Thank fuck I’d already killed Davison. How could he stand there and allow that to happen?
Dima’s already putting out phone calls, inquiring about the man Marissa pimped Daisy out to. He’ll be dealt with accordingly and trust me—it’ll be slow and painful.
If Daisy endured pain throughout her life, I know it pales in comparison to the final twenty-four hours of it. She arrived at the hospital, her body scarred and bloody. The doctor cut her open to get her daughter out.
The baby is fragile. A tiny little thing. But she’s alive and fierce if her introduction into the world is anything to go by.
I forced Russet into the shower, picked out her clothes and made her eat something. Every word out of her mouth was a demand to see the baby.
I wanted to say no. To tell her to shut the fuck up and stand in the corner until her meeting with Ren.
But this woman—this aggravating woman—shot down every motherfucker that stood between her and Daisy, just so this tiny baby had a shot at life.
So I took Russet to the hospital. It wasn’t for her. Or even Daisy. It was for this little creature, newly arrived in the world.
Russet’s face crumpled, her cheeks shining pink with trapped emotion.
I can’t understand the depth of what she’s feeling, but I’d be lying if staring at the tiny thing didn’t pull on my own heartstrings.
Unfortunately for me, the muscle in my chest is raw. The whole thing’s been trampled on and chewed up because like a fucking idiot I gave it away to my wife.
“Go,” I tell Russet.
Her brow quirks and she casts a sad eye toward me. I show nothing, nodding to Fujimori’s.
“Look on the upside,” Elijah says. “The foods great.”
Roma elbows him. We’re standing across the street at the curb, a black SUV parked. Ren said no dinner guests. She didn’t say anything about stalkers.
Even Roma agreed to come. He keeps his hands shoved into his pockets and sad longing stretches across his face. But he’s right beside me, my twin brother.
He nods reassuringly to Russet, who glances at me one more time.
I remain as I always have—the stone-faced bastard. I jerk my head at the restaurant telling her to go.
She crosses the street, the bell over the door chiming.
“Hold steady, brother.” Elijah’s in his three-piece suit. He’s even got a pocket square, the fucking wanker.
I won’t forget any time soon, how she called him beforegoing into Marissa’s. How she trusted Elijah to call the Ghost. How they were her two preferred allies instead of me.
“This is fucking dumb and you know it.” I shove my hands in my pockets.
Russet stands in the entryway and I don’t have to see her face to know her awe. Her head swivels. She speaks to the hostess and then on steady feet walks forward.
Ren’s favorite booth is too far back to see. It’s tucked away, near the kitchen.
“It’s fine, she’s got this,” Roma murmurs.
It’s not Russet I’m worried about. “Who the fuck knows what’s going on with your girlfriend.”
Roma’s shoulders tighten. As far as I know, they haven’t spoken once in the past three years.
But he’s here all the same and I’m willing to bet it’s not just so he can keep an eye on Russet.
We stand by the curb. The hostess has a clear view of us since she stands by the window. She never once looks our way. She wipes off menus. Speaks to waiters. Smiles and waves goodbye at a customer.
I glance at my watch. It’s taking too long.
