I close my eyes for a second.
Then I nod, even though he can’t see it.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Go get our son.”
16
NICO
The apartment smells like cheap vodka and cigarette smoke.
I stop just inside the doorway and take it in slowly. Music thumps from someone’s phone on the table. Empty bottles. Ash on the floor. Three strangers I’ve never seen before sitting around the kitchen like they own the place.
Gabby the sitter, I assume, stands near the counter, a cigarette between her fingers.
She freezes when she sees me.
The others follow her gaze. The room goes quiet in a way I know well. The moment when people realize they are standing in the presence of something they don’t understand but instinctively fear.
Good.
“Out,” I say.
My voice is calm. Not loud. It doesn’t need to be.
One of the men scoffs like he might argue. Then he actually looks at me. Looks at the suit. The way I stand. The way I’m already measuring the room and everyone in it.
He grabs his jacket.
The others follow.
No one says another word.
The door closes behind them.
Gabby is still standing there.
“You can’t just—” she starts.
“You’re fired.”
The words come out flat.
Her mouth opens.
“You were hired to care for a child,” I continue. “Instead you turn his home into a bar.”
Her expression shifts from anger to something closer to fear.
“I—I was just?—”
“You will never come near my son or my woman again.”
I step closer. Slowly.
“If you do, I will know.”
The cigarette shakes in her hand.
