Page 82 of Body Lock

“And how is my little man today?” Dropping to my stomach, Quinn kissed the bulging bump protruding from my center.

“Ugh, he's driving me crazy. I swear the kid's already preparing to be a professional kick boxer, and my kidneys are his practice bags.”

Laughing, he kissed my stomach and spoke into my bellybutton. “Be nice to your mom, I don't want to have to ground you right when you arrive.”

For some reason, Quinn was convinced that my bellybutton was like a damn speaker to our baby. Every time he talked to our son, he used it like a freaking tin can attached to a string.

“Well if he's as cute as you are, then I might have a hard time punishing him at all.”

“You say that now, till the first time you come home to find him using one of your fancy undergarments as a parachute for one of his action figures.”

“Are you saying I have large underwear?” Cocking my head, I stopped short in the hall.

“What? Oh, no, no, that's not what I meant.” Quinn held his hands up in defense, jumbling his words. “I... No, that's not... I—”

Chuckling, I smacked his chest. “I'm only fucking with you, calm down.”

Shifting his eyes, Quinn laughed a very awkward and uncomfortable sound. “Ha, funny, screw with me now when you're seven months along.”

I couldn't help it. I knew that I had my moments;okay, several moments,where my hormones got the best of me. Last week I cried because Quinn made me a sandwich and he didn't put mustard on it.

Silly, I know. But at the time, it felt like my world had crashed around me. I really wanted mustard.

“I love you,” I said, coiling my fingers into his. “I'll try not to mess with you too much.”

“Thank you.” Running his thumb over my knuckles, he pushed the door open to outside.

The sun hit my eyes, my hand shooting up, trying to adjust to the brightness. Quinn's arm fell across my shoulders, tucking into his ribs, I snuggled up beside him as we walked.

“Have you heard from your dad?” he asked.

After the raid, my dad had been arrested, along with a number of other guys. And honestly, I couldn't say I was upset about it either.

The man needed help, he needed a fucking wake up call. And deep down I was hoping that after all of this, maybe, just maybe, one day I could still find some room in my heart to forgive him completely.

I'd been trying, taking little steps. I had forgiven him for some of what he did, and for now, that was enough.

I couldn't hold onto all that anger, it didn't serve a point.

And I knew deep down, my mother would want me to forgive him. That was the least I could do for now.

He was still my father, and that would never change. It was the only piece I still held onto, even if it was just gently pinched between my fingertips.

From what I had learned, the police had been watching the place for a while. It turned out that one of the Macro's top bidders was an undercover cop.

Funny how that works. He always thought money could buy them all.

They had a barrage of video, audio recordings; and after tearing through his office, a whole stack of papers to use against him.

Luckily for me, they hadn't found the small stash of cash my dad had hidden in our apartment. I don't know how, but his makeshift safe in the bathroom ceiling had gone unnoticed.

“No.” Rolling my eyes, I rubbed my forehead. “But he wrote me, and asked if I would consider visiting him at some point.”

“Are you going to?” His question was riddled with concern.

Wrinkling my nose, I shook my head side to side. “I don't think so. Maybe one day, but not for a really, really long time. Besides, I have years to think about that.”

“Yeah, you don't need to worry about that right now.” Holding the door, he said, “Here we are, love. Let's go eat.”

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