Page 34 of What's Left of Us

All she does is stare at me, clearly speechless over the offer.

“Like I said. Think on it.”

A nagging feeling pulls on my gut, one that tells me I probably shouldn’t be doing this. But I’m the reason she’s in this position. The military shaped me into the type of person who offers help to someone in need. The apartment isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.

Eventually, she swallows. “Why?”

“Because I feel a little guilty,” I admit, lifting a shoulder dismissively. “But also because I’ve always had a thing for saving damsels in distress. I guess it’s a hero complex.”

“And what would you get out of it?”

“A chance to feel like I’m doing right by somebody, I suppose.”

She looks skeptical, not that I blame her. Most guys would probably expect a lot more. If nothing else, sex. But if giving her somewhere safe to go helps her get onto her feet, then I’ll do it. If nothing else, it makes me feel better.

Because there’s no way McAdams can be right. Most families connected to the mafia are close. They wouldn’t kick out one oftheir own, especially if they know something they shouldn’t. It doesn’t add up.

“Let me give you my number, and you can let me know what you decide,” I say, pulling out a card for work that has my cell listed.

It takes her a minute to accept it, glancing down at the paper. “Lincoln Danforth.”

“The one and only.”

When she looks up at me, I wink.

She tucks it away in her purse. “I’ll think about it.”

Her feigned confidence is back, and suddenly, I respect her a lot more. Because it’s obvious she’s gone through hell, and she’s still standing. Still fighting. All for a future for herself.

“You do that, Peaches.”

The nickname makes her eyebrows furrow.

“I’ll never forget how sweet you tasted,” I say, making her gape at the implication. I hope she remembers what it felt like to have my face buried in her pussy, what it was like to look down as I made her writhe until she shattered apart around me. “I’ll hear from you soon.”

“And if you don’t?” she asks as I back away from her and toward my friends.

I grin. “I will.”

CHAPTER TEN

Lincoln / Present

I’ve been tothe white colonial-styled home plenty of times over the last ten years, but this time it’s different. There’s a tension in the air that makes it harder to breathe as I walk up the uneven brick pathway leading to the front door, my heart hammering in my chest as I raise my hand to knock.

But the door opens before I can even hit it, revealing a petite redhead on the other side, like she’s been expecting me. I stare at Matt Conklin’s wife, swallowing thickly and unsure of what to say.

“It’s about time,” is how Marissa greets me.

I push past my discomfort and find my voice. “I’m sorry for avoiding you. It wasn’t fair of me to leave you suffering alone that way.”

She sighs. “Lincoln…” She shakes her head, looking over her shoulder at the brown-haired little boy playing video games on the couch before turning to me again. “I—wewere never alone. Cooper and I have had a wonderful support system through it all.”

I look from her to her son and then down at the ground. Suddenly, a hand reaches out and squeezes my arm, lifting my gaze. She steps aside to let me in, saying, “I just wish you would have realized sooner that you have people too.”

It isn’t until I pass her that I see the distinct bump on her stomach. “You’re…?”

Her smile turns sad as she rubs her sloped midsection. “We found out a few weeks before the…” She looks down, clearing herthroat. “We found out a few weeks before the shooting. He was so excited to be a father of two.”

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