Page 7 of Entombed In Sin

ANGEL EYES

Igrip the steering wheel as I head home, still trying to piece together all that I know about Thatcher, Sagan, Knox, and Beatrix.

In the cupholder, my cell phone vibrates. I reach for it, flip it open, and check the messages waiting for me.

Officer Roman: The boss is asking about the missing trackers. I need them back.

Officer Roman: I may be able to slip them back into the rest of the ancient tech shit here at the department if I get them back soon and no one would be the wiser.

I scowl. If the bastard thinks I’m going to give these trackers back, he’s wrong. I need them. I can’t be everywhere at once, and Ineedto know where these four are at all times. What if they slip back onto my turf? I need to know that.

The fact that he’s even contacting me tells me he doesn’t realize who the hell he’s talking to. The rule is simple: wait until I reach out. His father, Rupert Roman, and I had been close when I was on the force. Rupert was one of the cops that helped me fake my death so I could live out the rest of my life with my OldLady. Rupert died a few years back, but before he did, he’d told me he’d given his burner phone to his son, who promised to keep helping me whenever I needed. Officer Roman is nothing like his father, though. Sure, he’s useful from time to time for gaining information about the crimes happening all over the city, but he’s too lazy and arrogant for my liking. Plus, asking him for help is like pulling teeth.

Actually, I might just have to do just that next time he pushes back on my requests in the future.

Ignoring Rupert’s kid, I move on to the next messages.

Jakob: Threaten 1 of my boys again, n I’ll hunt you down, Angel

Jakob: wat the fck do u want?

I snicker. For someone who considers themselves a strong leader, Jakob practically pisses his pants whenever there’s even a hint of me in the air. I know where he lives, where he hides his drugs, and where he typically conducts his business. Better yet, he knows thatIknow all of this. Any time he changes things up, I’m there in the shadows. There’s no escaping me, and Jakob knows that. I have him by the balls. His threat is empty.

Rather than answer, I toss the phone back into the cupholder and reach into my pocket for my personal one. One glance at the screen tells me there are no notifications waiting for me. My stomach twists anxiously.

I unlock the phone and call home. The phone rings and rings, but no one answers.

“Damn it, ShayShay,” I grumble before trying again.

Just like before, there’s no answer. This time, I leave a voicemail offering to pick up dinner on the way home; whatever she wants just so long as she calls me back. I know she won’t, though. As I shove the phone back into my pocket, I know itwon’t ring again. My stomach feels leaden as the speedometer creeps past the speed limit.

When I’m nearly home, I pull off to pick up some Chinese food and then slip into the grocery store beside the restaurant to grab a few of my Old Lady’s favorite treats. I’m home twenty minutes later.

“ShayShay?” I call into the dark house.

I flip the lights on as I enter through the front door and listen. The house is painfully silent. I sigh, my heart sinking as I head for the kitchen.

“Darlin’? I brought dinner home!” I call, trying again. Again, I’m met with silence.

Placing the bag of dinner down on the counter, I carry the grocery bag full of treats with me as I leave the kitchen and head for the stairs. I take them two at a time, my heart racing with concern.

“Shannon? Shay?” I call again as I head down the hall to our bedroom. The door is cracked open, but it’s dark inside the room. I push the door open wide and flick on the lights. There, lying on her side on the left side of the bed, covered with the quilt I’d thrown over her before I left on my most recent scouting expedition, is my Old Lady.

She stares at the wall, but her gaze is unseeing. The dark bags beneath her pretty green eyes seem to have deepened in the fifteen hours I’ve been gone. Her thick red hair is down and messy, her face extra pale. As I approach, my eyes slide over her. Has she even moved? My gut says no. I’m pretty sure this is the exact position she was in when I left the house.

“Oh, darlin’,” I murmur, my heart breaking for my pretty wife. I sit on the bed beside her and reach out to stroke her face. “I hate seeing you like this.”

ShayShay licks her dry lips and blinks before letting out a soft sigh.

“I don’t know how else to be. I… I hurt so bad,” she whispers. Tears well up in her eyes before they begin spilling down her cheeks. The pillow she’s resting her face against is soaking wet from the tears she’s wept in my absence.

“I told you I’d figure something out, didn’t I?” I urge. “Don’t give up on me just yet, darlin’.”

She gives the slightest of nods, but the void in her gaze makes me wonder if she even heard me. Infertile. That’s what the doctor’s test told us. The dream of carrying my child in her womb was dashed in the blink of an eye. We knew something was wrong. We’ve been trying for years. But when nothing happened, we’d gone to see what the problem was. We both thought it was me—that my swimmers just weren’t what they used to be.

Neither of us had even considered Shannon’s body betraying us.

The news had been a massive blow. I didn’t even realize how badly I’d wanted a child of my own until it was declared impossible. But my pain is only an echo of what my Shannon is feeling, I know that. Her life’s goal had always been to be a mother. She’d been looking forward to feeling the kick of a baby inside her and that special connection that bonded a mother and child. She’s been a shell of the woman I knew ever since we got the news a week ago.

---