Page 69 of Blackout-

There was a blue and white patrol car parked across the street from my house just like Jack said there would be and because I had no fucking luck whatsoever, it was also the first thing Lacey noticed. So much for procrastinating. The second we got in the house the questions started flying out of her mouth. Now here, I am pacing the living room trying to remember everything I planned to say to her.

“I thought you said it was safe to come home,” she says, peering out the window. “They’re still outside.”

“They’re going to be there for a while,” I tell her, releasing a ragged breath.

Dropping the curtain, her eyes flit to mine and her composure seemingly crumbles as the silence stretches between us. There is no easy way to ever tell your woman you fucked up and these days it seems as if that’s all I’m telling Lacey. I’ve run out of ways to address all the problems I’ve created and the monologue I rehearsed earlier, ain’t gonna cut it either. With no other choice, I gotta fly without a script and hope she don’t fucking hate me afterwards or worse go off the rails.

“Lacey, come sit down,” I say as I reach behind me and squeeze the back of my neck.

Sensing the tension and hearing the unease in my voice, she cautiously crosses the room.

“If I have to sit down for you to tell me why there are cops camping out across the street, it’s safe to assume I’m not going to like anything you have to say, am I?” she questions, taking a seat on the couch. Looking at me expectantly, her fingers curl against the denim covering her thighs. I can tell by the distant look in her brown eyes that her maker might be calling to her. If I had to guess, the vile bitch is filling her pretty little head with all kinds of grim thoughts, probably telling her I hit the bottle or ripped a line.

“No, you’re not,” I rasp, dropping my ass onto the coffee table. Leaning my elbows on my knees, I continue to stare at her. Being Jack’s daughter has always made Lacey an easy target. Once she became my wife, well, she became a goddamn bullseye and therefore I rarely discussed club business with her. Now, I have no choice and don’t know where the fuck to begin.

Deciding to go with the first thing that comes to mind, I begin to recap what she already knows.

“I told you I went to Christine’s grave and was drinking the night before I got shot,” I start, pausing to gauge her reaction. Her eyes move towards my shoulder and I watch as she flinches.

“I was still fucked up when your father called and ordered me to a paper factory downtown,” I continue as her eyes jump back to mine. “We were meeting with the Sinaloa cartel, hoping to iron out a deal that would keep Bas’ old lady and her kid safe.”

Confusion mars her features as she holds up a hand and stops me from saying any more.

“Blackie why are you telling me any of this?”

Frustrated, I sigh and drop my hands to the edge of the coffee table. My jaw locks as I grip it.Why am I telling her any of this?I guess the reason I’m telling her this is because for her to understand where we are, she needs to know how we got here.

“Just let me talk,” I plead, flexing my fingers against the edge of the wooden table. Blowing out a breath, she rolls her eyes and leans her back against the cushions of the couch.

“Go ahead but I’m not really sure what any of this has to do with the two fucking cops camped outside our home.”

Ignoring her impatience, I grit my teeth and continue.

“Things went south and gunfire broke out. One of the guys went to shoot your father and I jumped in front of him. The bullet hit me and before I went down, I dropped my gun.”

The annoyance fades from her features as her eyes widen.

“Hold on,” she stammers, pushing off the couch, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits. “Someone goes to shoot my father and you what—become a human shield?”

Confused by her sudden outburst, I cross my arms against my chest and shrug my shoulders.

“Why are you pretending like this is news? It’s my fucking job to protect your father.”

Visibly angry, she stands up and looks down at me.

“Excuse me for thinking things might change now that you’re going to be a father.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, Blackie, maybe I’m overreacting, but there’s gotta be a time and place where you think about your child and being a father instead of jumping in front of a bullet and making yourself a target for anyone.”

I open my mouth to argue but she shakes her head and pokes a finger against my good shoulder.

“No, I’m not finished,” she sneers, her eyes ablaze with unbridled fury. “Don’t give me that bullshit excuse that it’s your job. Your job should no longer consist of this cop and robbers nonsense. Your first priority, your first fucking thought, should be me and this baby, not being a fucking human shield.”

Rising from the coffee table, I stand over her, balling my fists, ready to fucking explode. This wasn’t how I imagined this conversation going. I don’t know if that makes me an asshole or what, but I didn’t expect her to turn on me before I even admitted my faults.

Not cowering under my glare, she crosses her arms against her chest and cocks her chin towards the window.

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