Cowboy Daddy

by Hannah McBride

  “You’ll make a great cop, sweetie,” Tyler reassured her.

  “Here! On the right!”

  He screeched to a halt and they both leapt out the car, racing down the gravel driveway to the front door of Frank Morgan’s mansion.

  The place was open and waiting for them; no security, the electronic gates open. Even the front door itself had been left slightly ajar.

  “Ah,” came a voice from inside. “I was wondering when you’d – “

  The sneering, smarmy voice cut off midway when it caught sight of who had just walked into his house, not just Tyler Preston, as he had expected, but also –

  “Jamia?” Frank Morgan stared in amazement, looking between the two of them, clearly confused. “What the – “

  “ – hell are you doing, Dad?” Jamia finished Frank’s sentence for him, then pointed at Michael. “Let this man go, immediately.”

  Frank sighed and shook his head. “I really wish you hadn’t come, Jamia…I never wished for you to see this side of my life.”

  “I saw enough of it when I was growing up,” she snapped, unafraid to stand up to him. “I saw enough to know it wasn’t what I wanted.” And with that, she took out her phone.

  “What are you doing?” He narrowed his eyes at her as she raised the phone up and began to take pictures.

  “You don’t scare me, father. I know you won’t hurt me, even if you’ll hurt others. I’m still your soft spot…and I won’t let you get away with this.”

  Tyler stood there open mouthed, watching her in amazement. He had never formed any kind of plan as to what they were going to do when they got there, only that they had to rescue Michael somehow, even if that meant negotiating with Frank, but clearly, Jamia was not interested in negotiation. He hadn’t been expecting any of this, but he was incredibly impressed.

  “I’m sending these pictures to the press,” she continued, then she turned on her heels and began to walk out, pressing the phone to her ear. “And now I’m calling the police, the real police that help people out. The police that one day I’m going to be a part of. And for once, I’m going to make sure you don’t get away with this.”

  Tyler was flabbergasted. And so was Frank. And so was Sal.

  Jamia turned and walked out, pressing the phone to her ear as she called 911.

  None of them were expecting what happened next.

  One of Frank’s employees, worried about his boss becoming incarcerated and the rest of them getting into massive amounts of trouble for the death of Trent Preston, decided to take action into his own hands.

  He raised his gun and fired at Jamia.

  After that, everything was a blur.

  Chapter Ten

  Tyler Preston spent the next twenty-four hours in the hospital, at his – apparently very pregnant – girlfriend’s side.

  Girlfriend. Yeah, that was what the nurse’s kept referring to her as, so in a way, he had just accepted it.

  He’d had to accept that he was going to be a father, and that the grandfather of that unborn child had orchestrated the murder of his own father, so if he’d managed to accept all of that, then surely he could accept that he had a girlfriend.

  Still, he’d never imagined he would be the type of guy to settle down and have a relationship but…this was Jamia. She was different from all the other girls he’d met. She was special. She was…well…she was the mother of his kid. Wow. Yeah. They were having a kid. He totally, one hundred per cent wasn’t ready for that, but after she’d been admitted to hospital with the gunshot wound to the shoulder, they’d done some routine tests and confirmed that her fears had been correct about her late period. Apparently their contraceptive methods hadn’t been entirely successful.

  Still…if they could handle a showdown with a bunch of gangsters, surely they could handle a kid together.

  Tyler reached out and held the spoonful of soup to her mouth insistently. “You really need to try and eat this.”

  “But it’s disgusting,” she protested wearily, rolling her eyes.

  “Look, as soon as we get out of here, I’ll get you some seriously awesome NYC food, I promise,” he smiled. “But for now, you’re just gonna have to cope with the hospital shit.”

  She groaned and opened her mouth to accept the soup, then smiled and glanced him up and down. “Why don’t you come here and give me a snuggle?” She patted the bed beside her and scooted a bit to the side.

  He went to the door of their private hospital room and shut it to block out the sounds coming from the hallway. As he walked back to the raised bed he cocked his eyebrow at her.

  “Do you want some of this?” he asked, wiggling his hips in her direction.

  She giggled at his antics. “Right now I just need you to hold me. The other can wait until you get me out of here.”

  He laid down beside her and placed his hand on her flat stomach, rubbing lightly.

  “When I heard that gunshot I was so frightened and then all the blood…Your dad was so angry at his guy for shooting you that the cops barely got him pulled off by the time they got there,” he whispered. “That guy could’ve killed you or this little guy, and I don’t know what I would do.”

  “Oh, little guy, is it? It could be a girl.”

  She ran her fingers slowly through his hair as he continued to stroke her belly. It was hard to believe that there was a little life growing inside her. She’d never thought about being with someone permanently, let alone having a child. Tyler was opening her world up in more ways than one.

  “Boy or girl, I don’t care, babes. As long as you are both safe I’m a happy man. I can see that I’m going to have to get my shit together since I’ve got a girlfriend and a baby on the way. I guess it’s time for me to start acting like an adult and not just a playboy,” he said. He looked into her eyes hoping to see her approval.

  “What are you going to do? You’re rich so you don’t really have to do anything. You can be a Mr. Mom,” she said with a laugh.

  “I need to do something with myself. I need to prove myself to you, to my dad. He would’ve loved being a grandfather. He would want the business to go on and stay in the family. I’m gonna talk to Michael about it and ease myself into it gently,” he said. “I’m going to leave a legacy for this little one.”

  “How is Michael? Is he ok? Did the cops get my dad?” she asked pushing herself into a sitting position and gasping in pain as her shoulder pulled.

  “Take it easy, babes. Everything is fine. The cops had been keeping an eye on your dad for some of his more unsavory activities and it didn’t take them long to get there after your 911 call. There was so much ruckus after you got shot your dad forgot all about Michael. He’s coming back later to check and see how you’re doing.”

  “That’s why I had to get away from my dad and his lifestyle. He corrupts everything he touches,” she said as tears began to fall from her eyes. She fell back on the bed grasping her injured shoulder.

  “The police have him for kidnapping now, and that woman who was there was a dirty cop. She was in charge of my dad’s case and she’s in bed with Frank. The cops took her in too,” he said. “The whole ordeal is over now, thanks to you and Michael.”

  “I’m just glad we got there in time. My father would not have hesitated to kill him if he didn’t get what he wanted,” she said.

  “Well, you have a new best friend in Michael. The way you went charging in there and getting yourself shot. He’s not going to forget that you did that for him,” he said. He bent down to give her a gentle kiss and brush the hair back from her brow.

  Two seconds later there was a sharp knock at the door.

  “Come in!” called Tyler.

  “Good afternoon,” announced the plump but muscular man in his forties who stepped into their small hospital room. “How are you doing Miss Morgan?”

  “I’ve been better,” Jamia answered politely.

  The man who had just walked in was wearing a suit, and Tyler had a good idea what this was ab
out seeing as he had had a word with the local police department a couple of hours earlier, while Jamia had been unconscious having the bullet removed from her shoulder.

  “In light of your intelligence, commitment and bravery over the course of this case, I’d like to talk to you about offering you a place at the police academy this coming September.”

  Jamia gasped, smiled, and then looked at Tyler, then a sudden frown came over her features, at which, the man smiled again, and continued, “Mr. Preston here has also informed me of your happy news. Many congratulations. And, I can assure you, it won’t interfere with our offer of a place.”

  He held out his hand for a shake.

  Tyler looked at her proudly, then nodded in encouragement. “You can do it,” he whispered. “I believe in you. And I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Jamia whispered back.

  It was the first time they’d told one another, but it wouldn’t be the last.

  Jamia reached out and shook the hand of the police commissioner. It was the start of a brand new life for the both of them…no wait, for all three of them!

  His Prey

  By: Cassidy Rowe

  His Prey

  © November 2017 – All rights reserved

  By Cassidy Rowe,

  Published by Passionate Publishing Inc.

  This is a work of fiction. All names and characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

  This book is for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher.

  Warning

  This book is intended for adult readers, 18+ years old. Please close this e-book if you are not comfortable reading adult content.

  Chapter 1

  Vanessa counted the streetlights as the bus roared forward on the main thoroughfare of the suburban sprawl where she was raised. Two, four, six, eight, ten. She lost count as they spattered light into the darkened bus while nightfall spilled across the sky outside. Usually Vanessa’s journeys on public transportation were limited to the sheltering light of daytime. Her six-year-old sister’s recent epilepsy diagnosis confined the convenience of the bus to times when the jittering of excess light wouldn't spur a fit or a seizure. These were the things she had to think about, the little details that swoop in to disarm you when you think you’ve got everything together. She’d had to step up in the last year, to assume the role of Mother, Father, Sister, Provider.

  As Vanessa gazed out the window, she could feel shards of her old life nicking her from across the landscape of her consciousness. Independence was something distant to her now, something illusory. She’d forgotten the boundless, untethered feeling of something as simple as going to the grocery store by herself, the exhalation of autonomy swirling in the air around her. She’d taken the first twenty years of her life for granted, living as a normal child in a regular suburb with ordinary parents and a lackluster view of her own sovereignty. Now the memories of her parents being alive, cooking dinner, helping with homework, mopping floors… it all seemed jumbled inside Vanessa’s head, memories mingled with dreams in the same far-fetched, mental mirage.

  It’s human nature to think that the death of one’s parents—the irreversible scorching away of a person’s fundamental support system—is the ultimate tragedy in life, especially for a young person without a life of their own yet. But somehow, for Vanessa, this wasn’t true. She didn’t know if it was just in her case or if everyone went through this—if it were some sort of rite of passage for everyone whose parents were ripped right out of their lives—but the aftermath was what really stung. Sure, receiving the news that she’d never again see her mother and father was devastating—worse than devastating, a cataclysm of every child’s worst fears rolled into one burst of anguish—but she only had to receive the news once. One time, and then it was over.

  What wasn’t over? The stillness in their bedroom. The dust collecting on her mother’s books. The runaway follicles in her father’s horsehair brush. Their toothbrushes, side by side, never to be used again.

  Vanessa woke up every morning hoping for the pain to ease, for reality to seem more normal, for the grief to subside, for Emma to understand. And yet every day, Vanessa was faced with more uncertainty, more bereavement, more despair. Emma was still a small child, and her disability branded her with an extra layer of frailty that Vanessa couldn’t seem to shelter. Being an orphan at the blink of an eye, being a parent, having to raise a child alone, bearing the weight of disability… these were all nearly unbearable realities to live out on their own. But for Vanessa, they were all sides of the same die thrown onto the board game of her life. She was all of these things, all at once.

  Tonight Vanessa looked down in horror at an empty box of tampons staring back at her. Normally she remembers to pick up all her essentials during the day, when Emma’s in school. But these are seas that Vanessa is still learning to navigate: the uncharted waters of remembering everything all the time. Under the weight of what day the water company takes out the monthly bill from her checking account, the strain of learning to cook more than frozen pizza, and the feeling of treading water professionally, forgetting to pick up tampons on her way home to get Emma seemed like a tidal wave that would capsize the ship she’s trying to steer through the bluster that’s become her life.

  Leaving Emma with her next-door neighbor, Vanessa decided to take the bus rather than ride her bike to the store. It was getting late, the darkness felt prohibitive and uninviting… and selfishly, Vanessa just wanted to feel what it was like to be chauffeured again. Her life had become so unrecognizably complicated in the year since her parents’ death that the notion of sitting in a seat and being driven to a destination felt almost unreachably luxurious.

  When the stoplights didn’t beam themselves into the bus with the same speed, Vanessa glanced over at the doors of the bus. As they opened to accommodate new passengers, a face from a few years back illuminated itself in familiarity: the dimpled smile of a cheerleader from her high school named Talisha. Though they never really talked—just shared a few classes together—Talisha’s face lit up as she noticed Vanessa and approached her with what seemed like excitement.

  Internally Vanessa groaned. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to get wrapped in a blanket of nostalgia for a time that seemed like eons ago—a life that she can’t even remember now under the weight of her almost immobilizing responsibilities. All she wanted was to look out the window for a few minutes, to feel the serenity of solitude, the luxury of loneliness. All day long she catered to customers and all night long she entertained the babble of her kid sister. Vanessa just needed a few minutes to herself, just a little bit of privacy… but apparently that wasn’t in the cards tonight.

  “Hey,” Talisha said warmly, sitting in the seat next to Vanessa.

  “Hi,” Vanessa said, reluctantly picking up her head from the window of the bus and sitting up straight.

  “How are you doing?” Talisha asked in what seemed like a genuine tone.

  “Fine,” Vanessa quipped, unsure of whether Talisha was just making small talk, or if she knew about Vanessa’s parents.

  “That’s good…” Talisha said, dropping her tone. “I, uh… I saw the news report last year. I’ve been thinking about you,” she said, looking Vanessa in the eye. “I didn’t know how to reach out, or even if I should… so I didn’t. We didn’t really know each other in school, but when something like that happens, it’s instinctual to want to do something, to say something, to let the person know you care…”

  “That’s all right,” Vanessa said sharply. Talisha was picking at the scab of a wound that had taken months to clot.

  “Well, okay,” Talisha said, aware of the awkward energy she’d brought with her into the bus, the vapor of social clumsiness floating between them. “So,” she began in an effort to change the subject, “you’re in la
w school, right?”

  “I was,” Vanessa sighed. It was becoming clearer each second that Talisha wouldn’t let up, that she was too curious to realize how her meddling was making Vanessa feel. “I had to drop out to care for my sister,” Vanessa admitted quietly, rolling the corners of her paper bus pass between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Oh God,” Talisha said, putting a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry. That must… be… hard…” Her voice drifted off and neither of them said anything for a few seconds. “What are…” Talisha began, unsteadily. “What… are you doing for money right now?”

  “Well,” Vanessa began with an even deeper sigh, hoping to indicate to her socially tone-deaf seatmate that she clearly didn’t want to discuss any of this, that her entire life had become a bubbling cauldron of anxiety, that she was just trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace. “I work part-time at a restaurant. I’d like to work some more, but my sister needs someone home with her at night.”

  “Oh,” Talisha said, inhaling deeply. “Well, that’s, um… that’s too bad.”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa said in an attempt to sever the conversation, turning her head to the window once again.

  “You know,” Talisha said, stiffening in her seat, “I’m, uh… I’m working at a nightclub now. As a waitress. It’s not too difficult, you don’t need any skills, just connections. I could hook you up, if you think you’d be able to work a few nights a week.”

  Vanessa wanted to roll her eyes. A waitress, she thought to herself, yeah right. She could remember a time when the passable word was “dancer,” the word they all used to refer to the profession with a hint of playful whimsy, a lighthearted wink toward something otherwise scathing and low-class.

  “No thanks,” Vanessa said, never letting her eyes stray from the window.

  “It’s not what you think,” Talisha said immediately, a little too defensive to be taken seriously.

  “I know what it is,” Vanessa said, turning to Talisha as the bus slowed. “I’m not interested, and even if I was, I can’t leave a six-year-old at home alone,” she replied, grabbing her purse from beneath the seat.