Page 70 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

I lean back an inch and bring her eyes up to mine. “But what?”

“That’ll be two nights in a row,” she pouts. “It scares me that he’s growing up so fast. I wished away so many years, and now it’s like a locomotive, too heavy to stop, too fast to appreciate. I miss him like I’d miss my own head.”

I press a kiss to the crown of her head. Then another. Then a third as she squeezes me tight and breathes out a sigh. “I’m sorry you’re gonna miss him. But I’m glad he’ll be staying somewhere you know he’ll be good.”

“I know. Me too. I’m just a whiny baby,” she snickers. “He’s my baby, but now everyone wants me to share him. Nobody was offering to share when he wouldn’t sleep for his first year.”

I chuckle at her bitter tone. “This is what happens when we grow up. We make friends and create social circles outside of our moms.” I pull back and press a kiss to her forehead. I’ve broken so many rules already, so what’s one more? “Are you doing a double shift today? What time do you finish?”

“I’m on till close.”

I frown, because I hate that she has to work a fifteen-hour shift on only five hours sleep.

“I really need to move my ass before I end up late again,” she sighs. “I have no clue why Franky tolerates me. I swear, I cause more drama than it’s worth.”

I roll my eyes. “He loves you, that’s why. Now eat your breakfast.” I pull back and drag her toward the stools that line the counter. “You need protein; otherwise you’ll drop.”

“Did you cook this for me?” She tosses the phone onto the counter and watches me plate up the omelet. “Like, for real for me?”

I snort. “For real for you.” I sprinkle a little salt on top, then pick a little parsley from the pot hung above her sink. Placing it carefully in an effort to make her feel fancy, I set the plate down by her clasped hands and lean across the counter to drop a kiss on her lips. “Eat up. You’ve already showered; you smell as fresh as flowers, and you look beautiful. So now you just have to eat, then we can go.”

“We?” She accepts the knife and fork I offer, and cuts into the aromatic dish with feverish hunger. “Why we?”

“Because I need a burger before work. It’s tradition.”

She makes thehuss-huss-husssound when her breakfast sizzles on her tongue, but her smile and dancing eyes remain. “You could have some of my breakfast. Or you could have doubled the batch.”

There weren’t enough eggs, and I’ll be damned if I take the last of her anything. “I want a burger from a pretty waitress. Don’t try to take that away from me, dammit.” I love that she giggles. Shegiggles! And I’m not sure she even realizes it. “I’ve gotta work today too; I have shit to do with Kane, but maybe I’ll drop into the diner later for dinner, too.”

She ducks her head to hide her pleased smile. “I mean, that’d be cool.”

“And since Mac’s out again tonight, maybe I’ll follow you home again.” I wait for her eyes. “Do you think…” My heart races. “Is that something we could do?”

She’s both terrified and exhilarated. Her eyes swim through her emotions: fear, happiness, fear, hope. “Okay. But be cool when you come in for dinner; I’ll let you know if something with Mac changes. If he’s definitely staying with Ben, then… sure.”

“Good deal.” I step around the counter and place both hands on her cheeks. Pulling her up, I press a closemouthed kiss on her lips and smile when I pull away. “I’m going to shower. Be out in a minute.”

* * *

“Who the fuck are you?”Spence stops in front of me and ducks his head low to catch my eyes. I consider myself a tall man, and I feel like a damn mountain when I hold Katrina against my body, but this guy is seven feet tall, and no one can compete with that. He clicks his fingers in my face and narrows his eyes. “What happened to the miserable prick we all know?”

“Leave him alone.” Kane moves through the office with a scowl. “Stop taunting him.”

“But, Bish… he’s being weird.”

“I’m not being weird!” I push him back, sit back, and drop my feet on the corner of my desk. “I’m allowed to smile sometimes.”

“I mean, theoretically, that’s correct.”

Spence took a knife to the face a few years back during a bar fight that went bad. He was active duty army, the special ops kind, where he was in danger every damn day of his life, but it was a pussy in a bar who didn’t like Spencer swooping in and taking a girl.

I mean, fair play, because she was with the other dude to start with, but Spence didn’t force her onto his cock. He crooked a finger and invited her over, and as all girls do, she hitched her skirt up and gave him what he wanted. Her boyfriend took issue with the situation, got sloppy drunk while he watched them walk to a private room, and by the time they came back, the booze in his blood had him feeling brave. He pulled out a filthy blade and swiped out so my friend now bears jagged scars over his brow and cheek, and more yet on his forearm, from where he brought it up or risk losing an eye.

That man wasn’t dealt with by the police… but he was dealt with, and now Spence bears scars that essentially numb a part of his face. When he lifts his brows quizzically, only one moves. And when he scrubs his face in frustration, the pink scar on his cheek turns white.

He’s vain, in that he knows he’s handsome and loves the attention he receives from women. And his scarring never changed that; now the women think it’s endearing, and he tells the story of the time he saved that chick from an abusive relationship.

Lying prick.

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