Page 62 of The Games of Madmen

I cover Roza’s eyes and give Vika the middle finger.

“Charming,” she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Do you need me to hang around, or can I go?”

She’s such an asshole. “We’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“Right, well, let me know what’s happening as soon as you find anything out.”

“Of course, you’ll be my first point of contact.”

Glancing at me with a mix of suspicion and concern, she says, “I can’t tell if you’re for real or just being difficult.”

“Difficult. Always,” I confirm with a smile.

She rolls her eyes and wiggles her fingers to signal her departure.

Once the door closes, I rip off the jacket I’m wearing and lift my top to check on my cut. It’s been on fire for the last few hours. There’s bruising discoloring the skin around the bandage and it feels hot to touch. Perfect.

“What a mess I’m in, my little angel,” I coo down at Roza.

My heart swells with affection when she giggles. She’s all I need.

“Just me and you from here on out,” I tell her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair is a beautiful cascade of golden curls that seems to have a mind of their own, always wild and free, just like her precocious, spirited self. Rosetta does a great job of looking after Roza’s hair.

I should call Rosetta. She’s who I genuinely feel sorry for in all this mess.

“Mama!” Roza grins at me, banana smeared all over her cheeks. She enthusiastically begins smacking her spoon off the tray. “Up! Up!”

Removing the tray, I pick her up into my arms, ignoring the pain it causes across my stomach and arms, snuggling my face into her neck. “Bath time, angel.”

After sleeping on Roza’s bedroom floor next to her crib last night, my body hates me. Despite resting for most of the day today, I feel like crap.

I’m so grateful Roza is too young to understand everything that’s going on, and that Jeremiah wasn’t hands-on with her, so she won’t really miss him. It’s harsh but true. Today has been almost normal with our usual routine together. The familiar sounds of her giggles and the soft crinkle of her favorite toys fill the room until my phone starts ringing and buzzing nonstop on the nearby dresser.

Reality forces its way back in.

“Mama loves you,” I tell her, placing her in her crib. “Snuggle your pretty little dolly and get some sleep, baby girl.” I lean down to kiss her soft forehead and pull her favorite fluffy blanket over her small body. Her thumb finds its way into her mouth as her wide, trusting eyes watch me snatch up my phone and leave the room.

I glance at my phone and see a flood of messages and missed calls from more people than I actually know. Some ask for information, while others offer condolences, and the weight of their words press down on me. News spreads fast. The police haven’t even confirmed that it’s Jeremiah’s remains.

My stomach churns when my phone begins ringing in my hand from a withheld number. I take a deep breath, steeling myself before answering. “Hello?”

“Ally.”

Adam.

Shit.

“What the fuck happened? I know you had something to do with this.” His voice drips with accusation, each word sending a tremor through my already frayed nerves.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why did you do that to her?” I manage to inject real fear into my question, hoping my confusion will make him question that maybe I really didn’t have anything to do with any of this mess.

It doesn’t.

“You’ve made a big fucking mistake, woman. I’m coming for you.” His tone is menacing, and I can almost picture the simmering anger in his eyes.

“In twenty years to life?” I shoot back, my bravado being my freaking curse.

“I won’t go down for this. I have an alibi.” He sounds confident, almost too confident.