I opened her notebook, hoping to find a modicum of help within its pages.

What I saw made my breath catch in my chest.

She’d written down a plan for a baby.

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