Page 95 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 4

I was prepared for every single word.

Why did you bring me here?

“Because Amai Landry’s world is a graveyard, Truth. He executed a woman in front of her son on an open pier. He has snipers on roofs and blood on his hands that will eventually reach our daughter. I brought you here so your nervous system could finally rest.”

You stole Amai’s child!

“Amai didn’t build her alone. Elias and Silas died for this family’s sins, and my son was consumed in your womb to give this little girl life. She carries my brother’s blood and my lost boy’s spirit. I am not letting Amai raise her to be another casualty in his war.”

Let me go right now!

“I will. The second Amai searches the Gulf, realizes you aren’t in New Orleans, and moves his focus elsewhere. Once the heat dies down and you realize you can sleep through the night without checking the window locks, we can sail to the Caribbean, to Europe, anywhere you want. But right now, leaving means going back into the kill zone.”

I hate you!

“You don’t hate me, baby. You hate that I’m the only one who loved you enough to pull you out of the fire.”

Her anger wouldn’t be rejection. It would be a detox. The poison leaving her system.

I closed the binder, resting my hand flat on the cool leather.

Patience was the only weapon that mattered now.

I wasn’t going to pull her out while she was in the middle of her nursing coursework. Truth had fought too hard, bled too much pride, and studied through morning sickness and labor contractions to have her degree stolen from her. She wanted to be a registered nurse. She wanted that pin, that license, that proof that she had rebuilt her life out of the dirt Phillip left her in.

I respected her too much to rob her of that milestone.

I would wait.

She had clinical rotations three days a week. In four months, she would graduate. Within six weeks of graduation, she would sit for her NCLEX exam at the testing center downtown.

On the day she finished that test—the exact moment she stepped out of that testing center with her future secured and her mind finally free of school—I would extract her and the baby.

A clean break. A new beginning.

I walked into the dining area as the late afternoon sun began to dip below the tree line, sending long, amber rays through the tinted glass.

In the center of the room was a round, polished walnut table.

It was set for three.

On my side was a white porcelain plate, heavy silver flatware, and a crystal tumbler. Across from me was an identical place setting, positioned right next to a small, hand-carved oak highchair fitted with a soft pink leather cushion. In front of the highchair was a tiny silver baby spoon and an engraved silver cup with Trumai etched in elegant script across the front.

I pulled out my chair and sat down, pouring two fingers of bourbon into my glass.

The liquid burned smooth going down my throat, warming my chest in the hypnotic crash of the waves against the boat.

“Good evening, baby,” I said aloud, my voice steady, rich, and calm in the empty room.

I looked across the table at the empty chair where Truth would sit.

“I know you’re tired from clinicals,” I continued, smiling softly as I rested my elbows on the dark wood. “You worked a twelve-hour shift at the medical center, but dinner’s already warm in the warming drawers. Pan-seared redfish with crawfish étouffée over jasmine rice. Exactly how your mama makes it, except I didn’t let the roux burn.”

I looked over at the highchair, my chest swelling with a warmth so deep it felt like an ache.

“And look at you, little girl,” I whispered, tilting my head. “Big eyes just like your mama. Tracking every sound in the room. You’re going to take your first steps right down that hallway. We’ll put a little gate by the stairs, so you don’t tumble, but you’ll have the whole deck to run on. You’ll never hear a gunshot. You’ll never see a man bleed out on a carpet. You’re going to know what a father looks like when he isn’t carrying a weapon under his jacket.”

I took another slow sip of bourbon, staring out at the golden water rippling against the hull.