Page 48 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

She twists around a little to find Elyssa, who’s walking a few feet behind us. I resist the urge to check on her, too.

The baby starts fidgeting in the brunette’s grasp. “Hey now, little cherub,” she coos fondly. “Your mama is right here. I’ve got you, okay?” She flicks her gaze up to me. “Don’t you want to know his name?”

“No.”

She glances at Elyssa again, as though she’s worried her friend might have heard. Then she lowers her voice. “Don’t be a fucking asshole.”

The baby starts crying and she’s forced to turn her attention back to him. “Hush now, handsome. We’re almost there.”

“I think your face is scaring him,” I point out.

She glares at me with her one good eye just as the infant devolves into a full-on cry.

“Charity, you can give him back to me,” Elyssa calls up.

“Charity?” I scoff. “That’s a fucking joke.”

“It’s not a joke; it’s my name,” she snaps. “And it’s a good one.”

“You think so?” I drawl. “Doesn’t really suit you.”

Elyssa joins us and takes the baby back. The moment her hands are free, Charity flips me the bird.

Smirking, I adjust Murray slightly, ignoring the growing ache in my shoulder as I guide us back onto the main road and come to a halt behind a manicured hedge.

This street is relatively quiet, but I don’t want to linger in the open any longer than necessary. You never know who’s watching you in the Las Vegas night.

“What are we waiting for?” Charity asks when I stop walking.

“My ride.”

I drop Murray roughly to the ground and crack my back, thankful to be rid of the fucker for at least a few moments.

“Ourride,” she corrects quickly, as though to remind me that I’ve committed to taking them along.

I’m about to make some flippant comment, but I take one look at Elyssa and stop myself. She’s holding the baby tightly and he’s quieted down. One of his chubby little fists clings to the front of her dark blue t-shirt. It’s a couple of sizes too big for her, but somehow it suits her perfectly. He’s pulling the neckline down enough to expose the gentle curve of her cleavage.

“She’s not a piece of meat, you know,” Charity says quietly, noticing where my eyes have fallen.

I grit my teeth and turn to her. “I’d watch my words if I were you. You’re very close to being left by the roadside.”

She smiles. “I bet I can convince you otherwise.”

“First of all, I’m not that kind of guy,” I tell her straight. “And second, even if I were, you’re in no fit state to bargain on your looks right now. You look like hell warmed over.”

“What ‘kind of guy’ is that?” she inquires innocently.

I’m conscious of Elyssa watching us, but she’s standing far enough away that I’m confident she can’t hear the conversation. “The kind of guy who gets his head turned by a perky pair of tits.”

“Oh yeah? Then how do you explain the night you met Elyssa?”

I have to bite back a wry laugh. This woman can certainly hold her own. But even with all her feistiness and misplaced anger towards me, it’s easier to focus on her than on the blonde and the baby right behind me. Those two are an enigma I cannot let consume me.

Not now. Not yet.

“What happened to you?” I ask instead of answering her question.

“Long story.”

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