by Lane Hart
“I dunno, baby. Let’s try it out first,” I hedge, just before I grab Blair and toss her onto the mattress, making her squeak when she bounces. I follow her down, climbing on top of her, and kissing her lips before she can protest. Her legs automatically spread, welcoming me between them, even though we’re in public.
God, I need her tonight.
It’s been too long since we’ve been sleeping in those uncomfortable recliners in the living room. Tonight, we’ll finally remedy that.
Fuck that, I’m ready to take her to bed now.
“I like it,” I say against her lips before I reluctantly roll over and stretch out next to her, flat on my back before I fuck her in the middle of this store. Tilting her head, Blair looks over at me through lust-hazed, midnight blue eyes, her cheeks pink with arousal, her butterscotch hair fanned out around her like a halo. She’s so fucking gorgeous it hurts, and she’s mine.
We may have had a bumpy ride, but we made it here, to an almost normal life. There’s still a trip to North Carolina we have to eventually make, and the police I somehow have to figure out how to get off my ass. But I know that despite whatever obstacles come, I’ll try to give Blair everything she could ever want or need. And without a doubt, I’ll worship and protect her until I take my last breath.
“I love you,” I tell her, the words rolling freely off my tongue even though it’s the first time I’ve ever said them to a woman.
“I love you, too,” she replies just as easily before brushing her lips over mine. “Take me home,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am,” I agree, jumping up and pulling her to her feet.
Once we find the king size comforter set like the one we rolled around with, I insist she pick out some dresses since I have plenty of things to wear at the house. When we pay, I make sure to use the cash I pulled out of my parents’ account, the blood money from her dad, or from the woman who wanted her and him both dead.
While I want to think we’re safe and in the clear, I’m not stupid, and I don’t think that Nadia bitch is either. When she figures out the hitman is dead, she’ll send someone else after us. So for now, we’ll lay low, use cash, and try to avoid going out in public too much until we’re ready to take a road trip.
Chapter Nineteen
Aden
I wake up in a strange bed, one so small my feet are dangling off the foot of it. Then I hear it…the sounds of people fucking.
For a few frightening seconds, I think I’m back in that house, trapped without a chance in hell of escaping.
But then I remember I’m at Brede’s parents’ house with him and Blair.
They love each other; I’ve heard them say so.
I’m not capable of love. And now that I’ve sent Blair’s recorded statement and blood stained dress to the FBI office, two things that should seal the deal on getting my dad out, I feel strangely….empty. Hopeless about the future.
Knowing there are at least two guns in the house perks me up.
This isn’t the first time I’ve considered taking my own life, but I’ve never wanted it more. It may seem like taking the easy way out; but with the constant chaos in my mind, it may be the only way for me to finally find peace.
…
Blair
I wake up with a smile on my face, snuggled down in soft comfy sheets and a new comforter, Brede’s warmth engulfing me from where he’s spooning against my backside.
Last night had been hot and sweet as we explored every inch of each other’s bodies, taking our time until we both lost our patience and were frantic to be closer. Brede moved inside me slowly but possessively, telling me he loved me over and over.
Sure, my body is a little sore, but in the best way. The muscles in my thighs burn from exertion, and patches of my skin are chaffed from Brede’s face that hasn’t been shaved in a few days. My breasts also ache and feel fuller where his hand continues to cup one in his sleep. My boobs usually only get this way right before my period starts, not that I’ve had many. Sometimes I would go months without one, likely because of malnutrition when I was in the hospital…
I try to think back to the last period I had. It was around my birthday, about two weeks before I left, and I’ve been out a little more than two weeks, so it should be time.
Unless…
Unless I’m pregnant.
Holy shit!
Filled with excitement and anxiety, I start to roll over and wake up Brede to tell him, not that I know for sure. First, I need confirmation.
Slipping out of his grasp, I ease off the edge of the bed and put on a pair of panties and one of the summer dresses he bought me yesterday while we were shopping. The brush of soft cotton causes my sensitive breasts to ache even more, especially on the sides. Feeling them…they’re definitely bigger, and that never happened around my period. I’ve always been pretty much flat chested. I’m starting to think it’s actually possible that there’s a baby growing inside me.
Knowing I’ll need some way to pay for the pregnancy test, I crouch next to Brede’s discarded pants and slip a credit card from his wallet since I don’t see the usual wad of cash he carries. He probably locked it up somewhere in the house, and I don’t have time to hunt for it.
As soon as my sandals are on, I glance back at the bed and make sure he’s still out. Brede’s arm is lying heavy in my now empty spot as he sleeps on his stomach, his chestnut hair messy and sticking up in all sorts of directions after my fingers tugged on it for hours last night. His dark tattoos stand out against the stark white of the sheets and comforter, making him look badass even in his sleep, and even with blue and purple flower prints scattered around him. He’s gorgeous, and while I desperately want to crawl back in bed and curl up with him, my mind is racing, needing to know for sure.
There’s a pharmacy just two blocks over, so I can get there and get back before he wakes up.
Aden’s door is still shut when I walk past it down the hall and into the living room. As quietly as possible, I unlock the two deadbolts on the front door and ease it open. It doesn’t make a sound as I step outside and shut it behind me.
Gripping the credit card tightly in my fist, I practically jog in the direction of the store. Still feeling paranoid, I occasionally look over my shoulder, just to make sure there’s no one there. The coast is clear, and soon I’m walking through the automatic sliding doors, relieved to feel the cool breeze of air conditioning on my skin.
Finding the aisle for family planning, I grab the early detection box with two tests so I can be sure of the results, before heading to the register. For a moment I worry that the credit card may not work and that I’ll be screwed. I can’t wait to find out if we’re gonna have a baby!
Thankfully, the transaction goes through without a hitch. The young guy working the register barely even greets me, too preoccupied with something on his phone. I nearly shout at him to hurry up when he takes his time dropping the box into the plastic back and tearing off the receipt.
Instead of heading back to the house, I weave my way through the aisles to the restroom in the back of the store. As soon as the door shuts behind me, I’m tearing into the box. Quickly reading the instructions, I open both test packets, uncap the ends and pee on them at the same time.
This is it.
In just a few moments, I’ll know if a baby is growing inside me. It’s insane the amount of hope I have for the answer to be yes.
I sit there and stare at the two pieces of plastic as time ticks by incredibly slowly. The control lines gradually turn pink while I chew on my bottom lip, waiting for another line to appear. And like magic, there are two distinct pink lines on both sticks staring back at me.
I’m pregnant.
While a torrent of worry bubbles up inside me, there’s also overwhelming happiness, because of the instantaneous and automatic love for the little person growing inside me, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Of course, I’m also scared of the unknown, and don’t know shit about kids or babies, but Brede
and I can figure it out. Together. And Aden… sure, it may be his son or daughter, but that doesn’t bother me. I love him too. Maybe not the same way I love Brede, but I care about him and want him in our life.
It sometimes scares me how much Aden reminds me of other patients in the mental hospital, talking to himself or pretending to be someone else, but we can get him help. Just like we’re gonna get their dad out of prison.
It feels like I’m floating as I wash up in the sink, a smile lighting up my reflection in the mirror.
Clutching the positive tests and Brede’s credit card, I step out into the store and head for the exit. The summer heat slams into me as I walk outside, and I can’t wait to get back to the house.
As I turn the corner of the building to cross through the neighborhoods behind it, my feet suddenly come to a stop as reality slaps me in the face.
I’ve stupidly been daydreaming about a future and a family with Brede and ignoring the high probability that any day now he could get arrested and sent to prison for murder.
Just like his father.
No. I can’t let that happen. He killed Roger to save me, and I refuse to sit back and stay silent while he’s hunted and then taken away in handcuffs.
I’m pregnant, and I need him so damn much.
His father is still sitting in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. And while I thought Aden was gonna be the one to help get him out, now we know he was lying about being an agent. Brede can’t go forward and ask for help with his father’s case since he’s wanted. It’s up to me to save him. Both of them.
Turning around, I walk back into the pharmacy and ask the guy at the register to look up the address for the police department.
…
“So, let me get this straight. When you were eight, you saw your father, District Attorney Trevor Lockhart, kill your mother, Valerie Lockhart. And then he framed her lover, Benjamin Rawls, for it, and he’s now serving a life sentence?” the middle-aged detective asks, raising one of his dark eyebrows skeptically.
“Yes,” I answer with a nod.
“And why haven’t you said something before now?” Detective Matkins asks.
Ugh. Here’s the part where I lose any ground I managed to gain with him.
“I’ve been locked away in a mental hospital because they thought I was suicidal, but I’m not crazy.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Lockhart, but this isn’t our jurisdiction…”
Shit.
“My father paid off the police in Lexington so he can get away with anything, even murder. Now this Nadia Taylor is doing the same thing! No one there will do anything to help us! She tried to kill me, and my boyfriend saved me, but he…he had to kill Roger Lemons to do it.”
That makes the detective sit up a little straighter in his chair, taking me more serious.
“When was that?”
“About two weeks ago. And then a man, Dalton something, came after Brede’s parents, Paula and Jim…”
“The Willards?” Matkins asks, and I nod. “They were friends of my parents. Nice people.”
“They were, and they were murdered by a man hired by this Nadia Thomas bitch.”
The detective’s eyebrow lifts again at my name calling, but then he picks up the phone. “Let me try and find a federal agent in the Carolinas who can look into this.”
“Thank you,” I say, nearly jumping over the desk to hug his neck. He didn’t throw me out and call me crazy. He’s taking me seriously.
An hour later, and the interview comes to a very anticlimactic end.
“Sorry, Miss Lockhart, but that’s all we can do for now. And although it sounds like self-defense, your boyfriend needs to turn himself in, or he’s gonna dig his hole even deeper.”
“No,” I say, getting to my feet, clenching the positive tests and credit card still in my fist. “He’s not gonna turn himself in and then sit in prison the rest of this life like his father.”
“He can’t go around killing people and walking away either,” the detective argues with a scowl. “Look, if he would rather turn himself in to the feds in North Carolina, I might be able to look the other way for a few hours, but after that…”
“If I leave, you’re gonna have me followed, aren’t you?” I ask indignantly.
“Harboring a fugitive is a serious crime, Miss Lockhart,” the man answers seriously. “It would be in your best interest to persuade him to give himself up.”
Tears fill my eyes when I realize that I can’t go home or call Brede. By trying to help him, thinking I was setting things right, I’ve ruined everything! They’re gonna find him at his parents’ house now, and it’s my fault. I have to find some way to warn him.
“I was wrong to trust you,” I say before I turn around and leave, not having a single idea where to go.
Walking away from the police department, I try to think of what to do now. If I can find a pay phone, I can maybe call Aden. Do cell phones even take collect calls?
Dammit! I’m so screwed.
That’s my last thought before I’m jerked backward, my scalp burning as someone tugs on a handful of my hair. I fight to get free of the hold, my elbows ramming into the asshole’s stomach, assuming it’s one of the cops following me.
But as soon as I feel the cold steel of a knife against my throat, I go completely still. There are two things I know for certain. This isn’t a policeman; and with one flick of their wrist, I’m dead, just like how my father killed my mother.
Chapter Twenty
Aden
“Blair? Blair!”
I startle awake when the bedroom door flies open so hard it bounces off the wall, then my brother is filling the space, naked, his chest heaving like he’s about to blow.
“Where the fuck is she?” he yells at me.
“Not in here,” I reply defensively, throwing off my covers to prove she’s not hiding underneath them in the tiny bed. “I haven’t seen her.”
“Fuck!” he roars, practically shaking the windows throughout the house.
Turning away, I hear his footsteps stomp through the house before the front door is apparently yanked open with another bang. Did he just walk outside naked?
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I climb out of the bottom bunk to go try and calm my brother down. Not that I know where Blair is, but it’s doubtful that she ran away. She loves Brede, so she’ll be back. He just needs to calm down until that happens.
When I walk out of my room, I hear rustling coming from across the hall, so I stick my head into the other bedroom. Brede is dressing hastily while flipping through his wallet.
“She took a credit card. What the fuck is she doing?” he asks me.
“No idea.”
“Why didn’t she fucking wake me up?” he barks, shoving his feet into shoes.
“Maybe because she didn’t want you to know what she’s buying,” I offer.
Freezing, my brother stares at me, as if waiting for me to elaborate.
“Fuck if I know,” I answer, throwing my hands in the air. “I just live here.”
“She’s gone, and she’s fucking pregnant!”
“Wait, what? She is, like, for sure?” I ask him. “Why didn’t you tell me since, you know, she might be carrying my spawn?”
“I’m pretty fucking sure. I haven’t brought it up with her because I was scared she’d freak out,” he says, flopping down onto the edge of the mattress and stabbing his fingers through his mussed hair. “But there’s already a small swell on her lower belly, and her breasts are at least a cup size bigger.”
“Wow,” I mutter, not sure what’s more shocking, that Blair’s pregnant or that my brother noticed those slight changes in her before she did. It’s only been a few weeks, so I didn’t even know it had been long enough for her to be pregnant. But what the fuck do I know? “So it’s obviously mine, but there’s no reason to lose your shit because she ran out,” I tell him. “She’ll be back. Just calm the fuck down.”
“It’s still not safe for
us.”
“Have you gotten any more messages on Roger or that other dude’s phone?” I ask.
“No. The bitch is smarter than that. I just have this feeling, you know?”
“That all hell is breaking lose?”
“Yeah, something like that,” he answers.
“Look, you’re probably just freaking out because of the baby and the stress of losing your parents. Go take a shower, cool down, and I bet she’ll be back by the time you’re finished.”
“You think so?” he asks, his identical blue eyes begging me to say so even if it’s not true.
“Of course,” I tell him, not sure if I actually mean it. Now that he’s mentioned it, something does feel…off.
“Fine,” he grumbles before getting up and heading across the hall to the bathroom. As soon as I hear the water running, I start going through his drawers, looking for those two cell phones, knowing how criminals think. Not finding them, I rush into the living room and finally spot the devices on the kitchen counter. Neither are on, so I power them up and wait.
It doesn’t take but a moment for a text message to pop up, one sent just ten minutes ago. It’s a photo of Blair, her mouth gagged, eyes closed, hogtied on the floor. And for once I’m not even slightly aroused by the sight, because I know this isn’t good.
The words underneath say, “Come and get her with my money. You’ve got thirty minutes,” with a local address.
It’s a trap. Of course it fucking is. But it doesn’t matter as long as she’s alive. So I text back, “Send me proof that she’s still alive.”
A moment later the phone rings, and then I hear her voice. “Brede? Don’t come! Please don’t come!” before it disconnects.
Fuck.
Now how the hell am I gonna explain all this to Brede without him losing his shit? And the better question is, what the fuck are we gonna do?
I know one thing. If Brede goes barging in there like a madman, he’ll die; and I’m not about to let that happen to him.
Pressing the three numbers into the phone, I hit send and do the unthinkable.
