Page 42 of The First Cut
“Lola? It’s Hoops. Hannibal sent me up with food.”
Blowing out a relieved breath, I open the door and find the prospect with a tray full of food in his hand and a couple of books under his arm.
“Um, do you need help?”
“I’m good. Just tell me where you want it.”
“The bed?”
When he walks in, I take a big step back. He lays the tray on the bed, grabs the books, and puts them next to it.
“Hannibal says you like to read and that he forgot to grab books for you while you were out, so I grabbed these from my room for you. I hope they’re okay. I’m not really sure what you’re into.”
“I’ll read anything. Thank you so much.”
I step closer, the lure of books making me brave. I recognize both of them. They’re by a pretty famous horror writer. “Oh, I’ve seen these but not read them. I can’t wait to get started.” I clap, making him chuckle.
“Well if you like them, let me know. I have a load more.”
My eyes must light up like it’s Christmas because he clears his throat before pointing at the tray. “It’s not as good reheated, but it’s food, right?”
I stare at the tray and gulp. “I’ve heard of eating for two, but to eat this much food, I’d need to be carrying octuplets.”
He laughs and heads for the door. “Just eat what you can. That way, Hannibal can make note of what you like.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” He winks before closing the door behind him.
My stomach growls viciously, demanding I pay more attention to the food. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pick up a cheeseburger and take a bite. I moan as the taste explodes on my tongue. Reheated or not, this is the best damn burger I’ve had in years.
I devour it before moving on to the next one. I stop after two because I don’t want to make myself sick. Instead, I move to the fries and happily munch on them as I slurp the vanilla shake. It’s not my favorite flavor, but I don’t care. It’s sweet and cold and tastes like summer.
By the time I’m finished, I’m full but content. I look at what’s left and move it to the dresser. I’ll happily munch on it later, even if it’s cold. After being starved by Driller on too many occasions, I will never take having food for granted again. I usethe bathroom to clean up before I crawl onto the bed and crack open the first book.
I’ve never thought about what makes me happy. Everything I’ve done in my life was to please someone. First my dad, then Havoc, and at times Driller—even if that was only out of self-preservation. But lying here now, happy and full, with a book in my hand, I know I’d sell my soul for moments like this.
I don’t know how long I lie there, consumed with the story, that at first I don’t realize anything’s wrong. But when I hear gunshots followed by screaming outside, I jump from the bed and hurry to the bathroom. I lock the door and crawl into the bath, making myself as small as possible. I duck and pray, hoping that everyone is okay. That Hannibal's okay, not realizing I didn’t think of Havoc once.
I stay where I am, even when the noise dies down, and silence blankets the room. I don’t know if it’s a trick or if it’s safe to leave so I stay where I am, knees bent and arms wrapped around myself so my belly is protected.
Feeling lost and afraid, I must eventually cry myself out because the next thing I know, I’m jolted awake by the sound of the door slamming open. I shriek and burrow down further, trying to protect my baby in the only way I can.
“It’s me, doll. Just me.” And then Hannibal’s there on the floor in front of me. I don’t think, I throw myself at him. He jolts back but catches me with ease, brushing my hair from my face as he takes me in.
“Shit, fuck. I should have come up sooner. I had to make sure we had everything covered.”
“Did Driller come for me?”
“Oh fuck, baby. No. And if he does, I’ll cut him open from sternum to throat and rip out his insides.”
I swallow the urge to gag at the visual his words conjure up.
He scoops me up and carries me to the bed, sitting me on the edge of it. “I’m going to give you the condensed version of what’s happening. Think you can handle that?”
I nod rapidly. Not knowing is worse. I have an overactive imagination.
“Khan made his move. We expected him to hit the clubhouse while Havoc was at Nevaeh’s book signing, sending a few men to snatch Nevaeh if they got the chance. It’s why I made sure the prospects were covering us today while we shopped and why we went so early.”
