Every day, I wake up excited to find out what is going to happen between us, when normally any talk or thoughts of the future would freak me out. I’m falling hard and fast for him, and I really wouldn’t have it any other way, because even if he doesn’t say it with words, every action tells me he’s right there falling along with me.
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“BABE, WHAT THE fuck is this?” Maxim asks, and I pull my cheek off his pec where it was resting and move my chin to the top of my hand on his chest so I can look at him.
Today, I was successful at keeping him busy so he didn’t have a chance to act on confronting Cohen. After we left the house this morning, we drove around Nashville, looking at about a dozen or more empty lots that are available for purchase. Ate lunch at one of my favorite chicken spots near downtown, then we came home to go over the list of locations and make a pros and cons list. We tried to figure out if it would be easier to build a place from the ground up or go through with purchasing The Drop. And the next few days should be just as busy, so I’m hoping he’ll be so preoccupied that he will forget all about Cohen.
“It’s a documentary.”
“Yeah, I know that, but why are you watching it?” he asks, and I glance at the television quickly.
“Because it’s interesting.”
“Some guy murdering multiple women over the course of three years while being married and having kids is interesting to you?”
“Yes.” I shrug, then start to rest my cheek back to where it was—where it’s been since after we ate dinner and decided to watch some TV.
“Baby, this shit is fucked up. How does this not give you nightmares?”
“Because I know that guy is not on the streets anymore. He’s locked up in prison where he can’t hurt anyone ever again.” I tip my head to the side. “Do you want me to change the channel?”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no,” he says, and I smile, because I’m sure he’s as invested as I am in the show. Just when I start to relax back against him, the doorbell goes off, and we both turn our heads toward the stairway leading to the first floor like we can see who’s here, when we definitely cannot. “Expecting someone?”
“No.” I lean over to snatch my cell off the coffee table in front of us just to make sure I didn’t have my ringer off and that my family isn’t attempting to get ahold of me. Not that I expect it to be them, since I spoke to my mom and sisters earlier today when we made plans for dinner at my parents’ place for Saturday. When I see I haven’t missed any texts or calls, I push up off Maxim just as the bell rings for a second time. “It might be a delivery person or something.”
“I’ll grab it.” He starts to get up, and I shake my head.
“I’ve got it.” I head for the stairs and roll my eyes when I hear him right behind me. When I reach the first floor, there is an outline of someone behind the etched glass, but with it being dark out, I can’t make out more than their shadow. I pull the door open, surprised to see a woman with a dark, cute bob, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“April?” she asks with a curious smile.
“Yes,” I say, feeling Maxim get close to my back and wrap his hand around my hip.
“Good.” She lifts her hand not holding the flowers, and I see something black, but it takes a second to process that it’s a gun. I don’t even have a chance to blink before I’m shoved roughly to the side by Maxim and end up crashing into the stand in my entryway, just barely catching myself before I end up on the floor. Ignoring the pain in my hip and arm, I right myself and turn to find Maxim and the woman in a tussle for the gun, the flowers she was holding now scattered all over my entryway floor.
Without thinking about what might happen, I charge forward, then my heart stops and my stomach twists painfully when there is a bang so loud it makes my ears ring. Ramming into her as I scream, I’m shocked when she drops easily to her knees, then curls in on herself, screaming in agony.
“Are… Are y-you okay?” I pull my attention off her to sweep my eyes over Maxim as he bends to pick up the gun discarded amongst the brightly colored flower petals littering the ground. Once he has it in his grasp, he holds it up, clicks the button on the side, and shoves it into the back of his slacks before meeting my gaze.