For some reason, the only thing my mind kept suggesting was a baby.
Shit, I was not father material, and yet…
An image of Ronnie holding a tiny baby in her arms filled my head lap after lap, the little thing wrapped in a soft pink blanket, tiny, pudgy fingers touching her cheek, her lips, tiny lips as perfect as hers…
Fuck, was I really thinking this?
Hauling myself out of the pool after my hundredth lap, I shook the unnerving, persistent image from my head and snatched up the towel Ronnie had left behind.
I dried myself off, closed my eyes, and sucked in a deep breath. And another.
Ronnie and I were going to get married.
Fuck, my fantasy—the one I’d clung to more than once as I beat an opponent, a rival Trinity member, a rival gang member to a bloody pulp—was going to become a reality.
My old life was over. Finally.
A surreal warmth flowed through me. I yanked on my shorts, slung the towel over my shoulder, and headed inside. I crossed our living room, aiming for the kitchen. The faint sound of water running told me Ronnie was upstairs in the shower.
The urge to join her made my cock twitch. “Enough,” I growled at it, even as I pictured smoothing my palms up over her ribs to cup her breasts, lifting them up as I lowered my head to lick the water from her nipples, sucking it from her flesh before I buried my—
“Enough,” I growled at my dick again. Was it possible to fuck the woman I loved too often?
I didn’t think so, but at the same time, it wasn’t my pussy being hammered over and over by my fingers and tongue and dick. Ronnie probably needed recovery time.
I’d make her a cup of tea. She liked peppermint tea at this time of the afternoon. Then have my own shower while she was—
Someone pressed the front gate buzzer.
Stiffening, I narrowed my stare on the security system’s kitchen station.
On the small CCTV screen located above the intercom button, someone ran away from the locked front gate.
What the fuck?
Fluffy was currently waiting for the new love of his life—Tannah, the cute little paramedic who’d helped him after Queen B shot him—to finish work. Lila was still in London, a few hours away from boarding a plane to Miami. Ronnie’s parents weren’t likely to visit. Saying my relationship with her dad was strained was an understatement. Getting them to Key West for our wedding was going to be a challenge in itself. So who the fuck had been at our gate?
Who. The fuck?
Hurrying across to the security station, I checked the compound’s perimeter motion detectors and CCTV footage.
Nothing.
Chest tight, I played back the footage of the unknown person arriving at the gate.
Tall, thin. Dressed in dark jeans, a dark hoodie, and a baseball cap pulled down low over a face concealed by sunglasses. The only thing I could make out was a nose that looked like it’d been broken more than once.
On the small screen, they strolled up to the gate, pressed the buzzer, bent over a little, and then ran out of the shot.
My gut clenched. My fists did the same.
Flicking upstairs a quick look, I listened to the sound of water running, and then turned back to the security station on the kitchen wall.
I replayed the footage again and checked the live feed from the various cameras around the compound.
No movement.
I didn’t like it.