Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(98)

“There’s no helping me,” Hat Guy said, shaking his head, openly sobbing. “There’s no hope for me.”

Penni turned in Dan’s arms, but he refused to release her, determined to keep her close. “There’s always hope,” she sniffed, her voice full of tears.

Hat Guy shook his head and smiled through the anguish on his face. “Take care of that baby,” he said. “Children are life’s greatest joy.”

And then before Dan or Penni could so much as blink, the man shoved the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger…

*

Black Knights Inc., Courtyard

Saturday 5:49 p.m.

“Did you mean it when you said you believed in babies?” Penni asked Dan, her heart like a boulder in her chest. She knew the organ continued to pump blood, to fulfill its function, but it felt heavy, hard, cold.

After Mystery Man shot himself, the Knights had come running out of the shop, locked and loaded and ready for war. Even pint-sized Becky had been packing. And then for over an hour, the courtyard had been a scene of chaos. First all the men had run around, retrieving the wired C4—a real nail-biter scenario. The stuff was stable as long as no one pushed the ignition switch, but still… And then there had been the president to call and Morales, the director of the CIA. It’d been decided by all involved that the local authorities should be left out of it. You know, given no one wanted to answer any questions since no one knew any answers. Afterward, in typical woo-woo underworld spec-ops style, the body had been photographed, fingerprinted, sampled for DNA, and placed in a body bag—apparently the Knights just have those lying around—and shoved into the Hummer. Boss, Zoelner, and Chelsea used the underground tunnel to take it to who knew where. Penni didn’t care. She just wanted to go home and forget any of this ever happened.

But first there was Dan…

It was time, finally, to talk about why she’d come. Why she’d had to come. All the fear and excitement that had forced her to keep her mouth shut was gone. Probably because her hope for the future, for what they might be starting together, was gone too. Now there was nothing left but to work out the logistics. And it was so sad, so disappointing that it weighed on her, making her limbs feel heavy, numb. Making a dull ache pound behind her eyes. Making each word a challenge.

“Of course I do,” Dan said. “I believe in babies, everything else I told you I believed in, and a whole lot more on top of that.” He was sitting in the bright red Adirondack chair, his elbows planted on his knees, his big hands dangling between his jean-clad thighs. A whorl of sandy-colored hair fell over his brow and her fingers itched to push it back.

Christ. Even now, even after everything, I still want him.

She figured she always would. The knowledge cut into her, flaying and scraping and making her bleed. She felt like she’d taken a leap of faith and landed in a bed of broken glass.

“Good.” She nodded. She was determined to get through this. “Because I’m keeping the baby. I’ve always wanted to be a mother, and I…” She swallowed. “I think I’d be a good one.”

“You’ll be a phenomenal mother.”

“I’m thirty-three years old,” she continued as though he hadn’t interrupted. “I don’t have too many more chances left.”

“Penni, I’m thrilled,” Dan insisted, his smile wobbly, making him look uncertain, boyish. He was choosing his words carefully. “I… It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. A baby. God. I’m gonna be a father! Can you believe it?” He laughed, and there was wonder in the sound.

Yeah. She could believe it. She’d had about two months to get used to the idea. Two months of knowing she was pregnant, relegated to a desk job while she waited to pass the dangerous hurdle of her first trimester. Two months of trying to wrap her mind around the sudden left turn her life had taken.

She swallowed, fisting her hands so tightly she knew her nails were leaving crescent-moon marks on her skin. She shifted on the green lawn chair, trying to get comfortable. It was useless. There was nothing comfortable about any of this. “I don’t expect anything from you,” she assured him, disgusted to hear her voice was husky and thick, revealing how hard this was for her despite the pragmatic front she was trying to portray. “No child support or anything.”

“Penni…” He leaned forward to grab her hand and she flinched away. Not intentionally. Instinctively. If he touched her, she’d forget that he’d called her Brooklyn so he wouldn’t mix her up with his dead wife. She’d forget that she was just a rebound. She’d forget that her feelings for him were vastly more complicated, more immense than his feelings for her. You’re the first since my wife… Brooklyn…

God, she’d been a fool.

“Sorry.” She shook her head at the pained look that crossed his face when he quickly dropped his hand. “It’s just that…” Nothing is what I hoped. Nothing is what I wanted. “I just need a little space,” she finally said. Space to breathe. Space to think. Space to let go of her expectations. Space to let go of…him.

The lump that’d been lodged in her throat since the moment she realized her mistake in thinking she meant anything more to him than one small step up through the deep, dark tunnel of mourning grew to disastrous proportions. She was having trouble breathing. And soon, she knew she would have trouble holding back the tears welling in her eyes, the cries clawing in her chest. She needed to leave. She needed to get away.