Page 151 of Vega

“That’s everything right now.”

Jamir sighed. “Damn.”

“Get me the appointment,” I said.

“I got you.”

The call ended, and I stood there for a few seconds with the phone in my hand. I wasn’t sure this was enough to end Roman, but it was the safest way to spare lives.

A week had passed since the shooting, and every day had been its own fight. Lowe had survived the first forty-eight hours, made it through another surgery, and finally started breathing without the machine, but the doctors still weren’t calling it a victory yet. His body had taken too much damage. The bullets had damaged his thigh, hip, and the nerves that controlled his leg. His foot still wasn’t functioning properly, and the doctors couldn’t say yet if that would change with time, surgery, and rehab. They kept talking about more procedures, infection risks, rehab, and the possibility that Lowe might have to learn how to walk all over again. Lux still barely left the hospital. None of us were thinking clearly. That was why I needed Jamir to find me a way that didn’t turn into another bloodbath. I wasn’t sure this was enough to end Roman, but it was the safest way to spare lives.

When I left the bathroom, the bedroom was quiet. Sonnet and I had been staying in the presidential suite of a hotel for a week. The first few days had turned into straight erotica in that motherfucka. I had put every ounce of guilt, stress, fear, and rage into her body, and she had taken it. We had barely left the bed. The suite had room service, blackout curtains, a shower big enough for me to turn her every which way but loose in that motherfucka, and a woman I loved walking around in my shirts. I only left to sit with Lowe. All business had paused until Roman was disposed of.

For a few days, I let myself pretend sex could burn away everything waiting outside that hotel room. But it couldn’t.

Soon enough, Sonnet started feeling caged again, however. She spent more time near the windows. She watched people on the street with hunger in her eyes. She kept asking if she could make store and coffee runs. I kept saying no because Lowe getting shot had made me harder to reason with.

I had always been protective. Now I was unreasonable. Before Jamir called, we had been arguing about it. She wanted to go outside. I wanted her to stay locked away from potential danger. She wanted to walk through the city for twenty minutes and feel air that didn’t come from a hotel vent. I wanted to lock down every floor and exit, and shoot every person that came within ten feet of her.

She understood why I was acting that way, but she also hated it.

I walked into the living room and found her sitting in the wide window, knees pulled up, one shoulder against the glass while she stared down at the busy downtown Chicago street. Cars moved bumper to bumper under us. People crossed at the light with bags, coffee cups, phones, and places to be. Everybody down there had a life that didn’t require permission.

Sonnet wanted that.

She turned her head when she heard me. Then she rolled her eyes.

I stopped near the back of the couch. “That was aggressive.”

“You deserve worse. I’m grown as hell but you won’t even let me go downstairs.”

I rubbed a hand over my beard. “I said you couldn’t go downstairs alone.”

Her eyes flashed with resentment. “So, what am I supposed to do, Vega? Sit in this suite until you decide the world is safe enough for me?”

“Yes! The fuck. I watched Lowe almost die on the floor of that van! I was literally begging that nigga to stay alive! I’ve never prayed that much in my life! God don’t even know me like that! So yeah, I’m keeping you under lock and key to protect you! I’m trying not to lose you next.”

“And I’m trying not to disappear inside another locked room,” she said. “You keep calling this protection, but it feels too close to captivity again.”

I took a step back, hating that I was making her feel this way.

She wiped under one eye, mad at herself for crying and mad at me for being the reason. “I know you’re trying to save me. But I can’t breathe in a life where every door only opens when you say it can.”

She slid out of the window and walked across the living room, barefoot, wearing leggings and one of my T-shirts. Her hair was pulled back messily and her glasses sat on her face. She was beautiful even when she was mad at me. Especially then.

“I’m tired, Vega.”

I watched her pace past the dining table.

“I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of people almost dying because of me.”

“It’s not because of you. This is all Roman’s doing.”

“You can dress it up however you want, but that’s what it feels like to me.”

I walked around the couch. “You think running around downtown makes that better?”

“I think feeling human might help.”