Coup De Grâce (Code 11-KPD SWAT 7)

My eyes closed, not that it mattered anyway since it was pitch black outside now.

The lone light we’d been using for the minimal lighting it gave went out when a hard burst of wind screamed between the buildings.

Nikki gasped, and I couldn’t figure out if it was because of the pure darkness, or the way I rammed into her, taking my frustration about the entire situation out on her pussy.

“Michael,” she gasped, clinging tighter.

“Take it,” I ordered.

She leaned down and bit my neck, hard.

And I exploded.

It was all too much.

The way she clenched around me.

The way she smelled.

The thought of her carrying my baby.

A baby that was a miracle in it’s own right, but would probably grow up to be just like me.

“I finished without you,” I murmured into her hair.

She petted my head, running her nails along my scalp and making shivers chase down my spine.

“That’s okay,” she whispered softly. “Just don’t do it again.”

I laughed humorlessly and pulled out of her, letting her feet fall back towards the ground.

Once I knew she was steady, I let her hips go.

Her skirt fell from my grasp as I did, and we sat there in an awkward silence.

Me with my head against her shoulder, and her with her arms still around me.

“What are we going to do?” I rasped, eyes clenching tight.

A sob caught in her throat, and I knew that she didn’t do this on purpose.

I knew it with all my heart and soul.

And when she whispered, “I don’t know, but I love you,” I knew that I would do whatever it took to come to terms with this.

Because I had just as much of a part in the conception of this child as she did.

And that’s what a man did.

Stepped up to the plate.Chapter 16So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.

-T-shirt

Nikki

I knew he wouldn’t find me here.

It was the one place I could go without anyone finding me.

Salsarita Mamacita’s.

My family wouldn’t be caught dead here.

It was the poorest quality dancing place in town.

Plus, Michael didn’t dance.

He’d told me so.

Many, many times.

When I’d be dancing around the kitchen making dinner, he’d just roll his eyes at me in exasperation when I tried to get him to join in.

Something about attending too many dances when he was younger or some bullshit excuse like that.

It’d been two months since I’d told Michael that I was pregnant.

Two months since he’d fucked me, stayed with me throughout the rest of the night, and then disappeared without a trace.

Well, not without a trace.

I knew where he was.

He called me, updated me on what was going on, but he wasn’t there.

He was seeing a therapist.

He was ‘coming to terms’ with the baby, as he said.

He’d been on a case.

I knew it was a bad case.

I also knew it was a worthy case for him to be on, but I didn’t understand why it was taking him away from me like it was.

And I was fairly sure he was just using it as an excuse to lick his wounds. Wounds that he believed I delivered against him.

I was on birth control. I didn’t know what else to do to prevent a child other than abstinence…and that wasn’t going to happen with Michael.

I hadn’t been on antibiotics, so it wasn’t anything stupid on my part.

Nor had I forgotten any pills. I knew he didn’t want kids. I would never trap him into keeping me, nor give him a child he didn’t want on purpose.

So, needless to say, I was in a mood.

A lonely mood.

Because he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t with me, and I needed him so bad that I could barely stand it.

I’d been ducking his calls for three days now

And I knew he either would plain old stop calling, or he’d pull his head out of his ass and come see me.

Either one was a desired effect at this point.

I knew he loved me.

Knew it so deeply that I felt it with each call he made to me. Heard it in the tone of his voice.

I took a gulp of my water, enough that I could technically say I was done with it since there was no way I’d be touching it when I got back to my table.

I wasn’t going to be roofied.

Plus, I wasn’t stupid.

“Want to dance, mamacita?” I heard called over my shoulder.

I turned from where I was swaying my hips along with the beat to find a very beautiful man at my back.

He was tall.

He had a black leather vest over a red t-shirt with black jeans and a pair of black boots.

I knew he spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

Did I care?

Fuck no.

Because I was a single lady, and single ladies had needs.

No, not that kind of needs.

Needs that made me want another human’s touch. Crave it.

Needs that Michael should be fulfilling right now. Not leaving me to my own devices.

Jesus, now I was depressing myself again.

I turned, and the man’s eyes immediately went down to my stomach.

Something I made no effort to hide.

I was proud of this stomach.

I was one week shy of four months pregnant, and I was definitely showing.

My previous flat belly was now gently rounded.

And my jeans that I was wearing hugged my legs and hips like a glove.

I had on black spiky heeled boots that came up to mid-calf, and a skin tight black, low cut tank top that showed off the girls.

It was an outfit that I knew would drive Michael wild if he saw.

He wouldn’t, but I still hoped.

“Yeah?” I asked sharply.

His eyes moved up from my belly to my face and he asked abruptly, “You got a man?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I have a man.”

His shoulders seemed to slump. “Shit. I was hoping you’d say different.”

I smiled genuinely at him.

“Life’s a bitch like that,” I offered him my hand. “My name’s Nikki.”

He took my hand, shook it twice, then let it go.

“Name’s Dane. Can I get you another drink?” He asked, looking pointedly at the near empty glass.

“Sure, but I’m going to dance right now. You may want to wait because if it sits there too long, I won’t drink it,” I told him, taking a step away from him.