Page 77 of Never Trust the Living (Battle Crows MC 7)

Tomorrow, I had to work at the ass crack of dawn, and I’d needed to stay up late like I needed a bullet to the head. Yet, I’d been having such a good time watching the movie with Dory curled up in my arms, our baby kicking away at my side, that I hadn’t wanted to pull away to go to bed.

Now, the movie had ended, and I seriously needed to get to sleep.

We’d had a long day, spending the majority of it shopping for baby paraphernalia before heading to the restaurant to eat.

The drive home had been even longer and the thought of lying on the couch and doing nothing for hours with Dory beside me had been so appealing that I’d done it despite knowing I shouldn’t.

And the thought of taking the trash out tomorrow morning sounded way more appealing than doing it now.

But I knew if I didn’t do it now, I certainly wouldn’t be doing it tomorrow morning because I’d rather sleep the extra five minutes.

So now it was.

Picking up the trash out of the kitchen, I headed around the house and to the back where we kept the can.

Once I had the new bag in the can, I hefted it up and started to walk it around the house.

I’d just reached Dory’s car door when something on the side caught my eye.

Ignoring it for the moment, I dropped the trash off at the curb, then went back to the car door and inspected it.

I looked hard at the door before I realized that whatever the fuck it was—and it looked like jizz, so I sure the fuck wasn’t going to touch it—it was gross.

And needed to come off now.

Heading to the side of the house, I grabbed the water hose and proceeded to spray the car door off. Once it was clean, and I was satisfied that whatever it was wouldn’t fuck up the paint of the brand-new Beemer, I headed back inside, washed my hands, brushed my teeth, and all but fell into the bed.

“You forgot to set the alarm,” Dory said from beside me.

“Fuck,” I grumbled, not bothering to move. “I’ll set it tomorrow.”

She snickered. “Good night, Bram.”

I peeled open one eye and said, “Night, baby.”

It was the soft click, the click of the door that had my eyes peeling open hours later.

It was the dead of night, and not a single light glowed through the curtains, so I knew that I still had time to sleep.

Yet, something had woken me.

I got up on my elbows and turned in the bed, spying the soft round curve of Dory’s body on the bed beside me.

The soft clack of something hitting against wood had me all but bolting up in bed.

The quick movement caused Dory to wake up.

Before she could speak, I placed my hand over her mouth and said, “Someone’s in the house. Get your gun and go to the bathroom.”

She didn’t hesitate.

She grabbed her gun out of the bedside drawer then moved on silent feet exactly where I’d directed.

Grabbing my own gun from underneath the pillow where I slept, I grabbed the flashlight with my other and situated it on top of my gun hand, finger over the button to flip it on.

I’d just stepped out into the hallway when I heard a commotion, then running feet.

Seconds later, I heard the door crash open and hit the wall, followed by a curse.

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