He waits for a beat. “Mark checked with the airline. Looks like he followed us from the courthouse. He was on the same plane.”
“How did he get a gun through security?”
Cole shakes his head. “They have footage of him retrieving it from a locker. He paid someone to leave it there. Mark found the man. He’s just some lowlife looking to make a quick buck. He’s been arrested, and he’ll get a little time.”
“Oh.” I shudder, pushing the thought out of my head. He’s gone, and that’s all that matters now.
“You’re safe now, baby.” He pulls me tighter, lowering his voice and lacing it with a dark undertone. “No one will ever hurt you again. I promise you that.”
I don’t doubt his words, and for once I allow myself to believe I’m going to be okay. I keep quiet after that, falling asleep to the even sounds of his heartbeat.
Chapter Twelve
Mark
“Son of a bitch!” Paul slams five twenties in front of Mark. With his teeth, he pulls the marker cap off and grins around it while he crosses off yet another day on the Logan Arrival Calendar.
Savannah covers the sides of her stomach. “At least warn me toearmuffit, Paul.”
“My apologies to the fetus,” he grumbles as he stomps out.
She laughs as she eases her tired-looking body onto the couch and pats the side of the fish tank as a hello to Aloof. Scoot and the fish have formed an interesting friendship, one that keeps the moody little brat busy for hours. But Mark can tell Savi is worried about Cole being home for the birth. He was called to Washington for an emergency, but Frank promised they would be gone for four days, tops. Savannah nearly had to drug him to get him to go, though she still isn’t due for three and a half weeks. She’s so great about not getting in the way of his job, even if it means he’s cutting it close with the birth.
Mark removes her heels for her but holds one up with a look. “Really? This is when you can wear flat shoes and no one would ever notice, Savannah.”
“Don’t even suggest wearing Crocs.”
His head snaps back. “Ahh, no. I hate those things.” He really does.Let’s make our feet look like cartoon characters. Oh! Oh, and let’s add more shit to them with pictures on pegs…yeah, that’s sexy, people.
She lets out a sigh. “Have you ever felt like your pelvic bone was smooshed and pummeled by a hammer over and over again? Because that’s what’s happening in,” she gestures around her private parts, “here, all day long.”
He leans back and crosses his legs. “No, I can’t say I have, Savannah.”
She tosses a pillow at him. “I’ll pay you to scare this runt right out of me.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll just wait until the twenty-fifth.” He points to where the calendar saysBaby’s Due—Mark.
Her face falls, but she chases the bad thought away. He knows his prediction makes her nervous, considering it’s in two days.
She peeks up at him. “I want cookie dough.”
“Cookie dough?” Keith stops as he’s walking by, a glimmer of hope spreading across his face. “Are you making cookies?” He comes closer. “The ones with the gooey middle and chocolate shavings sprinkled on top?”
She rolls her eyes and sticks out her hand. “Can you help me stand?”
Mark reaches for her but stops. “Will you make us cookies?”
Her mouth drops open. “I’m nine months pregnant, and you want me to make cookies?”
Keith joins Mark’s side as he stands. They look at one another, knowing what has to be said. “Yes, but only if you don’t tell Cole.”
She thinks for a moment before she crosses her skinny arms over her bump. Her face suddenly lights up, and Mark sees her evil side surface. “Only if you doit.”
“I’m out.” Keith tries to leave, but Mark grabs his shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut but turns back around.
“Warm cookies, Keith. How long has it been?”
“Three months, two days.”