He had a point. "You know what I mean."
Noah stepped in from the hall. "The guard at the gate says they're here."
Clasping my hands in front of me, I felt them trembling. It had been less than a week since I'd seen him, but so much had happened. I couldn't help worrying Finn would somehow sense I was now a killer. Nothing had changed, yet everything had.
Noah opened the door, and we watched the SUV pull up the circular drive to the front of the house, but I was down the steps before Levi could get out and open the back door for me. Wrenching open the door, I beamed down at my son. He kicked his legs against his seat, reaching for me with a gurgle.
"Mama!"
I almost couldn't see the car seat straps because of the tears pouring from my eyes, but I unbuckled him and hugged him fiercely. Picking him up was a struggle, and pain tore through my torso at my efforts. Then Burke was beside me, wrapping his good arm around us both and helping to support Finn's weight.
"Dada."
I gladly handed him over to his father and let Levi grab the diaper bag from the back of the car.
Logan emerged from the driver's seat and stood near us, his hands in his pockets. "He was a little sad to leave Brenda and Danny, but he did fine on the ride home."
"I can’t thank you enough for keeping them safe, Logan," I said with emotion distorting my voice.
After nodding at Logan, Burke gave Finn a kiss. "Let's go inside, mo mhac. It's still chilly yet."
Finn's response was a drool-filled smile.
At the front door, Burke put him on his feet and held his hands to steady him, letting him guide us into the house. We reached the living room, and Finn plopped down, crawling for his toys.
"See, not affected at all."
Burke was right, of course. Finn was happy as ever, pulling himself up and shuffling from one toy to the next. I sat on the floor nearby, and Burke joined me, holding my hand. Finally, my heart was at peace.
"Finny, what do you have?" I asked when he picked up his favorite toy.
Turning, he held out the plastic duck to show me. To my astonishment, he took a step in my direction, letting go of the coffee table and wobbling toward us.
"Oh!" I popped my hand over my mouth to keep in the next word.
"Can I see it, Finn?" Burke extended his palm, and Finn walked three steps until he grabbed Burke's hand.
"Good job!" I praised him. Finn bounced his knees, grinning like he'd won a prize.
I wiped tears off my face; here was a rare and precious moment in time, when nothing waited for our attention other than our son. There were no pressing matters to tend to, no one waiting to gun us down. Our family could bask in one of those quiet moments I often yearned for in the midst of the chaos. I prayed the peace would last for a long time. We’d earned it.
51
Burke
I examined the great room, noting the decorations the ladies in my life had hung. Streamers of every color fluttered from the ceiling beams. Balloons bobbed on their tethers, attached to the tables and chairs. The cake Parker made was so big it gave the illusion of sinking the middle of the table on which it sat. Presents stacked higher than my son's head were decked out in ribbons, bows, and bright paper covered in cheerful patterns. Finn was a year old, and I couldn't help reminiscing about all that had happened since the first time I ran into Kinsley at the hospital in Chester, Connecticut.
The receptionist had started flirting with me the minute I asked for information on my grandmother. It was something I was accustomed to, especially back then. Women either knew precisely who I was and thought the danger surrounding me was exciting, or they assumed I had money based on my manner of dress. The frizzy-haired woman vanished from my field of vision as Kinsley came through the doors with a blast of the heaters, bringing my attention to the distress on her face. Obviously, something was wrong, but that wasn't unusual in such a setting.
It was her large brown eyes and the lush fall of her long mahogany hair that first caught my attention. Her lashes were wet from crying, her face flushed and her throat long and creamy. I wanted to talk to her, to fix everything wrong in the universe if there was a chance it would make her smile. It seemed as if I would give anything to be the cause of her lips curving in happiness. Compelled to follow her, I joined her in the elevator, thinking there was no way she'd turn me down. No one did.
From the beginning, it was clear she was different. She didn't meet my gaze, barely spoke above a whisper, and turned me down each time I offered help. Not one to back down from a challenge, I persisted in trying to get her to open up to me. I thought I'd found my chance when she collapsed in front of the vending machine, but I couldn't have been more wrong.
Dinner with Kinsley was a massive departure from the vapid women of my past—she was witty, interesting to speak with, and quietly intelligent. Though she was wary of me and knew my status, she didn't treat me differently than she would anyone else. She assumed I planned to seduce her and leave and, unfortunately, that's exactly what I ended up doing.
Since the first time I had the pleasure of losing myself inside her body, much had transpired. So many people schemed to keep us apart that I often felt it was a miracle I had Kinsley and Finn in my life. Every morning and every night, I counted my blessings, knowing I'd never take such an abundance for granted again.
When Kinsley walked through the doorway from the hall, I never felt as lucky in my entire life. Her hair was half up, her navy sweater dress hugged her voluptuous curves, and her skin glowed. As she drew nearer, my breath caught in my throat and I extended my arms in her direction.
