Page 32 of Bossy Surprise Baby

I didn’t think I could talk to anyone about it. Fuck, I could barely wrap my head around the fact that someone sent me a picture of what looked like a grown-up Toby.

Except it couldn’t be Toby because Toby was dead. Because of me. Because I’d gotten him involved in all this bullshit and hadn’t protected him when it mattered.

“Let’s just fucking get back to it,” I said.

Meech shook his head firmly.

“Put your hands up.”

“Nah.” He started ripping off his gloves with his teeth, speaking through them. “If I’m going to kick your ass, I want to do it fair and square, not when you’ve got your head somewhere else. Now, tell me what’s bothering you. Is it your old manager?”

At the mention of the bastard, I glanced at Meech again. He still had connections in the underground and knew what happened where Toby had been killed. He also knew a lot more fucking people than I did. Maybe he would know what to do with the picture of grown-up Toby.

“I got a text yesterday,” I said.

“A text? From who?”

“I dunno. But the person had a picture of Toby, and he was all grown up.”

Meech frowned. “Toby? As in, little Toby?” Toby and Meech had only crossed paths on a few occasions, but I knew he wouldn’t forget him.

“You know any other Toby?”

“But I thought Toby was….” He didn’t finish the sentence, which annoyed me more than if he’d just completed it.

“Dead? Yeah.”

Meech frowned even deeper. “So, who the fuck sent the picture?”

“If I knew who it was, do you think I would still be here?”

My snarl had him raising his hands defensively.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Did you call the number?”

“Yeah. No answer,” I told him. And that was the part that drove me crazy because the bastard just dropped the picture of Toby and then dipped.

“It’s probably someone messing with you.”

Mmhm, that was my first thought too. I thought it was probably a fake picture or something, so much so that I got it printed out and then pored over it again and again, trying to notice anything odd.

And the more I looked at it, the more torturous it was.

Nothing screamed fake about the picture.

The boy looked like Toby, an older version with the same mole on the neck and the same shining blue gaze.

Same sadness in his eyes.

Excerpt this time, he wasn’t counteracting it with a smile.

Fuck, what the hell was going on? Was I wrong? Was Toby alive?

Was he the one sending me these pictures to torture me?

No. I didn’t think Toby would do that. Not that I didn’t deserve it, but he wasn’t the type to do it. If he were mad at me, he would do it to my face.

Distantly, I heard the knock on the door and heard Meech go to answer it. While he was gone, I got out of the ring and headed to the brand-new boxing bag, punching it. I needed to let out the tension in some way.

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