Page 108 of Blackout-

“I would’ve come with you,” he murmurs. “You know, so you weren’t alone.”

I know he means well, but Nico and I aren’t exactly best friends. If anything, our friendship is just finding its footing and truthfully, he’d be the last person I want accompanying me to the gynecologist.

“That would’ve been weird,” I tell him. “But thank you for offering.”

“Anything you need, I’m there. All you gotta do is call.”

“Why?”

He shrugs.

“Why not? We’re friends, Lacey, and where I come from friends help one another.”

That may be true but in the back of my head, I can still hear him confess that he once had a crush on me. It may be presumptuous to think he still does but relying on Nico makes me feel as if I’m taking advantage of that. I might hate my husband right now and I may never forgive him for what he’s done to us, but I would never allow another man to fill his shoes in his absence. Especially when it comes to our child.

“Shit,” he mutters, slapping his hands to his knees. “I’ve gotta get out of here. I promised Riggs I’d swing by Kate’s and help train the new girl he hired before hitting the hay. Do you have any idea why your father is sending me to the airport at the ass crack of dawn?”

Befuddled, I lose my train of thought. I have no idea why my father would send him to the airport. The only people due to fly anytime soon are my mother and stepfather and while they all get along; I doubt my father would send Nico to pick them up if they had changed their flight.

“Forget it,” he says, rising to his feet. “He wouldn’t have clued you in either. We’re all just Jack Parrish’s minions.”

This is true.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” he says. “Thanks for hanging out with me for a little. I needed to get that off my chest.”

“Anytime,” I reply, motioning to the ice cream. “Thanks for the ice cream.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he says with a wink. “That and pretending.”

I smile.

I suppose there is no harm in that.

Chapter Forty-Three

Blackie

There aretwo types of church. The first is a sacred place of worship, somewhere you go to repent your sins and be one with the good Lord. I’d like to tell you I’m a frequent visitor, but the truth is God severed his relationship with me a long time ago and no amount of Our Father’s or Hail Mary’s will change that.

The second isn’t a holy sanctuary of any kind. It’s a lair where sinners kneel for the Devil and beg for his mercy. A place one goes when their soul is black. Nothing is off limits. No crime too severe. No act of violence too brutal. A place where death and destruction are your rites of passage.

As soon as the cocksucker opened the cell and declared he was taking me to church, I knew I was headed to hell and my defenses went on high alert. My knuckles whitened as my fists curled at my sides. As curious as I was, I didn’t ask questions or put up a fight. I took my fucking sentence like a man and followed the guard down the cell block.

Soon the sound of the inmates hollering and banging on the bars faded, and I was led down a narrow hallway. It reeked of urine, feces and well, fucking death. My mouth grew dry, and I felt my pulse quicken. The guard passed me off to another one, and he slowly unlocked a fireproof door. With a jerk of his head, he silently ordered me to enter the darkened room.

I stepped inside and swallowed the bile rising in my throat as I glanced around the torture chamber. The concrete walls were stained with blood and the floor acted like a fucking toilet.

“Il Padrino will be with you shortly, Petra,” the guard said.

I turned to look at him, but he slammed the door before I got the chance.

“Shit,” I muttered as a pang of dread churned in my gut. I didn’t know why I was there or who was behind it. All I knew was that I was about to have my fucking ass handed to me. My blood was about to splatter across these walls and my bodily fluids would likely join the ones drying on the floor. Death and destruction were imminent and the only thing I could think about…the only thing I could see was Lacey’s face as it flashed before my eyes. Instantly, regret filled my veins as all the ways I failed her ate away at my conscience.

It’s funny how a man can ruin his life and continuously self-destruct yet at the end he forgets all of that. Instead of trying to ruin himself, he wishes for more. More time. More chances. More everything. It doesn’t matter that he knows he’ll make a mess of things if given the opportunity. The heart wants what the heart wants and in that moment my heart wants my wife. Maybe I’m destined to keep hurting her but where there is pain, there is so much fucking love and all I wanted out of life was to love her.

I guess it’s true what they say, you really have to hit rock bottom to open your fucking eyes. Sadly, for some rock bottom is the end. There is no second chance. No opportunity to repent. As I glance around the room searching for a means to defend myself, I realize I’m one of the unfortunate ones. The only weapon I have against my faceless enemy is my fists. I have gotten myself out a lot of jams, but this is do or die. If I fail, I’ll likely never see Lacey or our baby again. Forget the charges against me and the possible long-term sentence that will keep me here. I’ll be dead and I don’t believe in the fucking afterlife. When they drag my bloody body out of this fucking room, that’s it.

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