by Raine Miller
Freddy went to the wet bar, poured me a vodka double and handed it over.
I gulped it down and he slapped me on the back a second time.
“I don’t think you’re going to have to go upstairs to do it,” Fred said.
I snapped my head up to ask him what he meant, and felt my knees go weak again.
Zara and Brynne walked into the room, hand in hand and smiling wide. She looked so happy . . . and beautiful . . . and . . . pregnant.
♥ “Oh, hi.” I smiled at Ethan and wondered why he looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “What are you guys gossiping about in here? Man talk?”
Ethan chuckled nervously and looked a little pale. He looked terrified actually. Now that’s very weird.
“Is everything okay? Did you get a call from Neil?” I asked, starting to feel uneasy myself. “Did he find out who sent that text last night?” I put my free hand up to my neck and tried to still the panic suddenly rising up.
The thing with Ethan is he grounds us. He’s the sure one, exuding confidence at every turn. He makes me feel safe, so seeing him look like he did right then . . . worried . . . well, it scared the shit out of me.
He came right over and pulled me close up against his chest. “No. Nothing like that.” He kissed me on the forehead and held my face, looking much more like the Ethan I know and love. “He’s still working on your phone.” He shook his head. “Don’t even think about that damn text, okay? Are you thirsty? Would you like some water? How about you sit down and get off your feet.” He led us over to the couch and practically shoved me down onto it.
“Um . . . okay.” I shook my head and narrowed my eyes at him, mouthing, “What the hell?”
“Nothing, baby. You just look tired. How was your nap?” His voice sounded strange.
I frowned back at him. “My nap was great, but I didn’t sleep a terribly long time.” Zara crawled onto my lap and I began smoothing over her long curls. “While you were off having ice cream I got a tour of Hallborough and some pictures of Mallerton’s portrait of Sir Jeremy and his Georgina for Gaby . . . and sent them off.”
“That’s nice,” Ethan said, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Yeah . . . it was nice.” I looked over at Freddy and got a strange vibe from him too. We’d had a great conversation earlier while the rest of them were gone, and he’d given me a tour of the house. Now he looked like he just wanted to get the hell out of the room. “What is going on? Why are you both acting so weird?”
Ethan shrugged and held his hands up in helplessness. “Baby . . .”
Freddy came over to where I was and held out his hands for Zara. “Come with Daddy, little one. Uncle Ethan wants to talk to Brynne.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, reluctantly handing her over. “I wanted to hear all about your trip to get ice cream with Uncle Ethan.” I made a sad face at Zara.
“The ice cream was nice,” she said from up in her father’s arms. “Mummy told Uncle Ethan she would bet the house that you is very preggers and going to be parents whether you likes it or not.” She smiled sweetly. “I shared with Rags so Uncle Ethan and Mum could yell about your preggers.”
Several things happened all at once. I was on my feet instead of the couch, but had no idea how I got there. I could see myself standing up, right in the middle of Hallborough’s beautiful Georgian drawing room with its elegant furniture and paintings and rugs. I could see Ethan’s handsome face and the afternoon sun filtering in through the tall windows. And all those particles swirling in the air—the kind that are usually invisible, but when the sunlight hits just right, you can see them lazily floating, suspended as if by magic. Come to think of it, I was floating too. The ceiling held me back from drifting away into the sky and probably farther into outer space. I would have kept floating away. I know I would have if it weren’t for the ceiling.
Ethan cursed and stumbled toward me. I kept hearing my name. Over and over I heard my name called. I could see everything. I was standing there. Ethan was flying toward me. Freddy was running out of the room so fast with Zara it looked like a blur of movie footage that was sped up. The room suddenly felt warm; no, it felt hot. Like an oven. I looked down from the ceiling at Ethan rushing toward the “me” standing in the drawing room. He reached out his arms, but then everything slowed down. Real slow. Ethan kept moving but his speed reduced even further. I didn’t think he’d ever reach me. I blinked and tried to make sense of what Zara had said. Freddy had already taken her out of the room, though, so I couldn’t ask her about it. I even heard her little voice ask Freddy, “Daddy, what’s preggers?”
♥ “I love you.” I woke up to those words coming from Ethan’s lips. I was back on the couch, but this time I was lying down. Ethan was on his knees on the floor stroking over my head and hair with a whole lot of concern in his eyes. “You’re back . . .” Ethan closed his eyes then opened them again. He looked pretty shaken up, probably a lot like I felt. Get in line, buddy. That was an out-of-body experience I just had. I could check that one off my life list now.
I remembered.
And the weight of the knowledge compressed my chest until I gasped in a huge breath and struggled to sit up. Ethan kept me down and shushed me. The urge to flee was great. It was as if my subconscious knew that panicking wouldn’t help a bit, but like with an addiction you do it anyway even though you know it’ll only make things worse.
I shook my head at him. “I’m not, Ethan. I’m not pregnant. I take my pills and I’ve never missed a day . . .”
He just kept stroking my hair with one hand, resting his other on my shoulder.
He was afraid I was going to run. I know Ethan and I can see how he thinks sometimes. He was holding me down on that couch so I couldn’t leave him, or run away, or take off, or bolt. You are a very wise man, Ethan Blackstone.
Because that is exactly what I wanted to do.
“Remember what I just said to you, Brynne.” His voice was hard but also vulnerable. I could hear the worry in it.
“That you love me?”
He nodded slowly, never taking his hands off me.
“But I am not pregnant,” I insisted. “Let me up.”
“Brynne, you need to have a test and then we’ll know for certain. Hannah and Fred think you could be . . .” he trailed off, his voice so unsure. “Hannah helped me get some pregnancy kits from the chemist’s for you to . . .”
I pushed at him hard. “Let me go!”
“Brynne . . . baby, please just listen—”
“Let. Me. Go. Now!”
He backed off. I sat up and folded my arms beneath my breasts. I felt so hot and thirsty and just plain old wrong at the moment I couldn’t be a very good judge of much of anything.
“Don’t freak, okay? We need to discuss this like adults.” His jaw ticked from the grinding of teeth.
“Yeah,” I sneered at him. “Discuss. That would’ve been a good idea before you talked to your sister and Freddy about me. Ethan!? Why would you do that? Why?”
“I didn’t. I had no idea. Hannah brought it up to me and then Fred got involved. They think you could be pregnant. Sick last night, napping all the time, and . . . other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
Ethan looked like he would rather swallow a mouthful of glass than have this discussion with me right now.
He grimaced. “Would you just take the test?”
“No! I won’t just take a test because you and your family think I should! What other stuff?!” The irrationality I knew I shouldn’t be allowing in was getting the old security guard wave-through. Welcome to HorrorLand, please park in lot You’re-Royally-Fucked and make your way to the main gate, where you’ll be greeted by your worst nightmare.
He brought both hands up to my chest, cupped a breast in each and squeezed. I winced from the pain and the panic pumped up another notch. I remembered this kind of pain from before. I’d felt it before. Noooooo!
I pushed his hands away sharply. “You talked about
that with them?! Oh my God!”
“It wasn’t like that, Brynne. I didn’t talk about you. Hannah just assumed some things and when I asked for an explanation she told me about . . . symptoms.” He lowered his voice. “You have all those symptoms. You’re getting sick and taking naps and they hurt . . .” He gestured at my chest and trailed off, the wariness in his voice making me feel like a bitch again. I knew I could dish out bitchiness in spades when the occasion called for it. This could be considered one of those times.
I leaned forward and buried my hands in my hair and just sat there, staring down at the floor and tried to process. Ethan let me be, which was a damn good thing because I wanted to lash out and bite like a trapped animal would do. Symptoms . . . My periods are never much and I’ve missed them completely before. My doctor assured me it was normal with the particular kind of birth control pill I take so I’d never worried about it. Truthfully, though, I’d not needed to worry because when you aren’t having sex with anyone, you don’t have to worry you’ll get pregnant! Before Ethan, sex was sporadic and always protected. I wasn’t fool enough to let a guy go without a condom when we didn’t know each other very well. So why did I with Ethan, dumbass? Hell, Ethan had only used a condom one time. Once. Lots and lots of opportunities for the little swimmers to find a way in. Again, I’m a huge enormous dumbass.
Being sick the night before had felt very odd, because as soon as I puked it was like nothing was wrong with me at all. The same thing happened at breakfast this morning. I was really hungry, and then when the food came I just wanted toast. Come to think of it, my stomach felt weak right now. That late lunch of a roast beef sandwich was not settling in well. My breasts did hurt. I’d taken naps the last two days.
Everything illuminated and came together in a flash of understanding and terrible anxiety. Why was Ethan so calm? He must be appalled too if this was true.
“It can’t be true. It just can’t,” I said to no one in particular.
“Remember what I said, Brynne,” he said with an edge.
I reached out with my hand and he grabbed it, too overwhelmed to really answer him. What could I say to him anyway? Sorry, my birth control pills malfunctioned? I’m a fucked-up mess and always have been, I might as well get knocked up so I can screw up my life some more? Or, I know this is complicating your stressful life, Ethan, I’m really, really sorry about that, but we’re pregnant.
I swallowed convulsively. Watery saliva began pooling in my throat. More came, and then more, and I knew I would be horribly sick again. I struggled to manage the effects of the nausea that overtook me so suddenly.
I lost.
Lurching up, I ran for the closest bathroom, my mind desperately trying to remember the floor plan of this huge labyrinth of a house. My hand over my mouth, I stumbled into the powder room just off the solarium and flung myself over the toilet. I puked my guts out until there was nothing left to come up.
I wanted to run away.
♠ I’d been here for the second time in less than twenty-four hours with my girl and it sucked. Especially for her. Talking seemed like a pointless exercise, so I didn’t. I just held her hair and let her go to work on expelling the contents of her stomach. I wet a cloth with cold water from the sink and handed it to her. She took it from me, pressed it over her whole face and groaned. I felt completely helpless. You did this to her and she hates you for it.
Fred tapped on the open door. “House call,” he said kindly.
“Can you give her something, Fred?”
Brynne took the cloth away from her face, looking pale and about ready to cry. Fred smiled at her. “I can give you an anti-nausea but it’ll just be symptomatic.”
“Please,” she answered, nodding her head.
“What does that mean, just symptomatic?” I asked.
Fred spoke to Brynne. “My dear, I don’t feel comfortable doing a treatment on you if we don’t have a confirmation. Are you ready to try a test?” He spoke gently. “Then we’ll know for sure and you and E can decide what’s best for the two of you. We really need that test first, though.” He gave a quick nod.
“Okay.” That was all she said and she spoke to Fred without even looking at me. She seemed rather cold and sort of detached, like we were strangers now. That hurt. I desperately wanted her to look me in the eyes, but she wouldn’t. She just held the wet cloth to her face and kept her eyes locked on the wall.
Fred set the two test kits down on the sink counter. Hannah had helped me choose them in the village earlier, because I sure as hell didn’t know what I was doing. After that conversation with my sister, she’d convinced me I needed to buy some pregnancy tests. This was surreal. It really was. Here we three were standing around in a bathroom trying to pretend this was standard operating procedure when, in fact, it was totally fucked up. My Brynne at metaphorical gunpoint practically being forced into a surprise pregnancy test, and with me knowing about her past and the other time she was impregnated.
FUCK! I wanted to punch the wall again but didn’t dare in this place. These walls were worth too damn much.
Lots of crazy thoughts flooded my brain. What if she hates me for knocking her up? What if this breaks us? What if she wants a termination? What if she isn’t even pregnant after all and this scares her off? I was terrified but I still wanted to know. Now. I needed some answers.
“Right,” Fred said, “we’ll talk in a bit and work on getting you to feeling better, my dear.” He eased out of the small room to leave but turned back to say something else. And there was Brynne standing stiffly with downcast eyes like a cornered animal. It broke my heart to witness. It really fuckin’ did. “Brynne, we’re here to help and support in any way that we can. I mean that and I know that Hannah does too.”
“Thank you,” she answered in a small voice.
With Fred gone it was just the two of us. Brynne didn’t move, she just stood there. It was awkward. I wanted to touch her but was afraid to.
“Brynne?”
She lifted her eyes and swallowed, looking miserable and pale. The second I moved toward her she backed up a step and held up her hand to keep me away. “I—I need to be alone . . .” Her bottom lip trembled as she choked out the words. So different from when it turned up in a sexy smile. Brynne usually smiled a lot more than I did. Her whole face lit up when she did it. Whenever she smiled, it made me want to smile in return. She made me want a lot of things I’d never cared about before too. But she wasn’t smiling now. She was scared to death.
It killed me to see her like this. “Baby, remember what I said.” I stepped out of the bathroom but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be right beside her when she found out. I didn’t want to leave her alone. I wanted her in my arms telling me she loved me and that we could do this. I needed that from her right now and I knew I wouldn’t be getting it.
She met my gaze as she started to shut the door slowly. “Don’t forget,” I said just before it closed and I was facing an elegant carved door instead of my girl, who was struggling on the other side of it.
Time passed slowly as I waited for her to come out. My dread grew exponentially as the minutes ticked away. I checked my mobile for messages and responded to some of them when I got to a text from Neil: Have news on Fielding. MP rpt.
I dialed and waited for the connection, staring at the bathroom door and wondering what was happening inside. My mind went on full alert as I transferred into protection mode.
“Boss.”
“A missing person? Fielding is missing? Please tell me that’s not true.”
Neil sighed. “Yeah, report was filed just a few days ago by his parents, who live somewhere in the Northeast; Pennsylvania, I think. Last confirmed contact was the thirtieth of May. According to the report, he didn’t show for work. His apartment checks out. Passport left behind and no evidence of a hasty flight. The consulate of course has no record of travel outside of the U.S.”
“Fuck, that’s not nice news, mate.”
“I know. The poss
ibilities are endless. His father suspects foul play, and has said so in interviews to the papers.”
“I bet Oakley’s camp loves the press.” I said sarcastically.
“No accusation, though. Senator Oakley is not mentioned, so the connection hasn’t been made between Montrose and Fielding to Lance Oakley.”
“So let’s extrapolate this. Congressman Woodson’s plane goes down the beginning of April. Oakley’s name starts popping up as a replacement almost immediately. Montrose gets in a bar fight and takes multiple stab wounds to the neck and chest on April twenty-fourth. The motherfucker dies two days later in hospital. Suspect unknown. Tom Bennett contacts me and I take over here on the third of May with Brynne at the Andersen Gallery. Fielding’s last sighting was the end of May. Everything’s quiet for a month. Text from ArmyOps17 to Brynne’s mobile last night, the twenty-ninth of June.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s your gut telling you about Fielding? You’ve seen the reports.”
“I think he’s dead in a shallow grave somewhere or maybe in the Pacific feeding the fish.”
“Connected to Oakley, you think?”
“Hard to know. Justin Fielding had a drug problem. Cocaine, apparently.”
One of the reasons Neil and I worked so well together was our thought processes were so in tune. Neil wasn’t a babbler. He said what was needed and didn’t pad the conversation with useless crap. Just the facts. And his instincts were dead-on, so when he said he didn’t know, that meant things were still falling into place.
“Okay then. We have two of our video perps out of the picture, one dead and one confirmed missing. The third is on active duty in Iraq and a very improbable suspect. The text came from inside the UK and from someone who saw the video at some point in time because they knew the song that was on the original.”
“That’s about right.”
“How do you feel about a little trip out to California?”
“I could do that. Can work on my tan and kill two birds with one stone.”
“All right then. Have Frances set you up for early next week. I can’t have you gone until I’m back in town.”
