I’d caught her crying earlier. Fucking crying. Over my psychopath fucker of a father.
She’d hero-worshiped him though—that was still insane to me—and Da’s death was hitting her hard. I didn’t disturb her because she needed the rest and trudged over to the closet.
My hand automatically reached for one of my suits. One set of fingers grabbed a silk sports coat, while the other snatched a necktie from the purpose-built case that housed my collection, but then I shook myself.
This wasn’t Da’s city anymore.
It was mine.
I grabbed a black tee, some jeans, and a pair of shitkickers that I used to wear for wetwork. Most of it was old now because I’d been stuck in a suit since the shooting that had wrecked my knee.
Everything was too tight. I’d pumped up since then, but I determined tomorrow I’d buy some more gear. Gear that fit the new filthy fucking king of Manhattan.
I reached for a gun and holster, armed myself with two knives, then dragged on a suede field jacket. Leaving on the light for ease of movement, I headed out into the bedroom and hovered over Savvie.
Crouching down at the bedside, something my new knee permitted for short bouts, I reached over and stroked her hair away from her forehead.
She didn’t stir at first, so I went to kiss her temple.
I felt her sudden wakefulness before she sighed my name. "Aidan?"
Every fucking time she did that, it got to me, shot straight to my cock and had me aching to be inside her.
Pressing another kiss to the crown of her head, I murmured, "I have to go out, little one."
Savvie yawned then stilled. Peering at me from between slitted eyes, she whispered, "Are you wearing jeans?"
Did her voice thicken or was that just my imagination?
"I am."
"Why aren’t you wearing a suit?"
"Because I don’t need to wear one where I’m going."
I could sense her eyes crawling over me. One hand moved to my field jacket, and her fingers stroked over the suede in a similar way as if she were stroking my cock.
My dick hardened in response, and now was not the fucking moment for that.
"It’s late, isn’t it?"
Yeah, her voice had thickened for real.
Fuck. My. Life.
"More like early. It’s three AM. I won’t be long."
Now that my dick was engaged, I sure as hell wouldn’t be hanging around unnecessarily.
She started to sit up. "I’ll come with you."
My wife had gotten into the habit of stunning the hell out of me, but this definitely took me by surprise.
"What? You can’t; it’s business, honey. You go back to sleep."
Her hand snapped around my wrist. "I-I, you, we—"
"What is it? What’s wrong?" I demanded, her nervousness ramming into me with all the force of a Mack truck.