Page 21 of Broken

Gabby squeezes my hand. I can feel her nails biting into my skin. She doesn’t argue with me, though—which is a good thing.

“Are you her …?”

He leaves his question open-ended. Idonot. “Yeah, man. I am.”

“I thought this was a single rental,” he counters.

I can feel the resistance in Gabby until this asshole says that. Then she leans into me. “I don’t remember a question on the rental application about if I was dating anyone, only if I had children. Which I was very upfront about, I believe,” she responds.

He looks back at her, resignation on his face. “You’re right, of course. It was just … a surprise,” he responds, not looking us in the eye. However, I see it. He looks at Gabby and then at me. I see the disgust written all over his face. It’s nothing new. People look at the color of my skin and don’t like seeing me near someone with Gabby’s coloring. In response, I smirk at him, daring the motherfucker to say anything. I see the minute fear trembles through him and my smirk turns into a full-fledged grin. “As I said over the phone, I will need a month’s rent and the safety deposit.”

“I have a check ready,” Gabby answers right away. She reaches into a purse she has hanging from her shoulder across her stomach and resting on her hip. She pulls out a check and hands it to him. “I’m actually paying three months in advance. With the baby coming soon, I’m not sure how hectic things will be,” she explains. The pride she has is hard to miss. Hell, she should be proud. I sure am. Gabby’s pregnant, holding down a job and getting on her feet with practically zero help. Scratchthat. She’s not getting any. They may have given her a place to stay at the club, but she worked in the kitchen there and helped with cleaning. She did this even after working all day at the diner. No one asked her to do that shit either. She demanded it.

“Well, with that, I guess I can give you the keys. I was going to show you around once more, but it appears you have someone with you to help you with that.”

“Yes.She does.” I say at once, not liking this guy’s vibe whatsoever. I’d like to introduce his smug face to my fist. The only reason I haven’t is because I know that would keep Gabby from having her own place and she’s too happy to allow that. If there’s a woman around who deserves happiness right now, it’d definitely be Gabby.

“King,” Gabby admonishes quietly. “Thank you, Mick. I truly appreciate all your kindness.”

“We’ll talk soon,” he says, sparing me a glance. He’s at least smart enough to give me a wide berth as he walks out into the drive.

“You just make friends wherever you go. Don’t you, King?” Gabby hisses.

I look down at her, smiling and enjoying her temper. “Woman, that guy is a grade-A asshole.”

“He’s been really nice to me,” she argues.

“Of course he has. He wants in your pants.”

Her mouth drops open, then she looks at me like she can’t believe what I said. “You’re crazy!”

“No, I’m not. That fucking asshole was undressing you in his mind from the moment you stepped out of the truck.”

“He was not! Oh my God, King, you need therapy.”

“Gabby, he was!” I insist.

“I’m almost seven months pregnant, King!”

“So?”

“So? Men do not hit on women who are seven months pregnant.”

“Wrong, Sunshine. They do when that woman looks like you and doesn’t have a man at her side.”

“A woman that looks like me? You mean someone who looks permanently tired, and like she has swallowed a watermelon and couldn’t digest it? And while we’re having this discussion. Stop calling me Sunshine. I don’t like it.”

“Gabby, when is the last time that you looked in the mirror? Also, I’m not going to stop calling you Sunshine. It fits you.”

“It doesn’t! And unfortunately, I look in the mirror daily. So, yes, I know what I look like, and I know I’m not the kind of girl a man looks at twice—especially being heavily pregnant.”

“Okay, then, in this case, you don’t get a vote.”

“Huh?” she squeaks, completely confused.

“Whatever place you’re operating from in that brain of yours, it’s not seeing correctly. Therefore, you can’t have a vote in this. I’m a man. He’s questionable, but I’m thinking he has a dick since it’s clear he wants to stick it into you. That means I’m the expert vote and trust me, that man wants in your pants.”

She gives me a look that I’m pretty sure is designed to kill me dead. Lucky for me, it doesn’t. I watch as she opens the door to her new home and walks inside. I look around, frowning. It’s not a bad place, but it doesn’t look like somewhere I’d want to bring my baby home to. The room we walk into appears to be a living room. The walls are painted a red color that would hurt your eyes. At least the flooring looks relatively new. It’s a gray floating floor. There’s no furniture in the room and that makes me frown. I don’t remark on it, though. I’m not going to tap down on her excitement. There are two open doorways in the room. One is straight ahead and just peering through it appears it leads into a kitchen. The other doorway is to the right, and it leads into a hallway.

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