“Tired. Rethinking making lunch plans with your parents, and thinking maybe we should have scheduled dinner instead,” I say hoarsely, my voice thick with sleep.
“We have an hour and a half until lunch. Think you could help me out?” he asks, grinding his erection on my thigh.
“I didn’t milk that thing dry last night?” I ask bitchily.
“You going to be a bitch now that you’re pregnant?” Jarrod asks, dragging one long finger through my slick center.
“Maybe,” I moan.
He roughly shoves two fingers inside me, causing me to gasp in surprise.
“Guess I’ll just have to fuck the bitch outta you then. Open up. Give me my pussy, Amalie,” he growls.
I do. I couldn’t deny myself his beautiful cock even if I wanted to. Jarrod removes his fingers and slowly slides his long, thick cock inside me, his lips softly grazing my shoulder blade.
“I love you, Amalie,” he whispers against my ear.
My whole body erupts in shivers. I reach my arm around to run my fingers through his hair, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest.
“I love you, Jarrod, so much,” I whisper back, lightly tugging on his beautiful deep blond hair.
It’s longer than usual—some good luck thing he and the guys did during the series.
“Love my pussy, too.” He chuckles as he pulls my hips up and begins to roughly take me.
“Harder, Jarrod,” I groan. I love it when he takes me hard and slams into me without regret or worry.
“Not now,” he moans.
I can feel his fingers digging into my hips, straining to hold back, and I know why, but I don’t accept it.
“Fuck me, Jarrod.”
He slides into me to the hilt and stays still, his hand slides up my spine and tangles in my hair. “Baby, I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice tense.
I twist my head to look back at him.
“Fuck your pussy, my sweet,” I say sweetly before adding, “Please.”
Jarrod rears back and slams into me over and over again before we’re both grunting, coming, and screaming the roof down.
“Baby,” Jarrod groans roughly as he pulls out of me.
I’m spread out on his bed, completely and totally exhausted. The man knows just how I like it.
Jarrod and I quickly dress to meet his parents for lunch at the hotel they have been staying in. We both offered to let them stay with us, but they didn’t want to impose, and maybe that was a good thing. We were pretty loud this morning.
I’m wearing a tight-fitting knee-length lavender retro dress with a square neckline. I adorned it with a small cream belt and extremely high turquoise heels. My hair is swept up in an elegant sock bun, and I have on my huge Jackie O black sunglasses. We’re heading to the Ritz Carlton, so I want to look my nicest.
We walk out of the apartment building, and are immediately swarmed by photographers all around us. This is the first time they have been waiting for us, and it scares me. I can feel a few grabbing at me, trying to get me to turn around for a photo. Jarrod grasps my hand in his, and I can feel my heart beating rapidly. I shouldn’t be so frightened, but I am. This isn’t normal for our daily lives. They are spouting off questions all around us. I can’t make any of their words out. All I can hear is the blood pumping in my ears, and I feel dizzy and sick.
My body is being pushed and pulled, and I lose my footing in my high heels. I let go of Jarrod’s hand to gain my balance back, and I feel a set of hands clamp my waist. My body is being lurched backward. I know it isn’t Jarrod. My skin crawls. It’s Eric. I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. I immediately begin to scream, but before I can, I feel something cover my mouth, and my vision begins to blur before darkness takes over.
Jarrod
Amalie is standing at my side when it seems like all the world’s reporters and paparazzi are on our front sidewalk.
Fuck. Why in the fuck are they all here? Don’t they have better shit to do?
They are tugging and pulling on both of us, and it scares the fucking shit out of me. Amalie is pregnant. I don’t want anything to happen to her. I feel her wobble next to me and let go to brace herself. I turn to grab her again, but she’s gone. It isn’t like she’s hard to miss. She’s almost six feet five in the heels she’s wearing right now, and her white hair is piled high on her head, but she’s gone. She fucking vanished.
I feel the acid enter my veins, and I know this can’t be good. This is beyond not good. This is so far from good that it’s bad. I call her name, but there isn’t any answer. There are at least a hundred people.
How could someone have taken her without anyone seeing?
But I already know the answer to that. Eric is a cop. He knows how to get away with shit.
Immediately I pick up my phone out of my pocket and call 911. The dispatcher is asking me questions, but all I can hear is the blood pumping in my ears. My Amalie, my baby, is gone.
“Fuck,” I roar.
I fall to my knees just as I see my father approaching. I don’t remember calling him, but I must have. My mind is blank. He pulls me up by my shirt collar and brings my face to his. I’m still bent at the knees.
“Hold it the fuck together, son. We’ll find her,” he says hoarsely.
I see the tears welling in his eyes. I look around and realize I’m surrounded by police and reporters.
How long have I just been sitting here?
I’m having a fucking meltdown, and my Amalie is gone.
“My baby,” I croak.
A detective appears. Between my father and the detective, they guide me back into the apartment building, and they begin talking in the elevator. I hear words about ransom and money, but I know there won’t be any calls for money. Eric has her, and with what he’s capable of doing to her, I just might never see her again.
“We’ll get her back, son,” the detective states.
I just sit down on my couch and look at him. I’m aware that I’m crying. I don’t give a fuck if that makes me a pussy or not.
“No, we won’t. He’ll never let her go, not with her life,” I state.
They both gape at me.
“Explain,” the detective says roughly.
“Her ex took her. He’s been trying to get back with her. She left him seven years ago. He beat her and raped her, and he threatened her a few months ago at one of my games. He warned her he was coming for her. He’s a cop in Miami. That’s the reason I moved her in with me. It wasn’t safe for her to be alone in Boston. I’m a fucking idiot. I thought she would be safer here with me.”
Immediately, my father wraps his arm around my shoulders, it makes me feel as comforted now as it did when I was a boy.
“Why would he do that?” the detective asks.
I don’t have to guess to know that he isn’t buying what I’m selling about his brother in blue.
Well, fuck him.
“A few years ago, after she left him, he came back to her, wanted her back. She told him no, and he beat and raped her in Boston. She was terrified of him. Apparently, he’d abused her their whole relationship, and she moved from Miami to Boston to get away from him. He thinks he owns her,” I grind the last words out.
He doesn’t own her. I fucking do. She’s mine.
“Is there any record of this?” the detective asks, already pulling out his phone to make what I presume is a call to Boston PD.
“She said there was a rape kit, but she wouldn’t tell anyone who did it. She was trying to use that evidence as safety and leverage. I didn’t think it was smart, which was one of the reasons I moved her here with me once I discovered he was back. I know he has her.” I slump my body in defeat.
My sweet Amalie and my baby…
I don’t even know if my baby will survive whatever Eric will dish out to Amalie.
“His name?” the detective asks, talking to somebody on the phone.
“All I know is, his name is Eric, and he’s best frien
ds with her brother Niklas Aagaard, who is also a police officer.” It’s true, and that’s all I know, I should have prodded her for more details.
I feel my mother’s small hands wrap around the back of my neck, and her lips are on my cheek.
“Stay calm, my love. She’s so strong, such a good girl. She’ll protect the baby with everything she is, and we’ll get her back.”
My mother’s words surround me like a warm blanket, calming me instantly. Amalie is so strong. She’s smart, and she will protect our baby. I know she will. Now, I just have to find her. I don’t care what happens as long as she comes back to me alive. Whatever hell she endures, I will fix. I just want my woman back, my smuk.
My apartment slowly starts to fill with detectives, officers, and my friends from the team. They should all be at home, spending time with their families, but they are here with me, watching me go through hell. I watch as Maggie walks up and sits down next to me. She’s such a sweet girl. Sammy did good by snapping her up young.
“She will be all right, Jarrod. You’ll see,” she whispers so very sweetly.
I nod, unable to speak.
“She’s strong—our Amalie. She loves you so very much, Jarrod. She will get back to you, back to us. You’ll see.”
More tears slowly stream down my face.
Fuck being strong. I can’t do it.
“I love her. She’s pregnant, and I’m not there to protect her.”
Maggie makes a noise in the back of her throat, and I don’t even need to look at her to know that she is crying.
Almost two hours go by before my phone rings. I almost jump out of my skin, and every single one of the ten police officers in my living room come to attention. I look at the caller ID. It is Unknown. The lead detective, Tate, tells me to answer. I was coached to stay calm, keep him on the line, and demand to hear Amalie’s voice.
“Hello?” I say as calmly as I can. It feels foreign. I want to rage. I want to beat this fucker to a pulp.
“Missing someone?” he sneers, his voice cocky.
“Where is she? Let me talk to her now,” I demand, beginning to lose my cool. I’m panicking.
“She’s fine. She’s a little thicker than I remembered, but pussy’s still as sweet.”
I see red, and my body starts to vibrate. I feel my father’s hand clamp down on my shoulder, a move he used when we were kids and fighting with each other. I look up to him, and he shakes his head.
“What do you want?” I grind through my clenched jaw.
“I want my fucking woman back, but all I hear is her bitching and whining about you. What does your dick pump? Chocolate-flavored spunk?” he asks, cackling at his own humorless joke.
What a douche.
“Name your terms. Whatever you want. Just give her back.” I’ll give him everything I have, every single dime. Whatever he wants, he can have it. I just want my Amalie back, unharmed.
“I want Amalie to bring her sweet ass home, but she’s being a pain in the ass, so I’ve decided I’ll sell her. I bet she’ll make a mint on the black market. Big natural-breasted white woman with all that light blonde hair. Fuck, it gets me hard, thinking about the amount of money I could make off of her,” he says.
I close my eyes. The fucker would know who to sell her to, too. I start to shake. I want my Amalie back.
“Let me talk to her—now,” I growl.
“All right, I’ll let you talk to her one last time. Better make it good.”
I hear some shuffling and moaning before I hear the sweetest but broken sound in the whole world.
Amalie
“Lover boy wants to chat. Wake the fuck up, bitch,” Eric says, kicking my thigh sending pain shooting through my entire body.
I’m lying on a cold concrete floor. My ankles are tied together, and my hands are tied behind my back. My whole body aches. I don’t know what kind of damage he’s done to me, but I can only pray that my baby is still safe and alive inside of my stomach.
“Jarrod,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and crackling.
“Baby? Oh God, baby. Are you all right?” He’s on speakerphone.
I’m praying he doesn’t say anything about the baby. If Eric knows, he’ll be sure to try to kill it.
“I’m okay, sweet. I’ll be all right,” I assure him even though I don’t know if it’s the truth or not. I need him to stay calm and come find me.
“I’m going to find you, baby. Swear to God, I’ll get you back.” His voice is rough and he sounds almost defeated.
I can envision him sitting on the couch, looking just as defeated as he sounds.
“I love you,” I call out.
Eric punches the side of my face. I whimper in pain before the world swims in darkness again.
I can feel my body being lifted and moved again. Eric’s breath is sour and rotten, or maybe that’s just him in general. How I ever had feelings for this man I am unsure. He disgusts me. He is revolting. I wish this were a dream. I want to wake up and be in Jarrod’s massive bed, his warm body pressed close to mine. I need him. I want him. I can’t and won’t live without him.
“Wake up, princess,” Eric says before snapping a photo of me.
My eyes feel heavy and swollen.
“Just sent that one to lover boy. It’s a shame. You really were so very beautiful.” He sighs before pulling out a knife from his pocket.
“What are you doing?” I gasp. I notice that I’m now tied to a chair.
“Your lover boy has one hour to deliver twenty million to me before I start carving you up with this knife.” He laughs, it’s acidic and disgusting.
I feel the bile rising in my throat, and my stomach is lurching.
I don’t say a word. I just close my eyes and try not to cry. Twenty million dollars is more money than I’ve ever seen in my life. I know Jarrod makes a lot of money. How much I’m not quite sure, but I doubt he has twenty million dollars just sitting in his bank account.
“He doesn’t have that,” I say sadly.
“You really are a stupid fucking bitch. Your mother was right about that.” He laughs. “He makes twenty million dollars a year just playing baseball, not including whatever the fuck he endorses. You’re such a dumb bitch.” He laughs bitterly.
I just gape at him in shock. I had no clue that Jarrod made that much. It’s no wonder he hasn’t worried about me working and he could afford his awesome penthouse apartment in the middle of the city.
We sit in silence, just staring at each other, waiting. Eric is twisting his knife around, watching the blade with a fascination that scares the fucking shit out of me. I don’t want to know, but I have to know.
“Why me?” I interrupt the silence.
His eyes dart to mine, and he looks cruel, nothing like the boy I once knew.
“You were mine. You just up and left me, and you were mine,” he states, sounding like the psycho he so obviously is.
“Eric, I’m a person. You were controlling and hurting me. I needed freedom,” I explain.
“This new guy? He gives you freedom?” he asks, looking almost sad for a moment.
“He allows me to be me. I don’t crave to be free because I don’t feel controlled, and he doesn’t hurt me,” I say softly.
I watch as he closes his eyes and then opens them again. All emotion is gone from his eyes. He looks like stone.
“He has a big family, brothers and a sister and parents who are warm and loving.”
“I would have given you a family to love, and with me, you still would have had Niklas,” he states firmly.
I have no doubt that he would have given me children, but I never wanted them with him. In fact, I never wanted them at all, not until I met Jarrod, but I don’t tell Eric that. He doesn’t need to know anything. He doesn’t need to have anything more to threaten me with.
“I know you would have. It just wasn’t right for us, Eric. Jo loves you. You know that, right?” I ask, trying to change his focus.
“Yeah. Figured that shit o
ut years ago when you and I got into a fight, and she sucked my cock like she craved it to survive.”
I gasp in horror, and Eric smiles.
“Didn’t know that, I take it? Yeah, bitch can suck a cock. That’s for sure. But I never wanted her, not when I had you. She’s skinny, no tits and no ass. You have it all, all I ever wanted. Fuck, you’re all any man ever wants. These assholes tell their girls that they’re ass men or tit men or whatever the fuck they try to sell them, but in all honesty, every man wants it all—tits, ass, hair. Fuck me, if you don’t have it all, Amalie.” He stands and walks over to me before kneeling down in front of me.
I watch in horror as he slides the knife down my cleavage. The cold blade makes my skin break out in goose bumps, and my nipples pucker. The knife cuts my dress down the middle.
“Please don’t,” I whisper with a new wave of tears streaming down my face.
“Bitch, I’ll do what I want, and what I want is your pussy wrapped around my cock. You make me so fucking hard, Amalie. It’s only ever been you,” he groans. He licks my breasts.
A sob escapes my throat. Eric doesn’t care if I am crying. I know him well enough to know that he gets off on my fear, so if I am crying, that’s even better.
A knock on the door interrupts us, and I breathe a sigh of relief. All of a sudden, Eric drives the knife into my thigh, causing me to scream in pain. It hurts so fucking bad that my eyes instantly well with more tears. I watch as Eric walks to the door and laughs sinisterly at whoever is there. Then, he opens it and waves his hand for them to enter like he’s on some fucking game show. I seriously hate this fucking bastard.
I watch as a tall man walks through the door. He’s followed by another man, a tad shorter, in slacks and a dress shirt. The second man is young, probably around my age, and his hair is clipped short to his head. I look up and see that his face is twisted in agony. He heaves a bag at Eric, knocking him down. The taller man throws himself on Eric and wrestles with him while the shorter one rushes over to me.
“Amalie,” he whispers roughly, cupping my face with his big hands.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I whisper so that he understands I don’t know who he is, but I know he must be here to help me.
Pitching for Amalie Page 20
