Page 112 of Enforcer

I can’t imagine a man like him being good in this type of situation. I’m certain Brynne was the level-headed one when she realized she might be in labor.

She’s a little past thirty-eight weeks and miserable, and it’s been driving poor Slate mad.

“We got it, Boss. Don’t worry. Brynne doing alright?”

I hear a blood-curdling scream beside him. “Focus on driving, will you?” Brynne growls at Slate on the other end.

I cough to keep from laughing.

“She’s fine. I might not make it through this, though.”

“Stop being a baby! I’m the one pushing this mammoth, Italian brute of a child out of my body!”

“Good luck, Boss.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.”

The call ends, and Lorenzo whistles.

“I do not envy him right now.”

I chuckle. “Me either. He wants us back at the offices. It might be baby time,” I tell Lorenzo, to which he nods and turns the Range Rover on, pulling away from the curb.

I haven’t driven since that day with Alyssa, and I don’t know when I’ll be comfortable doing so.

Part of me knows it’s a bit hypocritical of me not to work through my fears when I begged Alyssa to get over hers.

But I can’t help it, either.

Strangely, the accident helped me understand her better. If not her, then the anxiety she harbors.

Slate looks exhaustedacross the room from me. The labor turned out to be false, but they still kept Brynne overnight for monitoring. I tried to tell him this morning, when he showed up at my door looking like death warmed over, that I could skip this therapy, but he wasn’t having it.

So, now he’s perched in the waiting room, weary-eyed and yawning as we wait for my name to be called.

Once it is, I go through the motions of all my exercises. This week, we’re working on my range of motion with my leg and knee, helping the stabilizing muscles grow stronger around the new hardware in my leg.

The day drags on once Slate drops me at my place, and even though I know I should stay put and rest until Lorenzo comes to get me for the stakeout tonight, I text Pauly and tell him I have somewhere I need to be.

She tooka job as an accountant for a very prestigious firm on East 42nd St. Not any firm, either. PwC Accounting is the largest firm not only on the East Coast but also in the United States.

It’s tough to get a job there, and part of me wonders if Slate had a hand in her getting hired. Though, I wouldn’t blame him for trying to help her. Not everyone is cut out for this life, and her move to leave Brynne’s side is one of the reasons I’ve kept my distance all these months.

If she can’t overlook the dangerous side of this life for her best friend, how will I convince her to return to me?

Her hair whips as she steps out of a yellow cab in front of the PwC building. It towers over her like a mountain she has to climb. She pays it no mind, however.

Tossing her bag over her shoulder, she straightens and heads for the revolving door leading her into the building.

She works on the second to the top floor, keeping the books for some of the largest businesses in America.

I’ve looked into her as much as I could without setting off PwC’s systems or putting up a red flag to Alyssa that I’ve been snooping.

I want her to have the illusion I’m giving her space, even if I’m still texting her in my moments of weakness.

She stops just before the door, turning around and scanning her surroundings as if she felt the weight of my eyes on her.

I’m across the street, in the shadows of a massive potted tree. My hat is tugged down enough, and my sunglasses are dark enough that she won’t recognize me even if she spots me.

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