“You won’t,” I tell him. “I know you won’t, Ronan. We’ll learn together.”
“I don’t do well with loud noises,” he says quietly. “I worry that when the baby cries…”
His words drift off and his expression takes on a distant look.
“You will adjust,” I assure him. “It will be different when it’s your own child, Ronan. And we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll do whatever we have to.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s still worried about it. There are admittedly a million things left to figure out. A huge clusterfuck still waiting for us back in Boston with the feds and Slainte and Lachlan’s arrest. The informant, the baby, the future. Everything is hanging in the balance right now. And I shouldn’t feel calm.
But when I’m here in his arms, and he’s alive, and looking at me the way he is right now, all is right with the world.
Chapter Forty-One
Ronan
For the next three days, we remain holed up at Alexei’s house. The lad isn’t very fond of me after the stunt I pulled before with Mack and the small matter of shooting at his car. But he helped me when I needed it, regardless. I don’t have a clue if it’s because of the alliance or because of Sasha.
I’ve noticed he has eyes on us often. Like he’s trying to pick us apart, work out what’s going on between us. I haven’t a clue why. Crow always said this one was funny when it came to women. That he had a soft spot for them. And I’ve seen him enough times to know it’s true. I don’t think he’s got eyes for Sasha, but I still don’t like him looking at her the way he does. I don’t like anyone looking at her.
Because she’s mine.
I glance at her sleeping form beside mine and wonder how the bleeding hell I ever had the good fortune to cross paths with her. For her to see past my issues and care for me anyway. I haven’t worked it all out yet, but the one thing I do know is Sasha is kind and has a good heart. For some reason, she believes there’s something in me worth keeping.
I don’t take that lightly. Only, I worry I’m going to jack this whole situation arseways if I don’t tread carefully. There’s still a bit of dread inside of me when I think about having a baby. I’ve no fecking clue how to care for a baby. But when I look at Sasha and it really settles over me that she’s carrying my child, I get a big head over the notion. I fancy the idea that I’ve claimed her in such a way. That she will never have another but me, and that we might make a family together. The way that Crow said, with that picture he had in his head. I want that with Sasha. Only, I need to sort out all of this other bollocks first.
The benefit of being at Alexei’s is that he has a dungeon that could rival my own. He uses it himself from time to time or allows the Russians to do so when the need arises. That very same dungeon is also where Andrei was left to fester until I was in fair enough shape to handle the business that was left undone.
I didn’t reap as much enjoyment from the act as I’d hoped. The prick had already contracted some sort of infection by the time I had a go at him and he wasn’t as lucid as he should’ve been. But he did suffer. There were no bones about that.
His death was slow and painful. A standard I set for anyone else who thinks they might touch what’s mine. When I finished with him, I sent Andrei back to his men in pieces.
Now there’s only the other matter of the feds to contend with.
On cue, there’s a rap at the door and then Rory pokes his head in.
“Ye mind?” he asks. “I need a word with you.”
I cover Sasha over and then reach down to kiss her cheek right in front of Rory. I don’t mind so much, now. I’m not uncomfortable anymore. Worried I’m stuffing it up in front of the lads. The only thing I care about is that they all know she’s been claimed.
“I’ll be along in a moment,” I tell him. “Let me get dressed.”
He nods and shuts the door behind him and I dress in the clothes that Alexei provided me. It’s no suit, but it’ll have to do.
When I open the door Rory is waiting outside, and he gestures down the hall. I walk beside him and into a room where Conor, Michael, Dom and a few of the other lads have joined us as well. Since the shake up with the feds, they’ve all gone to different safe houses. This being one of them.
“Any word on Crow?” I ask as I take an empty seat.
“The barrister assured me he’ll be home for Sunday supper,” Dom answers. “They’ve got nothing but a bloody house of cards. A huff and a puff and we’ll blow it right down.”
I rock back in my chair with a nod. I suspected as much. This isn’t the first time we’ve had heat on our backs, and it won’t be the last.
“And what of the rest of it?”