“She’ll figure it out, baby,” he reassured me. “She’s only two and a half months old.”

“She’s three months!”

“Right. Practically an old lady.”

“Shut up. I’m going to take a shower. Want to share?” I asked, dragging myself off the couch.

“Sure.” He followed me to the hallway, but paused when someone knocked on the front door. “I’ll be right there, Ladybug. Start the shower.”

I gave him a kiss and dragged myself to the bathroom. I didn’t care who was at the door; I just hoped he could get rid of them fast. We’d barely had any time alone since Cecilia was born, and we needed it. I was tired as hell, but even if we didn’t have sex, I’d be just as happy to touch his skin and feel him against me.

I was completely naked and waiting for the water to heat up when Cecilia started to cry. Shit. My boobs started leaking all over the place, and I scrambled to grab a towel off the rack so I didn’t drip all over the floor.

Fantastic.

I wrapped the towel around myself and headed toward where she was screaming in the living room. Why hadn’t Cody picked her up?

When I got to the end of the hallway, I slammed to a stop, taking in the scene in front of me.

Cody was frozen, staring at the woman whose husband had been killed as a traitor. Roberta. She was speaking, but I couldn’t hear her over Cecilia’s cries, so I hustled into the living room to calm the baby down. It only took me a second to get her latched on and a receiving blanket tossed over my shoulder. I was getting pretty damn good at the whole breast-feeding thing.

“I want to know why you killed her,” Roberta pleaded with Cody, her hands raised in supplication. “I know it was you, I hear the talk. I just don’t understand why she was there. Please, make me understand why my baby was in that place.”

“Go home, Roberta,” Cody said flatly, his tone making my stomach drop. “You know all there is to know.”

He started to close the door in her face, and she braced her hands against it. “Please, what if it was your baby? You’d want to know, right? Please! Please tell me what happened.”

Cody’s entire body flinched at her words, before tensing again. “Get the fuck outta my house,” he growled, slamming the door in her face as she cried.

“The fuck was that?” I whispered, tightening my hold on Cecilia.

“Not now, Farrah.” He brushed past me, walking toward the bedroom, and I spun to follow him.

“What the hell?”

“I gotta run in to the club for a little while,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Are you serious right now? I’m standing here practically naked with a baby attached to my boob and you’re leaving?”

“You got it under control, Ladybug,” he murmured, kissing my slack mouth. “Not like I can help ya anyway.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” I mumbled as he stepped away and started putting his keys and wallet into his pockets. “Why was Roberta here?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, baby,” he answered dismissively.

Things had been good between us for the last few months, great even. We’d been stressed, sure, but who wouldn’t be with a newborn baby? Underneath that stress had been something solid and sure. A safe place to land, a security net that I’d been so sure would hold.

As I watched him move around the room, I felt that security net start to fray.

I was losing him. Something was happening that I didn’t understand, but I could feel it, like the way the hair on my arms prickled during a lightning storm. He was going to run, and I had no choice but to stand there in a towel, feeding our daughter, and let him do it.

As he walked out the door, the security net snapped.

Chapter 41

Casper

What the fuck was Roberta thinking, coming to my apartment like that? I was so pissed I was shaking as I climbed on my bike. I’d wanted to hit something, to tear apart the house with my bare hands, and that was when I knew I had to get out of there.

Roberta was asking questions none of us had the answer to, and it brought up the questions that I hadn’t let myself think of in weeks. What had Carmella been doing there? How the fuck had she hooked up with the McCaffertys? Why the hell had she shot at us? It was a never-ending list of questions that we’d never have the answer to.

Farrah didn’t deserve to be fucked over by my mess, and I tried to shield her and Cecilia the best way I knew how—keep her entirely in the dark. I knew she worried. She’d looked at me more times than I could count with questions in her eyes, but I’d ignored it.

What would she think of me if she knew what I’d done? It didn’t matter that it was something I’d had to do. It didn’t matter that I’d probably saved her dad’s life. I’d shot a woman and killed her, no excuses erased that fact. Shame burned like fire in my gut. Women were supposed to be protected.

I’d been doing okay, trying to put that shit behind me and moving on with our life, but the fucking moment I’d dropped my guard down, it came back to haunt me.

Fucking Roberta. The club had given her more than enough money to live on—more than her traitorous old man had deserved—to keep her mouth shut and go away. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about her and her daughter; they did. They just knew that nothing good could come from her hanging around the club after her man had been branded a traitor.