Mariah: The M Series: Book Two

by Ryanne Anthony

  “You never talk about them.”

  “I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. I don't want Pops to think I don't...”

  “I get it.” He snuggled me closer. “You can talk to me about them. I'd like to hear about your father and the twins, whatever you remember of them.”

  I looked at him. “You would?”

  “Of course,” he answered. “You didn't think I wanted to know about them?”

  “Honestly, it never crossed my mind. I wouldn't mind, when a thought strikes. If you're not busy, that is.”

  “If I am, I’ll stop and listen. You can tell me anything, baby, and we'll work it out together. Okay?”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  I don't think that's true. Like if we were to tell him we were pregnant, how fast would he take his ring back and give us the boot without a backward glance?

  I hissed then smiled. “Okay. I'll remember that.”

  “Good.” He raised my shirt and placed his hand on my tummy. I gasped.

  “What are you doing,” I asked, horrified while trying to move his hand. What if he felt something?

  Like what?

  Hell, I don't know!

  He didn’t feel anything this morning but our sex with his cock and mouth, so why would he feel anything different, now?

  “I'm going to rub your belly and make you feel better,” Marcus murmured.

  I wrenched his hand away. “You have more patients, Doctor. Behave.”

  “Yes, Miss Hollander, soon-to-be Mrs. Cannon.”

  “Mrs. Cannon is your mother and Mandy. I don't think the world can handle three of them.”

  “Too bad. It's going to happen. Someday, maybe, Matthew will stop fucking his way across America and settle down, and then there will be four.”

  “What a thought,” I laughed, and attempted to pull myself out of his grip. “Millie's going to knock the door down in a minute if we don't get out of here.”

  “Let's test that theory.”

  He kissed me but after about ten seconds there was a knock on the door. “Doctor, your next patient is in one,” Millie called.

  “Told you,” I whispered, giggling.

  “I'll be right there,” Marcus called back. “To be continued,” he murmured as he released me.

  I gave him tissues to clean his lips of my gloss. “Get out so I can clean the room, Doctor.”

  I turned away from him and felt a hard smack on my ass.

  “MARCUS!”

  “What,” he said as he gave me a look like the one Matthew made when he feigned confusion or innocence.

  “Ooh, get out of here,” I ordered, in mock anger.

  Laughing, he opened the door and stopped. “Hello, Miss Jones. Nice day today, huh?”

  “Dr. Alexander,” Millie droned. “You missed some on your Cupid’s bow. And your next patient is waiting in Room One.”

  “Yes, ma'am, Miss Jones,” he saluted and chuckled as he wiped his lip.

  Millie entered and helped me clean. When we were done, she turned to me.

  “Why are you waiting to tell him?”

  “Huh?” I frowned at her. “Tell who, what, Millie?”

  “Dr. Alexander, about the baby.”

  “What? What baby?” I murmured as I turned and wash my hands.

  “Don't play me for stupid, Mariah.” She stepped next to the sink. “It's all in your face, has been for a month, at least.”

  I stared at her. “I don't know how. I have to think things through.”

  “Listen, Mariah. That man is so far gone over you. You have nothing to fear by telling him, I guarantee it. You should have seen the look on his face when he opened that envelope you left. He read the note and all the blood drained from his face. I just knew he was going to faint. He kept asking 'what happened?' over and over. He finally heard Val say you'd just left and bolted down the stairs. He was a ghost that week and it was not good to watch. That kind of man is not afraid of anything the woman he loves has to say, especially about her giving him a child. Tell him,” she urged.

  I tearfully studied her face. “I'll try tonight.”

  She gives me a long, pensive look then pulled me in a mama-bear hug. “Good,” she whispered. “And congratulations. You two are going to be great parents.”

  * * *

  At dinner, I picked over my food. It looked delicious but fish had not been my thing lately and the herb salmon with couscous and asparagus Marcus prepared was not helping matters.

  “Everything okay,” Marcus asked.

  “I was just thinking how Evelyn and Russell eloped. I think that's so romantic.”

  “Would you like to elope, too, baby,” he asked, taking my hand.

  “I don't know. Maybe. Is that something you would be open to?

  “Whatever you want. As long you're Mrs. Cannon when the ink dries, I don't care how we do it.”

  I smiled at him. “Really, Marcus?”

  “Absolutely. Don't doubt it, baby.”

  “That is something to think about. Evelyn asked us over for a dinner party, by the way. Saturday night. She's attempting to placate her in-laws and needs family support.”

  He stroked my hand. “Sure, I don't mind. Would you like to go?”

  I shrugged.

  “What else is bothering you, baby?”

  “When are we going to talk about the baby issues,” I blurted out.

  His hand froze and his whole demeanor changed. “Is your inner clock ticking already?”

  No, it's on snooze for a few months.

  “I just wanted to know when we were going to talk about it.”

  He picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. “You want to discuss it now?”

  I put my fork down. “Yes, somewhat.”

  “Somewhat?”

  “I don't want to spook us, Marcus, but I need to know what I'll be saying I do to in a few months. Are we going to have a life with or without children?”

  Marcus took a deep breath and released it. “Honestly, Mariah, I thought I was ready to ask you to let go of the birth control after we married. I know it's what you want and I want to give you whatever you want but...”

  Oh, no… there's a 'but'.

  There's always a 'but'...

  “If we had to discuss this now, then no. I still don't want children. It's not to say I won't change my mind later but right now? No.”

  “So I'm marrying a maybe. Is that maybe leaning closer to one way or another?”

  “It's at the mid-point. I'm fifty-fifty and that's the best I can do right now.”

  Fifty-fifty? Not good enough.

  My gut hurt. I couldn’t tell him now. I had to play this off.

  I looked at my hands in my lap. “All right, Marcus. Subject dropped.”

  “Good. Are you going to eat your dinner?”

  “No, I've lost my appetite. Sorry.”

  Dejected, I went to the bathroom and drew a hot bath. There was no way we could survive this, I thought as I added the scented oil to the tub. Jesus, how could I have been so stupid? I should've gotten on the pill and committed to it.

  Marcus was going to flip out when I told him then throw me out. What would I do then? Go back to Lisa's? No, I couldn't barge in on them with a screaming baby. Maybe go to Mom's. She and Pops would take me in.

  Damn it, I thought as I lowered into the tub. If I did that, I'd have to say why and Marcus would look like the bad guy. No, I couldn't do that to him. This was not entirely his fault; it was both of ours but I should’ve done something better to protect both of us.

  And Pops was Marcus' business partner. They’d have meetings, possibly at the house. There was no way I could continually cross Marcus' path and be able to get over him. He wouldn’t have that problem. He’d get over me quickly, forgetting all about the ex-fiancée with a child he didn’t want.

  I had to leave town. I vowed not to tell anyone about the baby and get up one morning and just go. I could use the money Pops sneaked into my ac
count and find somewhere to go far away. But where? I'd need some help.

  Dr. Wilson.

  Yes! She'd help me once I told her what's happened.

  I smiled at Marcus as he entered the tub with me. I settled into his chest, deciding to think on this further, later. He squeezed some of the hot, soapy water on my body then gently rubbed the sponge over my body as he talked about Saturday.

  I was going to miss this and everything with and about him.

  Forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m Christopher Richards, P.I…

  I hate doing these kinds of jobs, always have. People who purposely disappeared, I meant. Most times, the reasons they left was due to something they felt was dire and couldn’t get past and suicide was not an option. It never should be, in my opinion, but I understand that sometimes, the world, and life, can kick you right in the ass.

  I wondered daily what was so dire with the beautiful Mariah Hollander.

  I swear that girl's picture haunted me every damn day. What the hell did they do to her? Something was funky about the whole fucking situation, if you asked me. Pretty girl like that... talented and smart from what I heard and seen... what couldn't work out with them, especially a fiancé, who clearly loved her as much as life?

  Why the hell would she run?

  The day she was found started with grousing about my fucking cell phone ringing again. Now what, I wondered as I answered.

  “Richards,” I snapped.

  “Sir, Parker here.”

  I immediately calmed when he said his name. “What do you know, Parker?”

  “I found her, sir. Mariah Hollander. I fucking found her. And you're not gonna believe this...”

  Jesus, he had my attention. I guessed my questions about why were soon to be answered.

  “What is it, Parker?”

  “She's pregnant. Very. I'd guess nine months because she looks ready to pop.”

  Scowling, I had to ask, even though I knew what Aaron Parker said was truth. He was beyond OCD while he was investigating.

  “Are you sure? Cannon didn't mention she was expecting.”

  “Sir, I'm emailing photos now. I just snapped them, maybe ten minutes ago. Uh... okay, sent. Check it out.”

  “Hang on.”

  I looked around, mumbling. Where's the damn iPad? Oh, yeah... yep, on the coffee table. Damn. What's with the dust everywhere? Where's the fucking cleaning lady? Fuck! I fired her ass. I needed to call a cleaning service a-fuckin’-sap.

  Then I had to remember what the fuck’s my password... I finally figured it out and immediately accessed my account.

  “Well... I'll be damned. Right down to the burn. Her face is a little puffier than from the pics from Cannon but... yeah, I'd say that was her. Five fucking months and there she is. Who's the guy she's holding on to?”

  “Her boss' gay son.”

  “Boss? This pregnant and she's still working?”

  “She is. In a little coffee house, coupla blocks from her place. She's on her way there now from a doctor's appointment. She starts a shift at four today.”

  “She living by herself?”

  “No, she's living with a Maggie Sullivan. No idea of the connection.”

  “You just find her today?”

  “No, about a month ago, I waited a few weeks to track, because of the baby. It took me this long to get info. People in the area are unusually tight-lipped and it took more than money. I'll send a full work up in an email. You should alert the family; it is definitely Ms. Hollander.”

  “Gotcha. Send the report, and I'll call now. Good work, Parker. You get the bonus.”

  “Thanks, sir. After this case wraps, I need a month off. I'll approach this evening.”

  “Fine on both. Call if you find something new, like where the hell she's been and doing.”

  “Right. R.O.”

  I ended the call, staring at the new pictures. Pregnant... and she didn't tell him? Or did she?

  I really, really hate these fucking jobs. I should not have taken this case, but Cannon knows how to make it worthwhile...

  1:15. I scowled as I looked around. Matthew's brother was late. I gotta get away from here. Fucking hospitals made me nervous as hell. All the sickness and death... plus I damn near got trounced in this one for boning a nurse on her break, by her husband, a janitor.

  Mmm... Sherrie. I must give her call soon, see if she divorced that loon yet.

  And what's with all the Thanksgiving decorations? Is that soon? Right. It was mid-November already. I’d better have Miss Flowers book me a ticket home soon.

  “Are you Richards?”

  I turned. A man with jet black hair, blue eyes and full facial hair was glaring at me. Better stand. I may have fucked his wife, and he looked ready to fight.

  I stood, skimming him. Looked like he'd been to the gym, since he was wearing sweats and a tank. California weather amazes me, still. I sweep him again. No, he's jogging somewhere.

  “I am.”

  He extended his hand. “Marcus Cannon.”

  I guessed either he and Matthew looked nothing alike or the beard was hiding it. I nodded and shake his hand. What's with the goofy watch?

  “Mr. Cannon, yes. Christopher Richards.”

  “It's Doctor Cannon, but call me Marcus,” he said as we moved to sit at the table.

  “All right, Marcus... Matthew says you have someone you want to locate.”

  “My brother is right. A woman... my former fiancée. She walked out on me last month.”

  “She walked or you suspect something else?”

  “She walked. She left a note and her ring. She didn't even take her car and left damn near every piece of clothing she owned.”

  He passed me a worn letter; it looked like it'd been opened several times. I carefully opened and read it.

  10/24

  Marcus,

  I'm sorry. We aren't going to work out. Please know that I love you but in order to keep us from suffering more later, I feel it would be best if I end this now. I hope and pray you find someone better suited for you; who can give you everything you want and don't want. You will never know how sorry I am that it turned out to not be me. I know you don't now, but someday, boo… someday, you will understand and agree with my decision. All my love and best wishes for your future.

  M.

  “October twenty-fourth… that’s the last time you saw her?”

  He nodded. “I left in the middle of the night; emergency here at the hospital. I hadn't heard from her all day but I thought nothing of it. She never bothered me when I had emergencies. She had been distant, but I didn't...” he frowned and looked down at his hands, which were shaking.

  Jesus... this guy's hurting.

  “You bring pics?”

  “Several.” He reached around to his back and tosses them on the table.

  I looked at a picture and a beautiful woman with big brown eyes was staring back at me.

  I whistled. “What a beauty.”

  “These pictures don't do her justice,” he muttered. “None do.”

  I bet. Another picture, a full shot of a man kissing her neck, her eyes closed enjoying the intimacy.

  “This you?”

  “Yeah, the night we got engaged.”

  Last pic was of the woman and a thin, older Caucasian woman.

  “They look alike,” I observed.

  “That’s her mother. Mariah's mixed-race. Her birth father was African-American.”

  “That's her name, 'Mariah'?”

  I pulled out my damn notebook. Even her fucking name's pretty.

  “Yeah, Mariah Nicole Hollander. H-O-L-L-A-N-D-E-R.”

  “Okay. Got it.”

  “Are taking the case?”

  “Absolutely. Pending fee approval, of course.”

  “I don't give a shit about your fees. A hundred grand to whoever finds her, two hundred to you to stay on their asses until they do. Plus, expenses. Here's your retainer, two-hundred thousand.�
��

  He tossed a large, thick envelope on the table. I whistled again.

  “You really want to spend at least five-hundred large finding her?”

  “Absolutely. I love her. I miss her. Her whole family does. We need her back here. Three weeks without her is a lifetime. She's worth at least a million more.”

  “Give me some stats on her.”

  “Five-seven, 125 pounds. Long black hair and built like someone put her together in a doll factory. She has ballroom experience and sings like a fucking canary. Search her name or mine and you'll pull a video of her singing with Jesse Harper the night we got engaged, and my proposal.”

  I pulled out my phone and connected the head set. I hit the search app, typed in her name and the video popped right up. My eyebrows shot up. They're singing “Baby, It's Cold Outside” and they sounded phenomenal together.

  “She's a professional singer?”

  “No, she's nurse, if you can believe that. An R.N. Fucking good at that, too.”

  A nurse? With pipes like that?

  Marcus glanced at his watch. “I gotta get to her mother's. She's been distressed, to say the least, since Mariah disappeared. She's her only remaining birth child.”

  “Excuse me, 'remaining'?”

  He inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Mariah's birth father and twin siblings perished in a car crash when Mariah was eight. Mariah was the lone survivor.”

  I whistled yet again, shaking my head.

  “Mariah has burn on the left side of her neck, down her arm and around her back. She can be self-conscious about, especially when she's nervous.”

  “All right. Got it. Anything else you can think of? Something or someone from her past?

  Anything can help the leg work.”

  He took another deep breath. “Last February, her boyfriend at the time beat the shit out of her. Her best friend, Dr. Nathan James, who is now engaged to her stepsister, got him off of her and he's supposed to be locked up.”

  I hate a motherfucker that would hit a woman.

  “Do you know that asshole's name?”

  “Just 'Vince'. Mariah never mentioned a last name. This happened in Evanston, Illinois, where she is originally from. Her mother married Dr. Thomas Harvey II, and they moved here. She also mentioned a Dr. Wilson, a female therapist, who helped her get through the abuse.”