Page 11 of Bratva Daddies for the Single Mom

“Okay. Then you can’t be pregnant. No way they’d let something like that happen. These people are completely anal about things like that.” She grabbed her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “What did they give you?”

“I don’t know.” An ache formed behind my eyes. “She just called it a Plan B pill or something.”

Tina tapped on her phone. Scrolled. Tapped some more. “Where’s your contract?”

“In my room.” I started to stand. A rush of dizziness drove me down. “The brown bank box in my closet.”

“Be right back.” Tina rushed away, but her voice carried through the thin walls. “Found it. I bet they listed it in the fine print.”

Papers rustled, her voice muttering as she read. “Yep. Right here. Okay. Let me look it up.”

I crossed my fingers and raised my head to the ceiling. “Don’t be pregnant. Please.” I loved my girls with my whole heart, but how was I supposed to raise another baby when we were barely getting by? I couldn’t contact any of the men, even if I knew who they were. The contract explicitly stated that it was forbidden for me to call, text, email, or reach out to any of them in any way at all.

Tina walked into the bathroom, her steps heavy. She pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger, her other thumb scrolling down the phone. She sat beside me and held the phone out for me to see. “That’s what you took.” A flick of her thumb, and a graph appeared on the screen. “Not one hundred percent effective,” she read in a rigid monotone.

“I need a pregnancy test.” I buried my head in my hands. The cold floor chilled my feet, and I welcomed the shudder thattickled its way up my spine. Anything was better than the gaping nothingness that threatened to swallow me whole. “I need to know for sure.” I’d figure out step two once I knew for sure there was a step to take.

“I have a test.” Tina reached past me, pulling open the cabinet and digging into her basket of personal items. Pink painted her cheeks when I stared hard at her, my mouth hanging open. “I had a thing with a guy at the bar a few months ago. The condom broke, so I took a test to make sure.” She held out the slim packaging. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Shout if you need me.”

“Thanks.” I waited for the bathroom door to close behind her before I tore open the package, read the directions, and followed them exactly. With the test sitting on the edge of the counter, I ran from the room, almost crashing into Tina when she rounded the corner.

“What?” She grabbed my arms and peered over my shoulder. “Are you okay? Why are you running?”

“Scared.” I pulled her with me to the bathroom door, where I stood staring at the pregnancy test, my heart thundering out a furious beat like the test was a bomb I suddenly had to learn how to defuse. “I’m running scared. Get it?”

“Your puns are getting weak.” She managed a laugh that sounded as strained as I felt. “We’ll get through this. No matter what.”

“If I’m pregnant again, we can kiss that condo goodbye.” I chewed on my thumbnail, the nausea swirling in the pit of my stomach.

“That’s fine. We don’t have to move.” She held my hand tight. “Maybe it’s a fluke.”

“Maybe.” My nose had never betrayed me except that one time. It would be a miracle for it to be on the fritz now. My phone beeped. “I can’t look. Check it for me.”

“Oh, no. You’re looking. You can’t avoid it.” She pulled me into the room. “We’ll look together. On three.” She picked up the stick, her head turned toward me and eyes locked on mine.

“One.” A full-body shiver rippled through my skeleton, clenching my fingers around Tina’s.

She took a breath. “Two.”

I nodded, my chin trembling. “Three.”

She raised the test to eye level, and we both whipped our heads around.

“Damn it.” I covered my mouth with my free hand. “I didn’t mean that.” My hand fell to my stomach, cradling the life growing there. “I didn’t mean it. I love you. I love you, sweet baby. We’ll be okay.”

Tina hugged me, her arms keeping me from falling apart. “We’ll be okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

7

ILYA

“You’re certain?” I asked the man for the third time.

He nodded. “Yes, sir. I dropped her off at the corner, near the coffee shop. Didn’t stick around to see where she went.” He shrugged. “Job was to get her where she wanted to go. Nothing more.”

“And you remember nothing else?” I’d interrogated the driver who dropped Annie off, hoping he’d remember something new since the last time we spoke. His story remained annoyingly concise. We employed men like Randolph because he got the job done, didn’t ask questions, and didn’t step outside his job parameters. Today, of all days, I wished he had a little more gumption and had at least watched to see which way Annie walked when she left his car.

Randolph shrugged. His hands wrapped tighter around the coffee cup. My food sat uneaten, while his plate was almost wiped clean. Clean plate. No guilt on the conscience. “Doubt she’d have made it far in those heels with that bag weighing her down. But maybe she got a taxi or something.”

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