Falling for the Killer

But he stopped midway. “I’m sure you’ll be grateful if I make this easy on you,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder. “You know, owe me a favor or two.”

There it was. I knew there were strings. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nodded and left. I motioned the bartender for another drink and she filled me up. I stared into the brown liquid as it rolled around in my glass and thought about owing Dean a favor, about the Don getting angry, about Ash’s family. She was probably telling them right now and going through some horrible shit.

She shouldn’t have to do it alone. We could’ve done it together, or at least I could’ve been nearby to help her out in case her parents got violent or some shit like that. Her father wouldn’t take it well, and I had to guess Stuart would vent some frustration when he heard.

Ash was going to need help, but she made it clear she didn’t want any from me.

I turned my glass around and around. What a fucked-up situation. I had the Healys pushing up against my door and now I had Ash to deal with. I hated the idea of her going through this alone, and that comment about paying me—fuck, it still stuck in my gut. As soon as she said those words, it truly struck home that she didn’t know a goddamn thing about me.

Her whole life was about money and status and power. She’d probably never known a man that didn’t give a damn about any of those things, except for maybe power. I didn’t need her cash or her status, I only wanted her and my baby. And yet she’d offered to pay me off like I was some stupid problem she could bury in a big, fat check.

I couldn’t stand the thought. I took out my phone and called Dean. He picked up right away. “Missed me already?” he said.

“If you want me to owe you a favor, I need something from you,” I said.

Short silence. “What?” he asked.

“I need Ashleigh’s address,” I said. “Her family’s house.”

He was quiet and I heard traffic in the background. He must’ve been walking somewhere. “That’s not a good idea,” he said.

“I’m not going to make a scene,” I said. “Only I need to talk to her, and I want to do it in person.”

Another silence. I could only guess what he was thinking. “You’ll owe me a big favor,” he said.

“Fine,” I said. “Get me the address.”

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll text it to you.” Then he hung up.

I sat there and sipped my drink. I knew showing up at a rich girl’s house looking like a thug was a terrible idea, but I didn’t know what else to do. That baby was mine, and I wasn’t about to let her slip away. Letting her leave my house was a mistake, and now I was going to pay for it.

Ten agonizing minutes later, her address appeared. She had a place out on the Main Line in a town called Bryn Mawr. I vaguely knew the area—it was the sort of spot men like me never bothered with. I got up, paid the bartender, and walked out into the comfortable afternoon. I felt light and the sun was bright, but I knew what I had to do.

There was no other way.

I found my truck, pulled into traffic, and headed west. Bryn Mawr wasn’t too far outside of the city. The Main Line was a series of small towns and villages that grew up around Philly’s original train tracks. The richest, wealthiest families in the region had estates tucked back down long driveways with big gates and high walls. Their world wasn’t meant for a man like me, but fuck them and fuck everyone if they thought they could stop me.

My baby. I kept thinking it, over and over again as the city turned to suburbs. Fresh green lawns, big leafy trees, nice young couples walking down the sidewalks with strollers and big smiles on their faces. My baby was growing inside of Ash. I never imagined I’d have a child, never thought that was for me, and yet now that it was a possibility, I knew that I couldn’t turn my back on her. I needed that child like I needed a piece of myself.

The address led me to a small private driveway that wound through a pine forest. Needles covered the ground and birdsong drifted in through my open windows. It was goddamn idyllic, totally different from the inner city where I grew up. I knew the scream of ambulances, the pop of gunfire, the sound of angry voices in the middle of the night. This weird forest in the suburbs was totally foreign.

The driveway opened at the end and the house sitting before me looked like a hotel. The roof was red tile and the walls were a clean slate gray. A large awning jutted out across the pavement and a couple cars were parked beneath. I slowed and stopped, climbed out, and looked around.