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  “Hairy moat of desire! I’ve got a bun in the oven! Motherfucker!” She clamped her hand over her evil mouth, then switched to cover her stomach. “Sorry, baby!”

  And then she realized those were the first words she’d spoken to her child. She sat down slowly, folding her legs crisscross, and lifted her shirt.

  Her stomach looked the same. She gently touched the skin, still marred with bruises from the fertility shots. It worked. My God, it worked.

  She hadn’t heard him coming home, and when Cole’s hand covered hers, she gasped. Her tears were unchecked as she met his serious eyes.

  “Really?” he whispered.

  She held up the positive pregnancy test and nodded, freeing more of her tears to flow.

  “May I pray?” Cole copied her sitting position.

  “Of course.” Kyle touched his face while he spoke.

  “Lord, you’ve blessed this womb with our love. In it, guarded by a mother’s protection, our child will come to us. We ask that you bless this baby and see fit to give us our very own angel.”

  They said “Amen” together, and their Saturday evening was spent on the floor—dinner forgotten, housework left undone. They were finally allowed to hope, allowed to predict. The baby would have his eyes, of course. And Kyle’s fire because there was no dodging that bullet. And she’d have to clean up her mouth; that went without saying. Their baby would be loved. Epically, unfailingly. That went without saying as well.

  As promised, on Sunday evening Eve met Ryan for their first official/fake/undercover date. They’d already argued. When they’d made plans the day before, he insisted on picking her up. She’d said it was ridiculous for him to drive to Mahopac. No one wanted to date a girl living in a hotel, which, sadly, was her at the moment. But she’d also refused to wait for him at her father’s place. In the end he’d picked her up at the mall. It felt very high school.

  Now, as she rode with him in the truck, she found him in a ridiculously good mood. Trying to snap him back to business, as they pulled up at the restaurant, she told him to get ready because they needed to show some affection in public.

  “Should I take off my pants?” He pretended to unbutton his jeans.

  “Not that fast, Trigger.” After they got out of the car, she grabbed his hand and smiled up at him. “Is this okay?”

  “My body is ready.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  After the hostess took their name, Eve pulled him into the corner of the restaurant’s foyer to wait for their table. She touched his chin and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. She pulled back immediately and swallowed, because cop man was a good kisser. His lips were soft, and he bit one after she pulled away.

  “That did not suck.” He squeezed her hand and reached around her waist to pull her closer. “If you were really mine? Well…never mind.”

  She hugged him and whispered in his ear. “Careful. I’m fatal.” He needed to remember that warning.

  He whispered back, holding her hair so she couldn’t squirm away. “Jesus. It’s like you said that directly to my balls.”

  She laughed so hard at his unexpected reply. He smiled down at her and ran his hand through his hair.

  “I wish I knew if that was a real laugh or not.” He tilted his head.

  Just then she had a flash: standing in a restaurant, hugging a handsome man, a good man. This could have been her future, her now. She grimaced and looked away. The hostess called their names, and Eve deliberately turned her back on Ryan as she followed her through the restaurant.

  At their table, Ryan pulled out her chair and Eve sat, rolling her eyes. He waited until they’d ordered their drinks before commenting.

  “Rolling your eyes? What, a man can’t treat his date like a lady?” He snapped his napkin open and set it on his lap.

  “It just seems out of date. A little sexist.” Eve opened her menu.

  “So that’s how it is for you? No problem. I’ll dude-bro you until you bust out with some fluffy chest hair.” He pointed at her chest.

  “Anything important you need to share?” Accepting her drink from the waitress, Eve tried to not see his crestfallen face. Reality was clearly not a welcome guest at the table.

  “After some digging I found a guy who’s on parole who had some extensive surgery on his hand. His favorite genre of shit seems to be harassment and racketeering. Son of a bitch was in an altercation in jail too, so I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before we can pick him up for something again.”

  “Does he hang out with anyone in particular?” A lead on the men who hurt her father would be personally, as well as professionally, useful.

  “He’s running with a few different crowds.” Ryan seemed reluctant to say more. Perhaps he could sense her penchant for vigilante justice. “I’ll keep an eye out for him.” He smiled encouragingly. “Also, I was approached yesterday and offered payment in exchange for delivering information. I wanted to slap some cuffs on that slimy bastard.” Ryan licked his lips as the bread basket arrived.

  “Describe the contact.”

  As soon as he got to the part about “kind of fishy eyes,” Eve knew Shark was the messenger. They spent the rest of the meal speculating and plotting. Damned if they weren’t starting to make a great team.

  On Friday evening, an approximately five-weeks-pregnant Kyle burped her nephew as Livia stirred her homemade sauce. They were about to partake in a nice plate of spaghetti and a glass of wine, and Kyle felt ready to explode. She’d been dying to tell Livia her news, but part of her was also afraid to talk about it. It barely seemed real. Their men were arranging a clandestine casserole drop-off for Ted and then popping in at Blake’s old bar for a drink. He made only guest appearances there now that his studio work paid the bills. The plainclothes cop parked outside the house seemed silly, but since Emme had been approached at school, it made everyone more comfortable.

  Livia pantomimed a sleeping baby, and Kyle smiled. Kellan had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She patted him and took him into the living room. Her niece was already sleeping on the couch, cuddling her favorite stuffed frog. Livia came in and rearranged her covers, kissing her forehead. Kyle set Kellan in his playpen and pulled a similar maneuver. She sniffed his sweet head and smiled. That was new. How many times had she tried to help her sister—or just spend time with her family—and felt so, so empty.

  The sisters tiptoed back into the kitchen. Livia turned on the baby monitor and double-checked that the alarm was set. Finally they each grabbed a plate and filled it. Livia poured one glass of wine and went to fill the other glass, but Kyle put her hand over it and shook her head. In that moment, she knew she couldn’t wait another moment to tell her sister.

  “What? Are you wussing out on me? We are drinking at least one glass. Kellan had three diaper blowouts today. How can so much poop come from such a small tush?” She tapped Kyle’s hands with the mouth of the bottle.

  Kyle’s eyes filled. “I can’t.”

  Livia searched her sister’s face until she put it together.

  Kyle sobbed the rest, despite her intent to speak clearly. “N-N-Not good for the baaaaa-by.”

  But her sister didn’t need the words.

  “What?” Livia said this louder than she ever spoke while the kids were sleeping.

  Kyle set her plate down and Livia grabbed her, squeezing. They both sobbed, and Livia pulled her sister away and looked in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was strong. “You are going to be an amazing mother. Without a doubt.”

  Kyle opened her mouth to speak, to rush in with her fear she’d leave her child like their mother had done, but Livia was already shaking her head.

  “Don’t. You. Dare. We do this. We love. We stay. We do this. Understand?” Livia held her sister close with one arm and reached up to wipe her face.

  “I’m not supposed to say—you know, three months and stuff.” Kyle shrugged.

  “I’m surprised you lasted this long. Crap, I called you after Kellan’s pregnancy t
est with my underwear still around my ankles!” Livia giggled and sobbed a little more.

  “That image really changes that memory for me.” Kyle smiled.

  “Shut up, you knocked-up nightmare.” Livia hugged her again.

  “We don’t need her for this.” Kyle hugged her sister back.

  “We don’t. We can thank her for having us, but we don’t need her for this.” Livia tilted her sister’s face to hers.

  “Am I selfish for wanting this baby to be twins so we can have the same number of kids?” Kyle put her hands on her stomach.

  “No.” Livia laughed. “I’d love to see you with twins. Or more. But they don’t run in the family.”

  “Well, we had help. It was really hard for this to happen.” Kyle looked at the floor, feeling a tinge of shame.

  “Hey! Don’t you do that looking-down, I-hate-myself shit. Pregnant or not, I will make you smell my armpit.” Livia pulled her by the face back into the conversation.

  “Please, God no. Seriously, have you showered recently?” Kyle smiled.

  “How you get the miracle does not affect the results. A baby is a baby is a baby.” Livia hugged her hard one more time before grabbing the plates. “Okay, let’s eat this cold because I’m not sure I would even be able to get hot food down, it’s been so long. And you can start developing a taste for congealed sauce. Prepare yourself—Mommy food sucks.”

  It was the perfect way to spend an evening: eating spaghetti and dreaming of babies in bathing suits, plus John McHugh buying everything in Toys“R”Us because he just loved toys.

  “He seems good.” Blake closed the passenger door as Cole started his car outside Ted Hartt’s building.

  “He does—I mean, physically.” Cole flipped on the lights and pulled out onto the road.

  The men were quiet for a few minutes. Ted had returned to work, but he still tired easily. Now his fridge had a week’s worth of homemade food in it, so he could just rest once he got home.

  “I felt bad lying about Eve.” Blake looked at his brother’s profile.

  Cole exhaled. “Yeah, that’s never the right choice. But she seems to know what she’s doing.”

  “Do you think we should find him?” Blake cracked the window a bit despite the chill in the air. He wouldn’t call it claustrophobia exactly, just a preference for being outdoors.

  “I don’t know. Part of me wants Beckett here. Does that make me less manly?” Cole laughed a bit.

  “Well, we can be girls together because I wouldn’t mind having him here either. Part of me misses the days when he was so damn scary you knew people would steer clear of you and yours.” Blake turned on the radio for background music. “It’s kind of how we entered the world, you know? Even though it was tremendously screwed up, he was kind of like a dad.”

  “Probably the best example either one of us ever had—murdering aside, of course.” Cole turned into a grocery store’s parking lot. He put the car in park and turned to face his brother.

  Blake glanced around. Surely this was a safe place to talk. “But I hope he’s not that person anymore. I hope he was able to change the way he wanted to. I just can’t imagine what he’s up to. I knew he was in a bad place, but I’m just hoping, ya know? I never thought it would be this long.”

  “My concern is that he’s dead. Could you possibly imagine him not coming back?” Cole ran his hands across the steering wheel.

  “Not for this long. I mean a year, maybe two. He did really want to figure things out. But five years?” Blake drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “I don’t think he’s dead, though. He’s larger than life, right?”

  “I don’t even know how to start to find him. I never was interested in that part of his business—if that’s even still his business. And we can’t ask Eve.” Cole pulled out his cell phone and looked at it for a moment.

  “We might know someone—if you want to see if Beck is still alive.” Blake met Cole’s gaze. “Chaos is out of jail. I saw him walking the other day.”

  “What if Beckett’s got a good thing going and we break it? He might be done with this. With us.” Cole replied.

  “Never.” Blake shook his head.

  Cole nodded. “True.”

  Silence settled over the car again. Neither brother sprang into action.

  “Kyle’s pregnant.” Cole blurted.

  “What? No way! Congratulations!” Blake pulled Cole into the brother’s handshake and pounded him on the back. It was a reflex, but then they both jumped as if zapped by electricity. They seemed to realize simultaneously that they’d abandoned that particular greeting when Beckett left. Blake patted their intertwined forearms before letting go—the punch in the heart was no doubt present for the both of them.

  “That’s awesome. How’re you holding up?” Blake sat back in his seat.

  “Scared.”

  “Right? I cried after Emme was born but, like, not from happiness. I was so scared—that baby was so little.” He chuckled a bit. “But it really is amazing. Like nothing else.”

  “Well, she’s just pregnant. We’re not supposed to say anything, really. But damn.” Cole sighed.

  “Livia and I told everyone right away. Remember the phone call from Disney World?” Blake raised his eyebrows.

  “Do you? As I remember it you were about four mai tais into celebrating.” Cole laughed.

  “Yeah, I think I was scared for nine months straight until she was born. Then I was actually petrified.” Blake put his hand on his forehead.

  “We were having trouble, you know. We’ve been trying for a while.” Cole shrugged.

  “Really? Wow, that makes this news even better.” Blake watched as Cole’s smile fell a bit.

  “I just want her healthy and happy, right? That’s all that matters. And she needs this right now.” Cole looked at his phone again.

  “I’ll think good thoughts. And honestly? I can’t wait to be an uncle. I promise I’ll tell you if you’re holding the kid upside down.” Blake winked.

  Cole punched his arm. “Thanks. You’re a prince.”

  “So do you want to go see Chaos or should we leave well enough alone?”

  “Let’s go see him. Crap, I just want to know if Beckett’s alive. You know he’d find us if the situation was reversed.”

  “We’ve got an hour or so.” Blake put his window down a little lower, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t define it, and sure hoped Livia would understand, but he couldn’t just ignore his brother’s absence anymore. Cole followed the directions he gave, and in just ten minutes they were in a completely different part of town. “Turn here,” Blake said. “This should be the street.”

  “Are you sure? Lots of these houses look abandoned.”

  “It’s not fabulous, but at least it’s not the shed in his parents’ backyard,” Blake offered. “The guy’s actually making progress. He’s been here a while now.”

  “Oh yeah.” Cole pointed when he spotted Chaos sitting on a porch. As they parked on the street, all the men sitting around assumed a suspicious attentiveness.

  When they stepped out of the car, Blake nodded at Chaos like they’d planned the meeting, silently hoping the man wasn’t drugged out of his mind and would remember them without Beckett to make the connection. His question was answered when Chaos pushed off the porch and ambled toward him.

  “Can you give me a lift?” Chaos opened the back door to Cole’s car and slid in without waiting for an answer. “I need some smokes.”

  Cole shrugged at Blake before sliding back into the driver’s seat. Blake sat in front as they pulled away from the curb and headed to the nearest gas station.

  Once they were moving, Blake turned completely in his seat to look back at the man responsible for all the ink on his body. “Nice to see you out walking around,” he commented. In the past Chaos had had trouble leaving his home. The trips to jail seemed to have left him with a version of agoraphobia.

  “I’m on anxiety meds, bro. Helping a lot.” Chaos’ eyes sparkled.
“Thanks for wondering.”

  Blake nodded before turning back around.

  After a moment Chaos leaned forward and put his tattooed hands on the back of Cole and Blake’s seats. “Your brother back?”

  Blake looked again at Chaos. The time in jail really had aged him. “No. We were hoping you might know where he is.”

  The man shook his head. “I’ve heard rumors, but with all the poking around lately, I thought for sure he was here.”

  Cole glanced in the rearview mirror. “Like how do you mean?”

  “All the old places are getting tapped and taxed. Soldiers we don’t recognize. Asking lots of questions about what’s happening and who’s in charge. We’ll be sucking someone else’s dick soon if Taylor doesn’t show.” Chaos pulled out a switchblade and tossed it from hand to hand. His frantic movements made Blake wonder if he was high on something.

  Cole put the car in park, and in the same smooth motion turned and grabbed the knife in midair. “You want to keep this, put it away.”

  Blake hadn’t seen Cole deadly in a long damn time.

  “Sure thing, priest man.” Chaos took the weapon back and slid it in his pocket.

  “So what are the rumors?” Blake prompted.

  “About Beckett? That he’s holed up in some town in Maryland. About the soldiers? That they’re really his. That he’s coming back after getting tons more territory, and he’s scarier than he’s ever been.”

  Chaos paused for a moment and seemed at a loss for what to do with his hands. He settled for stuffing them in his pockets. “I don’t believe that second one. These people don’t operate the way he did. They’re getting kids involved and threatening women and shit. Damn, there was an old surgeon who had the crap kicked out of him. That’s not Taylor’s style. So what are we doing? You buying me smokes? Getting a tat?” Chaos hopped out of the car.