Page 179 of Brutal Collateral

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Ava

“Ireally like yoursister,” I say, during the slog of a drive home from the Upper West Side hospital where Sabine had her baby. A beautiful boy they named Aiden Ewan Hart.

“Sabine likes you, too. I can tell,” Griffin chuckles. “Did you see the look on Ewan’s face finding out he’s the godfather?”

“That was a very sweet moment.” I squeeze Griffin’s hand.

What a character my sister-in-law is. Her accent is thicker than my husband’s! The new mom looked amazing and was already walking around. She didn’t look heavily pregnant before and didn’t look like a nine-pound screaming baby came out of her hours ago.

My hand keeps finding my stomach. I wonder how I’ll carry and look afterward. Something tells me Griffin won’t care if I gain weight or don’t lose it right away.

“Did Ewan really try to kill Grayson?” I was shocked to hear that story as part of the request for him to be the godfather.

Griffin clears his throat. “Um, yeah. Ewan sort of threatened him.”

Those Quinlan brothers were tough customers as far as who they wanted for their sister. Grayson is abillionaire.

A stab of exhaustion hits me just when Griffin’s townhouse comes into view.

He follows my gaze. “Are you happy in this house? Do you want to buy something else? Something you can pick out and feel like it’s yours?”

I shrug. “You didn’t live here too much longer than me. I feel like we grew into the place together.”

“I feel the same way. I like the house. A lot.” He smiles warmly at it.

And yet, he’ll move for me.

“I like it, too,” I say, leaning against his shoulder in the backseat. “Maybe in a few days we’ll consider which bedroom to make into a nursery?”

The air seems to leave Griffin’s lungs. “Wow. This is real.”

I suspect most first-time dads are nervous and tend to freak out. “I’ll make an appointment to see a doctor now that this is out of the way. I’ll ask Isabella for a recommendation. My last gyno visit was on a warship by a navy nurse practitioner.”

The Escalade stops and Griffin opens his door, not wanting his guards to do it.

“I’m coming with you.” He squeezes my hand and helps me out of the car. “That’s not up for discussion.”

As we step toward the house, Zeke emerges from the SUV’s front passenger seat. “We’re doing our foot patrol up and down the block, boss,” Zeke says to Griffin about his and Ace’s nightly routine.

He and other guards rotate an overnight shift in the house each night. Without exception.

“Fine,” Griffin says.

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