Page 49 of Inked in Devotion

Sebastian was awake and fussing at Dora, pounding at her with his toy octopus. I could sleep anywhere and anytime. I could be useful here.

“Dora?”

She glanced at me. “He’s hungry. Can you hold him while I make him a bottle?”

“Maybe it’s time to teach me. It’s just his formula, right?”

“Yes, it’s pretty easy.” Dora lifted Sebastian, and I followed her to the kitchen. “I’m glad you guys remembered to bring over the automatic formula dispenser. It takes the guesswork out of the water temperature.” She nodded at the machine. “The formula and water are already loaded.”

She pointed to where the water bottles were and the importance of sterilization. Then I put it underneath the machine and pushed a button.

“This thing is idiot-proof,” I chuckled.

“And a godsend for nighttime feedings,” Dora said.

“Why don’t you turn in,” I said. “I got him.”

I’d done this part at least during one of my custody visits. Gave Sebastian the bottle while he lay on the bouncy pillow. The little guy didn’t want to be held when he was hungry.

“You sure?” Dora yawned.

“I’m sure.” My usual confidence faltered a bit, but I held Dora’s gaze.

“Just holler if you need me.” She handed Sebastian to me.

My kid tried to grab the bottle from my hand, but I held it away from him. “Easy there, killer.”

He made pitiful baby sounds.

“You’re starving, aren’t you?”

Tears streamed from his eyes and his face was red. Shit. Is he turning purple? I hurried over to his playpen and set him down. What if it wasn’t hunger plaguing him? But as soon as I set him down on the pillow inside his playpen and handed him the bottle, he immediately latched on to it and started sucking.

I sat cross-legged, internally collapsing in relief. Funny how I was used to scoping out a mark and the timelines for a mission. I knew how to end lives, but preserving one? Debatable. I stared at Sebastian happily sucking away on his milk.

I sure as fuck didn’t know Sebastian’s feeding schedule. With the three of us in rotation for his care, I should ask Chloe to stick a note on the fridge. I glanced around the cottage. I’d already tapped into the surveillance and needed to add more cameras once we decided on the room configuration. Dora talked about moving into the main house so we could use her room as a nursery.

My phone lit up from a number I didn’t recognize, but I had a feeling who it was ever since Chloe and I went public.

I’d picked up calls while I was on a job, but I wasn’t multitasking while I was in charge of Sebastian.

When he finished feeding, and I removed the bottle, he burped on his own. He then blinked a few times before his mouth grew slack and then he closed his eyes.

He was asleep.

The phone rang again. I still didn’t answer it. I needed to settle him in his crib.

I lifted Sebastian carefully, careful not to wake him and have him screaming bloody murder. I’d heard him before, and it was more nerve-wracking than defusing a bomb. My boy had lungs in him. I walked stealthily, holding him level, cradling his neck and bottom. When I reached Chloe’s door, I nudged it open and tiptoed into the room. I lowered him into the crib.

I realized I was putting him to bed at night for the first time. I glanced over at Chloe. She was lost to the world and snoring adorably. She was on her back with her right arm crooked at the elbow beside her head.

I went back to the entrance of the cottage where we dropped most of the things we retrieved from the apartment and fished out the baby monitor. This was so basic. I didn’t want to make so many changes while we were in this cottage. I wanted to buy a house for Chloe and Sebastian. They shouldn’t be living in an apartment.

My boy needed a backyard and a playset. Brief amusement passed my lips. Playset? Where did I get that idea? I didn’t grow up with any playset. I remembered hanging off monkey bars at an early age, but somehow I wanted different for my boy. Maybe I wanted him to have the childhood I never had, but also to temper in the training needed to survive in the bratva.

My phone went off again. Goddammit. Clenching my jaw, I walked back to the room and positioned the baby monitor close to the crib, and walked out with the receiver, grabbed my phone, headed to the French doors in the living room, and exited onto the patio.

I waved at one of the night patrols. They knew to keep their distance—twenty feet away from the house.