Page 38 of Ghost

Her eyes dropped to where I was looking, her nose scrunched, and she giggled.

Fucking. Giggled.

“Babe. Not seeing anything funny here. I might have just knocked you up.”

“No, you didn’t.” She giggled again. “I have an implant.” She pointed to the underside of her bicep.

“Thank fuck,” I groaned, falling onto my back. I’d been a dad for all of five minutes and was still figuring parenthood out. It seemed a bit premature to be adding to the brood. However, I turned my head to look at her beautiful face and vowed, “One day, I’m going to knock you up. I’m just glad it’s not today.”

She snorted as she snuggled into my side. “You’re so romantic.”

* * *

Hours later, my eyes shot open and I surged up onto my ass in bed. I listened carefully and heard the sound of shattering glass.

What the fuck?

Without making a sound, I reached over and brushed Rae’s shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open, cloudy with confusion.

“Shh.” I placed my finger to my lips. Her eyes widened.

Hearing the floorboards creak at the bottom of the steps, spurred me into action.

“Payton,” Rae mouthed.

For a split second, my muscles tensed and then I moved. I had to get to my daughter. Rae and I both rolled out of bed, and I watched her pull on my shirt and grab her gun as I grabbed mine. I crept toward the door, and she fitted herself against my back. It whined on its hinges when I cracked it open.

Fuck.

Yanking it the rest of the way, I darted out into the hall and abruptly fell to the ground when blunt force met the side of my skull. I heard Rae scream as I blinked slowly, the pain throbbing in sync with my heartbeat. My vision blurred before I fell into complete darkness.

* * *

When consciousness crept back, my head was pounding like it’d been split in two and I fought to open my eyes. Slowly the haze lifted, and I realized my wrists were bound to the arms of a chair. I struggled weakly, but I couldn’t move.

“Fuck,” I growled, looking around, searching for Rae.

“Look who's finally awake.” My focus sharpened and I saw him. It was the man who’d visited me in prison, once again dressed to the nines in a three-piece suit. The smug bastard smirked as Marshall and Davidson crowded around me.

“Fuck you,” I spat out before glaring up at the man I planned on killing first. “Nice to see you, Marshall.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, you fucking prick.” He laughed humorlessly. My gaze cut to Rae when I heard her whimper. Her hands were tied, her eyes wild with fear. The suit had a gun pressed to her temple.

“Touch her, and I swear—” The threat died as a fist crashed into my gut.

“You’re in no place to be making threats,” the suit mocked.

Who was this fucking guy and how the hell had he managed to sneak onto club property not once, but twice?

"Ghost!" Rae's voice was strong, and I feared she was about to put up a fight. Her eyes locked onto mine and I knew I was right.

“Rae, don’t—” I warned, earning a fist to the face. Stars exploded across my vision. “Fuck,” I groaned. I had to stay conscious, had to.

“I’m getting tired of sending warnings to your little fucking club. I want that fucking warehouse,” he growled.

Before it was over, I was going to kill him. I didn’t care that my brother wanted his head, I wanted my pound of flesh.

“Fuck you,” I snarled. “Your beef is with the fucking Italians or the Russians. Whoever the fuck it was that promised you a warehouse that wasn’t theirs to give.”

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