OUR NIGHT TOGETHER WAS ALMOST perfect. Rosslyn loved the building and the restaurant idea. I could see the sparkle in her eyes as she took in the room and visualized what the place could be in her mind. Making her happy made me happy, so until she brought up the subject of going to work, I was content.
I couldn’t stomach the idea of hardened criminals surrounding her. The thought had never crossed my mind when she was in school for criminal justice, and I hadn’t thought past her graduation. I just knew seeing her flourish in her classes made me feel proud. Seeing her confidence build as her GPA rose and her professors praised her—it was amazing to watch.
It wasn’t until she walked across the stage at graduation and began talking about all the possibilities she had with her new degree that it sank in.
Criminal Justice.
Criminals.
The woman I loved would be working with dangerous people. I knew dangerous people and hardened criminals; I knew their inner workings. I couldn’t fathom the idea of her working alongside the same people I’d once rubbed elbows with. I didn’t want to think about the terrible things they’d be thinking about her.
About her body.
Her smile.
Nausea swept over me.
I had to protect her. I had to make her understand how unsafe it was for a woman like her to work with criminals, and I had until our wedding day to press that understanding into her.
Rosslyn wasn’t helpless. She was amazing. She was strong—vital—but I’d seen the strongest struggle to survive with those types of people. I’d struggled. I couldn’t stand by and watch as she willingly threw herself in the path of menace.
So when a few weeks went by without even a callback from her many interviews, I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t completely relieved. Don’t get me wrong—I felt bad that she was starting to feel rejected, but the relief was overwhelming.
In the mornings, after I’d spend the night in the club, I’d crawl into bed next to her and pull her small frame tight against my body. I’d breathe her in and silently thank any god willing to listen for keeping her out of harm’s way—for keeping her away from working with criminals.
I knew the relief I was feeling would only last so long. Rosslyn would be a valuable commodity to any program she found herself working for, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before someone realized that. Until then, I relished in her safety, knowing that every minute we weren’t together she was safe, somewhere tucked away from the mean streets of New York and the dangerous criminals who roamed them.
Thinking of all the ways working with criminals could harm Rosslyn had me so distracted that I didn’t even hear Mac come into my office. My head snapped up when he dropped the day’s mail onto my desk. My eyes lingered on the stack of envelopes then I acknowledged him.
“Anything good today, Mac?”
“Depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Depends on if you think another mysterious letter from our little friend is something good.”
I flipped through the envelopes, finding the one without a return address and its familiar slanted writing.
Shaking my head, I chuckled sarcastically. “This fucker isn’t letting up.”
“Nope.” Mac took the seat in front of my desk and rested his large arms against his thighs. “Ready to let me deal with this now?”
I shook my head as I ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter.
“That won’t be necessary, Mac. Like I said before, I’m sure this guy’s just …”
And then my eyes took in the threatening words that littered the mostly empty sheet of paper.
My body stiffened as anger streaked across my soul.
This letter was different from the rest.
Not only did this fucker mention Rosslyn, but he also signed it with some ridiculous nickname. The script suddenly looked angry and jagged—dangerous. I’d always blown off the bullshit letters thinking it was some head case trying to get his kicks, but this shit was different. This time, it sounded like a threat against what was mine—against my Rosslyn.
“You okay, Black? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Mac asked.
“Find the motherfucker sending these letters, Mac. Find him and bring him to me.”
My eyes locked with Mac’s, understanding passed between the two of us, and he nodded.
“Consider it done.”
I didn’t remember much about the rest of my conversation with Mac, but I did know he left with the intention of bringing me the man responsible for threatening me and threatening what was mine.
Later, once the club had closed for the night, I climbed the stairs to our condo and crept through the place careful not to wake Rosslyn. I went straight into the bathroom and stripped down naked before I stepped under the scalding shower water.
I washed away the night of worry.
I washed away the smell of alcohol and smoke that came with owning a club.
I washed away the regrets that I held.
I should have listened to Mac. I should have sent him on a search for the author of the mystery letters much sooner. And when he brought the person forth, I’d be sure to show them exactly what threatening me or the woman I loved got them.
THE FOLLOWING DAY, ROSSLYN AND I went to sample cakes. I spent the day surrounded by frilly things and flowers, tasting some of the most delicious cakes I’d ever tasted. Still, a sourness settled into my stomach that I knew wouldn’t go away until Mac brought me what I’d asked for.
I pretended all was well and kept a smile plastered on my face even though my heart wasn’t in it completely. It wasn’t that I wasn’t excited about the wedding; it was that I couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was taking away all of my joy. Even when Rosslyn looked up at me with almond crème icing slathered around her sweet lips, I couldn’t feel anything but fear.
I wasn’t afraid of anything.
At least, I never was until I met Rosslyn.
I had so much more to lose now than I did when I was young and stupid.
“And what about the guest list?” the baker asked as she chatted with Rosslyn at my side. “Your mother, your father? All the family will be there?”
Her question was like a lightning strike to my spine. I saw the exact moment that same lightning struck Rosslyn, too. Her back straightened and all the pretty pink hues on her happy cheeks disappeared.
Guilt thickened in my gut with the fear and sourness. Suddenly, I felt as though all the cake I’d tasted came rushing up the back of my throat—sweet and choking.
“Actually,” Rosslyn started before clearing her throat. “My parents are no longer with us.”
No longer with us.
It sounded much better than, “my fiancé murdered my mother and father.”
Which was essentially what I’d done.
Sure as I pulled the trigger myself, I’d killed them.
Thanks to me, their daughter would walk down the aisle without her father on her arm. No one would give her away and it was my fault. There would be no mother there with a gaudy flower pinned to her mother-of-the-bride dress suit. None of that would happen for Rosslyn, and I’d made it so.
As if sensing my inner disturbance, Rosslyn placed a soft hand on top of mine. My eyes met her, and I tried with all that I was to tell her I was sorry in those few seconds that she looked at me, but no words would roll over my thick, dry tongue.
“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that,” the baker replied.
Sorry.
Was I going to be sorry for the rest of my life?
I would have no more regrets from this moment on. I’d make sure of that, which meant I’d find the person who threatened anything or anyone in my life. And when I found them, I’d kill them, too.