“We can change the number,” I tell him, laying my head against his chest.

“No, baby. I mean I know how he got this number.” He picks me up, carrying me into the bedroom and crawling into the bed with me in his arms.

“What’s going on?” I ask, reading his face.

“Your dad’s in prison.”

“I know. I heard the recording when he called.”

“That’s not how I know.” He runs his fingers through the hair at the side of my head. “When you were attacked again, I had him looked into and found out he’s in prison. I needed to see if he knew anything about what happened to you, so while we were in Seattle, I went and saw him.” He pauses, looking down at me, studying my face. “While I was there, your dad asked for my name. He knew that I lived in Tennessee. It wouldn’t take him much to figure out how to find me and, in turn, find you.”

“You think my dad had something to do with me getting attacked?” I ask, skipping over everything else he just said.

“I wasn’t sure, but now, no.” He shakes his head.

“Why’s he in there?” I ask even though I don’t know how I feel. Part of me cares, but then the other part—the part that was abandoned by him—doesn’t care at all.

He lets out a long breath then pulls me up his body so I’m lying on top of him before he rocks my world—and not in the good way. “Your dad’s in prison for murder,” he says, and my stomach rolls, making me hold my breath, praying for the nausea to pass. I can’t imagine my dad killing anyone. Even when he was at his worse, he was never violent.

“I feel sick.”

His hand goes to my back, rubbing it in soothing strokes. “I gotta tell you the rest, but I need you to know it has nothing to do with you,” he warns.

“Okay,” I say, bracing myself.

“Your dad killed the man who attacked you.”

“What?” I scream, trying to jump out of the bed.

“Baby, calm down. This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he growls, holding my wriggling body, which is trapped to his by his muscular, tattooed arms.

“You can’t tell me to calm down! How can I calm down? My dad is a murder! He killed someone because of me! How is this not my fault?”

“Your dad made his own choices. This does not reflect on you.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” I tell him, and this time, he must know that I really am going to be sick because he releases me immediately so I can run to the bathroom. I lean over the toilet, gagging.

I can’t believe this. My dad is a murder.

“Take some deep breaths for me,” he says, laying a cool washcloth against the back of my neck.

I sit back on my calves and take a few deep breaths before he picks me up off the floor, carrying me back to the bed, tucking me in front of him.

“Okay. I think you can tell me the rest now,” I tell him, wanting to get this over with.

“After I saw your dad, I did some research about what happened. I knew you would feel guilty about this, and I didn’t want that for you.” His arms wrap around me tighter, making me feel safe. “When you left, your dad sobered up. He finally realized what he did—or I guess, didn’t do. The court documents say your dad started asking around about the guy who attacked you and found out you weren’t his first victim.”

“Oh my god.” I close my eyes. I never even thought that what happened to me could have happened to someone else.

“He molested a girlfriend of his young daughter and then raped another woman.”

“No.” I shook my head not wanting to believe how really horrible that guy was.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses my forehead, pulling me closer to him. “Your father went to his house to confront him about what he had done. He said the guy attacked him first, but your dad had no wounds or anything that proved his claim. Your dad killed him.” He pushes the hair away from my face, his lips going to my forehead again. “I know you feel differently than I do. I’ll be happy if our child has your kind of compassion, but I’m glad he’s dead. He deserved what he got. Actually, he deserved a lot worse for the things he did.”

I’m glad he’s dead too. I’m glad he isn’t alive to hurt anyone else. I still feel guilty though. I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel Nico wiping the tears off my cheeks.

“Please don’t cry, baby,” he says quietly, running his hands over my head.

“Why’s my dad calling?” I wonder out loud.

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out before he calls again.” He rolls me to my back, his body leaning over me. “You know I love you, and there is nothing on this earth I wouldn’t do for you. I would kill for you, walk through fire for you, and fight your demons if that’s what you needed from me.” He wipes my cheeks again before kissing me softly. “This is something I’m going to need you to fight through with me though. I know it’ll be hard for you, but I think it may help heal some of what he broke in you if you talk to him.”

“I don’t know if I can. Why is he doing this now when before he couldn’t care less?”

“He had someone checking on you while you were in Seattle.”

“What?” I breathe. I look into his eyes, and he nods then shakes his head.

“He told me he had someone checking in on you, making sure you were okay, but then one day, you were just gone and he didn’t know what happened to you.”

“Okay… I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“I think he was doing it so he had peace of mind. When I met your dad and he talked about what happened to you, I could see how guilty he feels. He feels responsible for what happened to you, but he also feels guilty for your mother’s death.”

“He told you that?” I look at him, wide-eyed.

“He didn’t have to. That’s why I think it would be good if you talked to him.”

“Can I send a letter or something first? I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to him on the phone yet.”

“You can do it however you need to,” he says, kissing my forehead before pulling me into his chest. I’m not sure I’m ready to face my past, but I know that, as long as I have this man with me, I will be okay. I also know that, deep down, he is right; I need to face my past so I can move on to a future with Nico.

Chapter 12

Nico

I look out the window of the nursery and rub my hands over my face. For the first time since I started doing what I do, I feel out of control. I got in early from a job today and went to meet Sophie for lunch. When I got out of my car to head into the building, I noticed a paper under her wiper blade. At first, I didn’t think much about it. I wasn’t even going to look at it until something in my gut told me to turn around and grab it. As soon as I opened the letter, my stomach dropped.

After you have his baby, you’re mine. I haven’t forgotten about you.

The words were typed out on simple white copy paper. They were enough to send me into a rage and bring me to my knees all at once. I have no idea who had attacked her. I don’t know how safe she is working at the school anymore. She already had to have someone stay with her when I was out of town for work. She hates feeling like she needs to be on guard. I have no idea what to do. I don’t want her any more stressed out than she already is. Dealing with the situation with her dad already has her up late at night worrying. I don’t want that for her, and I don’t want that for my child. The fact she is now showing in her pregnancy is starting to freak me out. Not the showing part, but the part where she is very obviously carrying my child, there is someone after her, and they have been around her to know that she is pregnant.

“What are you doing in here?”

I turn to look at her as she enters the room we chose for the nursery. She’s so f**king beautiful that I have to ask myself, Why me? How did I get so lucky? Today, she has on a high-waisted skirt that ends right under her tits, and the fit of the skirt shows off her very rounded stomach and ends right above her knees. At only three and a half months, you would think she is farther along than she is with how large she is already. We still don’t know what we’re having. People have already been making bets, so we’ve decided to keep it a surprise for D-day, as Asher always calls delivery day.

“Baby, you know you’re not supposed to be wearing those shoes.” I shake my head as I watch her heels move across the carpet.

“These are not even that high,” she defends, doing a one-leg lift to show off one of the shoes. They are tall. They bring her forehead up to my mouth. When she’s barefooted, it reaches my chest. These are all lace with a long, wide heel. “Besides, I think this is the last day of heels for me until the baby gets here anyways.” She pouts then places one hand on my chest, lifting her foot behind her to slip off her shoe before doing the same with the other, causing her to shrink in height.

“What’s wrong?” I rub her belly, loving the look of pregnancy on her. The first day I came in and saw her na**d with the small bump that had formed overnight, I freaked, realizing that it’s real. She really has my baby inside her.

“My feet are swelling today.” She wraps her arms around my waist before laying her head on my chest.

“No more heels. They’re not safe.” This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. Talking to Sophie is like talking to a wall—I tell her one thing and she agrees then does whatever the hell she wants.

“I’ve been wearing heels forever. I’m probably safer in heels than sneakers.” She laughs, hugging me.

I hold her a little tighter, putting my lips to the top of her head. Our problems are a lot bigger than her wearing heels though. I hate not knowing who I’m after. With my job, there is always a suspect. I always know exactly who I’m looking for and what they are capable of. This situation is out of my hands, and that scares the shit out of me.

“We gotta talk, Sophie.”

“You’re using my name, so that tells me it’s something I won’t want to talk about.” She sighs.

“Sorry, baby, but we gotta.” I lead her out of the nursery and into the kitchen, where I carefully put her up on the counter. “You hungry?”

“No, and you’re the one who wanted to talk, so why are you avoiding it now?” She watches me as I go to the freezer, pulling out a pizza before turning on the oven.

“I found a note on your car today when I came to meet you for lunch.” I go about taking the pizza out of the box before putting it on a pan.

“What kind of note?”

“Fuck.” I run my hand over my head. “I don’t want to tell you about this. If there was a way to keep this from you while keeping you safe, I would.”

“You’re scaring me,” she states, looking at my fist clenching and unclenching at my side.

“I don’t want you to be scared. That’s the last thing I want, but I would rather you be afraid and cautious than you not know what’s going on, not pay attention to your surroundings, and then have something happen to you because you didn’t know you were in danger.”

“Tell me,” she prompts.

I walk back to her, fitting myself between her legs. I pull the copied note out of my back pocket to show her. I handed the original off to Kenton to take to Leo. I also checked with the school to see if they had any cameras on the premises, but they didn’t have any. I still have no leads. The note has no prints besides mine from grabbing it from the windshield. I watch as Sophie reads the words and her face goes pale, and I see the worry etched in her eyes when they meet mine again.

“Who’s doing this?” she asks, one hand covering her stomach, the other covering her mouth as tears begin to fill her eyes.

“I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that same question a million times and keep coming up with nothing.”

“I don’t know anyone here. I’ve always kept to myself,” she sobs, making me feel helpless.

“We’ll figure it out, baby. I just don’t know about you working at the school anymore. I don’t think it’s safe.” I hold her until her tears start to die down.

“I feel like I’m letting whoever’s doing this win by quitting, but I know I can’t work there and feel safe. I hope this ends soon. I don’t want to have the baby and be looking over my shoulder every time I leave the house.”

I wipe her face, kissing each of her eyelids before taking the note from her and putting it back in my pocket. “I hate this for you, but things are going to have to change until I find out who it is.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” she says, and in those few words, I know how much faith she has in me. Her faith alone makes me want to fight that much harder to end this.

“From now on, when I’m out of town, you’re gonna stay with Mom and Dad, and tomorrow, we’re going to get you a gun and I’m gonna teach you how to shoot.” I put my mouth to her forehead, kissing her before looking into her eyes again.

“Do you really think it’s necessary?”

“Absolutely. I need to know you can take care of yourself. Your self-defense moves aren’t going to be as helpful when you’ve got a belly to contend with.”

“Do you really think I need to stay at your parents’?”

“Yes. The person has proven that he knows where you lived and now where you work. Who knows if he’s figured out that you now live here?”