“What now?” Penny pressed. “How do you expect to get away with it?”
“I expect we’ll get away with it together. You won’t say anything. If you do, I’ll be forced to…take Peter under my wing. As a single parent.”
“You wouldn’t kill me.”
“I love you, sweetheart.” Ryan had dropped his hand from Penny’s chin, but at his declaration of love, he grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her against him. His tongue burned against hers as he shoved it into her mouth. He pulled away, whispered hotly against her cheek, “But I won’t go to prison for you. My son needs me.”
“He’s not your son,” Penny said. “He’s my baby. Just mine.”
“I wish it didn’t have to come to this, but I planned for all scenarios. Bottle of sleeping pills, a note of postpartum depression from the doctor. It was all too much for you, the baby, the trial… It tipped the pretty Penny Sands right over the edge.”
“You’re right,” Penny said finally. “This is fate. You and me. Maybe you were right all along.”
“It’s too late for that.” Ryan clucked his tongue. “You don’t love me anymore.”
“I meant this.” Penny nodded toward the baby monitor. The one that had belonged to Anne once upon a time. The fancy-schmancy device that streamed live to an app. “Ironically, you gave me the idea.”
“The idea?” Ryan sounded unsure for the first time. “What idea?”
“You’ve been watching me for months. Creepy, Ryan. Creepy. So I figured you wouldn’t mind if I reciprocated.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Anne still has the app to this baby monitor on her phone—it was her hand-me-down. I called her on the way here, and she’s livestreaming everything we say. Recording it, too. In the car with her is her husband. Mark is a cop…but I’m sure you know that. You know everything, right?”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” Penny used the element of surprise to her advantage and jerked her knee upward, connecting with Ryan’s groin. “Sweet dreams, asshole.”
Then Penny marched to the crib and picked up Peter, deftly avoiding a groaning Ryan. By the time she made her way to the living room, the door had burst open, unlocked by the spare key Penny had left downstairs with Anne and Mark.
Mark burst into the room first, his gun drawn. Anne was just behind him, her face white, her hand clutching a cell phone where the livestream was still happening. Ryan’s groans echoed from her phone, giving an eerie surround sound to the man’s agony.
Behind Mark and Anne poured in more cops, some plainclothes detectives, others in uniform. Penny didn’t pay them any mind; she just held Peter close and huddled against Anne as Mark arrested Ryan.
When Mark appeared, leading Ryan out of the apartment in handcuffs, she met Ryan’s gaze head-on.
“You bitch,” he said. “I did this for you, for us. And this is how you repay me?”
“Take charge, asshole,” Penny said. “Never underestimate book club.”
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