Page 3 of Fury In Death

“And don’t think we’re going to share. Get your own ice cream.”

“Nutty Butter Chunk.”

She screwed up her nose. “Ew.”

“You’re not wrong about much, Arianna, but you’re wrong about that.” He glanced toward Luke’s room, then back at her. “Six weeks, and we’ll be doing this all over again.”

Grinning, she folded her hands on her belly. “Can’t wait.”

“I’ll be back in a flash. Love you, babe.”

“Love you back.”

He took the stairs down. The elevator would get you there, but it clanged and clunked along the journey. Since it was nearly one in the morning, and he liked his neighbors, why wake them up?

When he stepped outside, the heat hit like a wall. It made him give thanks that the old pre-Urban building had solid climate control.

Then he wished he hadn’t thought about climate control.

No point angsting over it all again. He’d do what he had to do, and he had an amazing woman with him.

He’d never fully understood what had drawn her to him, but he thanked God for it. She’d expanded his world, which had been far too insular. She’d brought in the fun when he tended to be too serious.

She’d pushed him into getting his doctorate, so as of five months before, he was officially Dr. Steven Redman.

Most importantly, she’d given him love, given him a son who was the light of both their lives. And would soon give him a daughter he already cherished.

His life was more than he’d ever dreamed it could be. He wanted to pay it back, to help others achieve their dreams, and more. So he’d do the right thing with no more worry and never a single regret.

In the summer heat, with its hazy moon, he walked the three and a half blocks to the nearest twenty-four/seven. A few others walked as he did. New York had so much to offer to so many. He’d grown up in the city, as had Ari. Now they’d raise their children in it. Teach them to appreciate its benefits, and yes, respect its dangers.

Thinking of it lessened some of the nagging worry. In a few hours, what he knew—and could prove—would be in the hands of the authorities. He’d be out of a job, no question, but he’d get another.

He’d heard good things about the up-and-coming Roarke Industries, so maybe he’d take a closer look there.

But tonight, he’d buy ice cream for his daughter.

Chloe. He rolled the name around again, found it made him smile. Those are my kids, he imagined saying, Luke and Chloe.

Yeah, that seemed downright perfect.

He stepped out of the heat and into the garishly lit freezer that was the twenty-four/seven. He wanted to tell them if they’d just keep the temperature regulated at seventy-two year-round, they’d save money. And the shock of cold.

But he gave the counterman a quick salute as he headed for the ice cream section.

“Raining yet?” the counterman called out.

“Nope, but with the humidity it’s wet enough anyway.”

He got the two pints, then, what the hell, another of Ari’s choice. Luke could have a treat tomorrow, and like his mom, Luke didn’t appreciate the flavorful wonders of Nutty Butter Chunk.

The counterman rang up the three pints. “Pregnancy cravings.”

Steve or Ari, or all three, tended to stop in at least once a week, so Steve nodded, laughed.

“Six weeks to go. Last time it was cheesy fries. I’d hear her out in the kitchen, two in the morning, go out, and she’s buzzing up a plate of cheesy fries.”

“My wife—both times—salt and vinegar chips, with the ripples. Had to have the ripples. You never know, I guess.”