Page 18 of Secret Baby and the Bratva

I turn the key in the ignition and slam the car door shut. He better not fuck this up for us.

Feliks rides shotgun. We’re about to give up when Yulian steps forward. His hand hesitates before grabbing his firearms and closing the safe.

Twelve

Margot

It’sbecomesecondnaturethat when all three of their phones go off at the same time, they’re going to have to leave or go to the other room to discuss business.

There was something different about this time. They all stiffened as they read their text messages. The tension was palpable.

Maxim’s expression held hints of darkness I hadn’t seen in a while. His jaw clenched. His neck strained. His touch wasn’t as tender. He’s hiding something.

But I’ve had a long day and I’m starving. I’m eating everything I damn well please. If they can’t stay home for dinner, that doesn’t mean I have to wait. Besides, by the time they get back, the baby could be awake and, if I’ve already had my dinner, I can go to sleep.

Not to be testy, but sometimes babies are simply exhausting, even with four adults in the house. Being responsible for another human being is more work than I ever imagined. Keeping my job, on top of that, even at only twenty hours a week, it’s tough. I am grateful to be so blessed.

But, my child is never out of my mind. Every time my guys go off for business, there’s a niggling in the back of my head that it could be the last time I see them.

But for now, I plan on sitting on the couch, my bare feet on the coffee table, listening to my favorite author’s latest audiobook, while I look for the bottom of the mac and cheese container.

With the comforting buzz of the baby monitor in the background, I listen to my book.

When my belly’s finally full, too full, I set my dish aside and relax my head back on the couch, tickled by the fact that my life is almost as good as that of the heroines in romance novels. I mean, how many orgasms did the guys give me while waiting for dinner? I don’t even know.

True to their word, they’re back before long. They couldn’t have been gone more than two hours.

I stop my audiobook, studying them as they enter. Two meetings in one day. Something’s going on.

It’s a weird dichotomy to know people are out there protecting us, but not want to know what they’re actually protecting us from—aside from watching cop shows. Even if they’re real, there’s still a safety that it’s on the television.

But knowing my guys are out there working with law enforcement and the local bikers who also aid law enforcement, I struggle with theignorance is blissmentality.

They walk into the room. Their efforts to casually say hi and ask how the food was feel contrived.

Feliks motions to my empty container and winks then head into the kitchen. They wash their hands before filling plates and joining me in the living room.

The small talk seems forced. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s tension. Then I notice Yulian’s shirt. The spit-up is gone. Actually, it’s a different shirt, I think. Did he change it before he left? Did he change it when he put Maverik to bed? I don’t think so.

Is he favoring his left arm as he positions his plate on his lap? Why would he use his left hand? He’s right-handed. I stare at the shoulder of his shirt. I’m too tired to trust my memory.

“So how did it go?”

“I guess you could say mission accomplished.” Feliks stuffs his mouth.

“What kind of mission?”

“Just helping the cops with the drug ring. But that’s work. We want to be home with you here now and whatever there was in the world for you to worry about before, there’s less to worry about.” Maxim winks at me.

There’s less to worry about.I want a simple life. I want safety and protection and comfort and security. I want that for myself and my son and for our family. Is it that easy? Can I accept his word?

If they’re working with law enforcement, cops can’t let them shoot people, right? This would mean they’ve moved to the new ways of operating and the bad guys can be thrown in jail and held accountable.

Feliks leans over and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Did you try the cheesecake?”

“Not yet.”

He heads to the table and brings the container, offering a forkful to my lips. The sweet scent of raspberries draws my tongue out. Delicious.

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