Red Handed(82)
Roman paused and ran his fingers through his thick blond hair, seemingly at a loss for words. After a moment, he grew somber. “You’re going to keep it from him?
She’d briefly considered it, but it didn’t take more than a moment to decide she would never keep the truth from Cole or lie to him again. He deserved the chance to know his child. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to handle it. I don’t want to be his obligation. He’s a good man, and he loves me.” She hung her head and blinked back the tears. “He’ll do what’s right, and in his view, that means marriage. But I’ll always know he preferred a life without me or the baby over a life with us.”
“You can’t know that,” Roman said softly.
“Yeah? Where is he?” She looked up at her stepbrother. “I’ve been home for weeks now.”
He got up from the bed and stuck his hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Gracie says he’s miserable.”
“You’ve been talking to Gracie?”
“More like Gracie’s been talking to me,” he said, reminding her of Gracie’s chatterbox nature. “She was worried about you because you sounded so depressed on the phone. So she’s been calling me. Daily. Apparently Cole isn’t doing well either. She said he hasn’t been the same since you left.”
The thought of Cole suffering didn’t give her any satisfaction. “Then maybe he should do something about it rather than allow his fears to rule his life.” She sprung to her feet. “You’re not going to say anything to Gracie about my pregnancy, are you? Promise me you won’t tell her.”
Roman pulled her into a hug. “I promise, but only because it’s not my place to tell. Anyway, congratulations.” He nudged her under the chin. “With or without DeMarco, I think you’re going to make a terrific mother.”
“Thanks, Roman.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek. “So you and Gracie?”
Smiling, he stepped back with his hands up in front of him. “She’s just a friend. But actually, the reason I came to your room was because she called with some news this morning you should know.” The smile slid from his face. “Michael Malone is dead.”
She covered her stomach, thinking about the child growing within her. Rinaldi had sworn that Michael would pay for testifying against him. “Was he murdered?”
He slowly shook his head. “Not officially. Officially he died of an allergic reaction to penicillin for the treatment of a sinus infection. His parents swear the allergy information should’ve been in the system and that Michael never would’ve taken it, but there was nothing in his records about the allergy.”
Biting her nails, she nervously paced the room. “Rinaldi did it. He’s got someone on the inside. Killed from an allergic reaction, just like my father. He said he’d walk. Jesus. If he had someone inside the prison change Michael’s records, he’s invincible. No wonder the man thinks he’s God.” She stopped and took a breath. “Does Cole know?”
He went to her and rubbed her arms. “He does.”
“And he’s still not here.” The excruciating truth knocked her for a loop. Even when she’d thought she’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming for her, a part of her had held onto a tiny shred of hope he’d change his mind. That he loved her enough to fight his fear. Baby or not, they were truly over. “Out of sight, out of mind, right? What if Rinaldi comes after me next?”
He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Gracie doesn’t think that will happen. But just in case, I’ve arranged for a bodyguard to stay here. He should be here in a couple of hours.”
She pushed his chest. “You did that without asking me first?”
“Is this some emotional pregnancy thing?” He scratched his head. “Because one second you’re worried Rinaldi will come after you, and the next you’re mad at me for protecting you. You’re not going to send me out for pickles and ice cream, are you?”
Annoyed, she growled. Why did men always have to blame the hormones? Wasn’t it possible to go from sad to scared to angry in only a couple of minutes because the situation warranted it? “It’s not pregnancy. I don’t want some stranger here. I mean, where did you find him? Did you open up the yellow pages and look up bodyguards?”
“Give me a little credit. It’s someone I know. I wouldn’t trust some random stranger with you.”
Why hadn’t he said that to begin with? “Oh. Okay then. And no, I’m not going to send you for pickles and ice cream. That’s disgusting.” Besides, she wouldn’t limit herself to sweet and sour when there were so many other available flavors. Her mouth watered. “But I would kill for some Wynters Confectionary jelly beans.”