Page 85 of The Twins

“It could be, sugar puff. Would you want our baby if it were real?” Vegas asks, stroking my hair absentmindedly.

I let his words sink in. “I’ve never been asked that question.”

“So, what’s your response to it?” Vegas insists. His ice-blue eyes remain on me, digging into my insides. He tries hard to glimpse beneath the surface, but I’m impenetrable. For six years, I honed my skills.

What is there left to say? “This baby is mine. I won’t let anyone touch it.”

“Sugar puff, are you going obsessive momma over us?”

“Fuck yes, I am!” I retort. I inhale sharply. “This… It’s my chance to make up for what I’ve lost. To be better. I… I’ll protect this baby with my own life if I have to.”

“No need to take such drastic measures, sugar—”

My phone rings, and I fish it out of my tiny bag. As soon as the device wakes up, I see that Carey Jean is calling. It’s past midnight, and kids like her should be asleep. She’s a teen, a working one at that. Didn’t her fitness gurus teach her how important it is to rest?

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I sneer into the phone.

“Grey?” Carey’s jittery voice alerts me, and I drop the attitude.

“Why are you calling me?”

“He’s outside. He came back after you chased him off. Mom’s still not home, and he… Grey, I don’t want to see him again tonight. What am I supposed to do?” Carey quivers down the line, and I straighten my spine. Vegas picks up on my stress.

“Stay there. Lock yourself in your room. I…” I gaze at Vegas. I brush my thumb over the silent mode on my phone, and I address my boyfriend. “My client needs my help. I believe she’s in trouble, and she might need to sleep over at our place.”

“Which client are we talking about?” Vegas inquires.

“Carey Jean,” I reveal.

“She’s an underage teen. Where the fuck are her parents?” Vegas curses under his breath.

“Her dad’s in New York, and her mom’s out somewhere doing whatever she does… Carey’s a good kid,” I insist, lowering my gaze.

“We need to find the others,” Vegas suggests, flushed with concern.

I open up the line on my phone. “Stay where you are. We’re coming!”

Vegas gives me a kiss, and then he departs to find Tara while I stay on the lookout for Charles and Remo. I navigate through the crowds, ending up at our table, which is now occupied by another group. Kindly, I nod, and I make my way outside of the club.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you early on,” Carey confesses.

I assure her, “Don’t you worry about that. I’ve had worse.”

Charles’s bad habits haven’t died out yet. In the cold breeze of the night, I search for my men. The bouncers observe me with a funny look in their eyes. I feel naked, but I’m determined to find Charles and Remo.

I keep Carey on the line. Her hasty breathing unnerves me, but I have to be there for her. Mr. Abbott is no good.

“What’s going on?” Charles says, coming out of nowhere. I almost drop my phone.

My heart explodes in shock, and I take deep breaths to recover. “You scared me. Did you see me look for you?”

Remo appears behind Charles, a perfect shadow of the older man. I clear my throat, and I turn my mic off so that Carey doesn’t hear. “Carey Jean, my teenage client… I believe she’s being abused by a man called Hugh Abbott. He’s a friend of her mom’s, and I have no idea what the mom knows… She needs my help. I-I have to get her out of her home.”

Charles doesn’t say anything. His face is frozen, a myriad of nothing. “Let’s go.”

I follow my men to our car with my ear glued to my phone. I ask Carey to talk to me, to stay on the line. Charles is our driver for the night, and Remo sits next to him. I’m in the back. It doesn’t take long for Vegas to appear.

The bouncers stare at our car and the commotion we cause.

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