Poor kid is so screwed. An assassin for a mother and mafia prince for a father. A golden retriever and white picket fence is nowhere in its future. But a bodyguard and bulletproof crib are possible.
"Stevie, your thoughts are so loud I can hear them." Baz kisses my neck as his finger continues to graze over my skin. How does he know? How does he always know?
"Oh, yeah? What I am I thinking about then?"
He rolls me onto my back so he can look me in the eyes. "You're thinking about me fucking all the worry out of your pretty head." He trails his hand down the center of my bare body.
I wish it was that easy.
"She's going to find us eventually."
"No, she won't. Not here. Not again."
"She found you once already. I just wish I knew how." I stare up at the ceiling as the fire pops loudly, startling me. Fuck, I never startle, but I just spooked like a damn cat. I feel too exposed. Like a defense with no offense. I regret not beating more information out of Regina when I had the chance.
"This is one of Gianni's safe houses. It's not on any map. No one knows it exists."
"That doesn't mean it can't be found. If she's adamant about revenge. She won't stop. I know her. She's a vindictive bitch when she wants to be. And she loved Benny. Was as loyal to him as I was."
Baz's lip curls at the mere mention of his father's name. He loathes when I include myself in the same sentence as him.
But it is what it is. Benny is a huge part of my past, and Baz will just have to get over that one day.
"Let her come then." He shrugs.
"Baz, you're inviting a fight we can't win. Not here. We have nothing protecting us."
"I'll protect you." You have to admire the man's grit.
"I have no doubt you'll protect me. But G has an army at her fingertips."
"So does Gianni," he argues.
"You're talking about war, Baz. Is that what you want? Your family to go to war? Over us?"
Baz sit's up, his face stone cold. "Stevie, I would launch a nuclear attack if it meant keeping my family safe. If it means keeping you and our child safe."
"Baz, I believe you, but we don't have that kind of ammo on hand."
"If I told you there was an entire arsenal under the house, would it make you feel better?"
I sit up, covering my body with the blanket. "Are you telling me there are weapons here?"
"There's an underground armory, fully stocked and loaded."
"And you're just telling me about this now?"
"Need to know."
"Baz!" I shove him so hard he falls over.
"Whoa!" He puts his hands up as I attack him.
"I have been freaking out for weeks about being exposed, and you were withholding information." I sneak in a light but firm side hit.
"Oh!" He grabs his side as he laughs. "I didn't realize it was so important!" He blocks his face as I swipe at him. "You're so aggressive!" he accuses.
"I'm hormonal!"
"Obviously." He catches my wrists, the two of us winded. "We're going to have to spar once the baby's born." There's an excited twinkle in his eye.
"You're on," I rise to the challenge. "I'm going to need to kick someone's ass to get back into shape."
"Don't worry, baby, I'm going to keep that ass in great shape." He reaches down and squeezes one of my butt cheeks.
"I think you're doing a pretty good job already." I lean in to kiss him.
"Mmm," he agrees as he parts his lips and spears his tongue into my mouth. "It's easy to do when your girlfriend is a gorgeous, smart, badass killer carrying your baby."
"Those are your favorite trait's, huh?" We roll around on the rug.
"Tight, wet, willing pussy is on top of the list, too," he cracks, echoing a similar statement I made once.
"Touché." I giggle.
"Feeling better?" He tucks some of my wild hair behind my ear.
"Much, now that I know there's a depository underneath us."
"Have a little faith in me."
"I have plenty of faith in you. It's everyone else I question. I have seen a lot of bad things, Baz. Lived through worse. I just don't want to be blindsided."
"Blindsided is bad, huh?" Baz frowns.
"Is that a serious question?" I look at him like he's nuts.
"I don't think it's always bad." He reaches behind him, sliding his hand under the couch where I can't see.
My immediate response is suspicion.
Apprehensively, I watch as he produces . . . a bottle of lubrication.
I frown. "How long has that been stashed under there?"
"Since I bought it."
I know exactly when he bought it. He placed it on the kitchen island a week ago when he went into town for groceries. I asked him what it was for, and he didn't pull any punches. Baz told me point blank, "Anal sex."