Her Designer Baby: (Loving Over 40 Book 1)

by Washington, Shawna

  If he’s not hurt already.

  And it’s him I’m worried for.

  “Am I?” Emilio smirks. He glances towards me, and then he looks up, at the rearview mirror. The headlights there are beginning to burn brighter.

  Is it Alexei? Hope surges through me. And then, there is another flood of worry. “Yes,” I tell him. “Emilio. Stop the car. And let me out. And we can just…”

  “Just what? Go out and get some Italian?” He smirks. “Looks to me that I’ve got him right where I want him.” Gripping the wheel, he jerks it to the left, takes a sharp turn down another narrow street. We’re going south. Downtown, where the streets are quieter, much less busy at this time of night. Downtown it will be much easier for Emilio to do whatever he’s...planning to do.

  “I’ll be honest. I wasn’t too sure he’d come running after you, Radiah. Not after the way you talked about him. The way you talked about your relationship, I was afraid he’d never bite. Then again, I could see it in your eyes.” He smirks. “And I figured the same thing was in his eyes too. I guess my instincts were right all along. You’re definitely the key to getting Alexei.”

  “And that was your plan all along. You didn’t happen to be at that bar. You were waiting for me to leave the penthouse.” I’m not asking. I know now. Everything, all of it, from the moment Emilio had sat down beside me in the bar had been a careful plan geared toward this. To get Alexei. “You killed Boris.”

  His little smirk widens. Again, he turns the car at a sharp angle. But those headlights don’t dim. Alexei is coming. He’s coming now—the headlights flash, they glare so bright my eyes water and the car jolts forward, bumps with a shock of impact to the left. “Just like I’m going to kill Alexei.” He shrugs. “It pains me to say this, Radiah. But of course, you understand. I can’t leave behind any witnesses.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I know the kind of business he’s in. But I’ve never imagined men like Alexei or Emilio actually killing women who had nothing to do with anything except for the fact they were dating a rival. “Are you saying you’re going to kill me?”

  “Not me. I mean, I might be the one pulling the trigger. But Radiah. You know as well I do where the blame needs to go. It’s all him. Him. Being with him is what’s going to kill you, Radiah. I’m only sorry you didn’t have the chance to get away from him before it came to this.” He glances at me. The engine revs. “Times are changing, Radiah. It’s not what it used to be. Now it’s all, or it’s nothing.”

  “I thought…” Drawing a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes closed. Even though I know now that everything Emilio and I had talked about had been a lie, I still can’t believe he is willing to kill me. “You said… You said you wanted a family too, Emilio. You said that you…” It’s hard to make the words come out. “You said that you had dreams.”

  “Maybe. Once. That was a long time ago, Radiah. Not anymore. No. I’m like Alexei now. And he is like me. Men like us, we aren’t meant for women like you. We aren’t meant for the kind of life you dream about. He knows it. He knows that he’s the one that put you here.”

  “No.” My eyes fly open. I shake my head. “He’s nothing like you and you’re nothing like him. Alexei would never kill someone who had nothing to do with anything. Alexei’s never even killed anyone that does have something to do with it.”

  Emilio’s little smirk turns into a thin-lipped sneer at the admission. “Good to know. I guess Alexei is not as dangerous as they make him out to be.”

  Frowning, I turn to look over my shoulder. I can see the car coming behind us. I think I can almost see him—the shadow of a man behind the wheel. I think I can almost see the sharp glint of his eyes. I know Alexei. I know what he must be feeling now. I know how determined he is to reach me. I know if sheer willpower could project him here, into this car, he’d be here right now.

  I know he’s coming, and I know he won’t stop coming.

  “Little further.”

  Emilio isn’t talking to me. He’s muttering this to himself, under his breath. On either side of us the streets change; now, on the left, the street turns into a dock. Beyond that, I can see the dark of the water. On the other side of the street the buildings are low and flat, they are warehouses and shipping yards. Even with the windows closed I can smell the salt of the bay, of the ocean.

  The headlights become unbearably bright. The skid of the tires shrieks against the asphalt. The car shifts. Alexei is bumping the car, trying to force it off of the road!

  The car jostles again. Reaching for the dashboard, I grip onto it. And Emilio curses. The car swerves up onto the dock; overcompensating, Emilio pulls the wheel hard in the other direction.

  For a sickening moment, we spin.

  Then, the car jerks, hard. Like something on the outside has stopped us. Emilio doesn’t even try to backup, or to go forward. We are pinned between the water and Alexei’s car. There is nowhere to go. Alexei has us cornered.

  At our side, the headlights glare in a continuous shine. Alexei’s car is stopped too.

  In the dark, the two cars must seem like two wild animals poised before a strike.

  Emilio stays still. His eyes are on the rearview mirror. I don’t think he thinks Alexei will come so quickly, but I know he will. I know Alexei is not going to hesitate now.

  In the space of a half of a heartbeat, I see him. I see the door open and I see him leaping out, and I see him coming forward.

  Emilio sees him too. It’s only a displacement of light, at first. It’s only the flood of the headlights being halved by movement. And then it’s Alexei, tall and everywhere, an approaching darkness breaking the blinding light into shards of movement.

  I want to scream at Alexei to duck. I want to scream at him Alexei, he has a gun!

  At Emilio’s side the gun flashes, heavy and gray. That gun...I don’t know if Alexei is packing. For some reason, I don’t think he is. And even if he is, I don’t think he’s drawn his weapon. I think he might be afraid to shoot with me so close to Emilio.

  I know he’d rather give himself up than take the chance of getting me injured, or worse. What he doesn’t know is that Emilio intends to kill me no matter what. That’s the kind of thought that might not even come to Alexei; it’s so opposite to his own nature.

  “Let the games begin. See you soon, Radiah,” Emilio says. And with a sudden movement, he pushes his car door open.

  I still think I might scream. But the sound of the first shot makes me jump. Instinct tells me to duck, to get down, to hide. I’ve never heard a gunshot before. It’s so loud. It’s everywhere.

  But Alexei…frantic, refusing to look through the window in the back of the car, terrified of what I might see, I look down at the floorboard. I don’t know what I need, but I know I need something. I don’t know what I can do, but I know I have to do something. I don’t see anything that I can use. Nothing that I could somehow use as a weapon.

  Desperate, I snap the glove box open. Pulling the papers out, I let them scatter to the floor. I feel like crying. I feel like hitting something.

  Another shot rings out. And then another.

  The frustration and the fear are almost too much to bear. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.

  I don’t know until I see it. It’s perfect.

  It’s a big metal flashlight. It’s industrial. Heavy duty. So heavy I have to hold it with both hands to control the weight of it.

  Gripping it, steeling my nerves, I push my door open. The shots are ringing now, one after the other. They slam into the dock; they strike against Alexei’s car. I don’t see Alexei. But I see Emilio.

  I’m so scared I can hardly move. I’m so scared I don’t even think I’m breathing anymore.

  There’s no time to second-guess my plan. With the gun pointing at the end of his extended arm, Emilio is walking towards Alexei’s car. Whatever cover Alexei might be taking is about to be taken from him.

  This is it.

  Alexei

 
The brake lights flash red. The lane of oncoming traffic fills and I cannot make another pass.

  Squinting, I keep focused on the car. It is about five cars in front of me and I know I cannot lose this vehicle. If I do, he will have Radiah. And if he has Radiah, he is holding all of the cards.

  Central Park West is always a busy street, no matter the time of day. People weave between the traffic to cross the streets. The stoplights flash and flash again.

  I think I see someone get out of the car I am following. I think this, I cannot confirm this. Whoever it is, it is not Radiah, and it is not Emilio. I don’t know if it’s a deliberate ruse, to try to confuse me, but I will not let the car out of my sight. I have no doubt she is in it and I have no doubt they will try to put as much distance between us as possible. What they intend to do to her once they have her alone, I will not allow myself to think over. I know what they did to Boris. I know these men have no qualms about killing in cold blood.

  As we travel further down the street, I begin to understand where they heading: downtown. Maybe towards one of the bridges.

  Letting them off of the island would be an utter loss. Here, at the lower end of the island, the streets become less of a grid. There are side streets and there are alleyways: places I can corral them, corner them.

  Gunning the engine, I approach from the rear. They are three cars in front of me, and then, as another car turns onto another side street, they are only two cars ahead. I can almost make her out in the front passenger seat, seated beside Emilio. Is she afraid? The idea of it makes my stomach go cold. I don’t want Radiah to be afraid. The need to take the fear away from her, the need to somehow surround her with myself, to absorb whatever she might be feeling now, is something I feel so sharply it’s a physical pain, the edge of a blade turning over and over.

  This is a part of the island I’m very familiar with. I’ve spent plenty of time in the financial district, plenty of time in the buildings around Wall Street. I’m familiar with the docks, with the piers, with the salty air and the small buildings lining the waterfront. A little at a time the traffic thins. There are no restaurants here, no tourist traps, no apartment buildings. Those places are all behind us and ahead the flat horizon of the canal and the here and there towers of shipping containers dot the distance.

  I know my time is now.

  Stepping on the gas, I accelerate hard. I don’t want to hit the car too hard; I don’t want to take the risk of hurting Radiah. But I need to end this. I know full well the longer I let it go on, the greater the chance that he will do something to hurt her.

  With a burst of speed, the front of my car nears the bumper of his car. Another tap on the gas and I bump against it, a hard, controlled corralling of his vehicle with mine. Metal scrapes metal and Emilio’s car veers. Again I accelerate, and this time a little harder. The map in my head widens, rises in scope to include all of the side streets and all of the little alleys. I try to remember the places where the docks are most active and the places where the piers are left less packed.

  I see very little in the way of options. I’m going to have to stop Emilio. Period. And when I do, I can’t take the chance that stopping him might come back on Radiah. Or on me.

  This, I’m sure, is my best chance to stop him. It’s an empty place. His car is right in front of mine—with one more careful bump I can…

  Metal scrapes metal. The cars jostle, rise up as the dock rises away from the street.

  Emilio’s car careens off of the road and swerves onto the pier.

  Braking hard, I throw the car into park and leap out from the driver’s side door. My heart is hammering in my chest. All I can think about is getting to her, reaching her before he does something to hurt her.

  Hurt her.

  Before I can complete the thought, Emilio is out of his own car. I hear the crack of the gun before I even see it in his hand. I dive backwards, the car is my only shield. It is not a good one, but it is something.

  My gun. I don’t have it. It is a split second realization; a split second and then I look up. Emilio is walking forward, holding the gun out in front of him. He will turn the corner of the car. He will shoot me point blank. My only chance is to make my way back around the rear of the car. My only chance is to somehow get around the vehicle unseen, to flank him, to leap out at him, catch him by surprise.

  And then I see her. Radiah is out of the car now; she is running forward. She’s got something in her hand—something that looks heavy. Maybe something like a flashlight. She doesn’t hesitate. Hefting it high in both hands, she slams it down against the back of Emilio’s head.

  In the instant that he wavers, in the instant that blood starts to seep down the side of his face and he starts to turn towards her, I leap up and I run forward.

  Tackling him to the ground, careful not to catch Radiah as we fall, I roll with against the docks. We roll. And we roll.

  The gun clatters aside.

  Now, it is him and it is me.

  The water laps high against the pylons and Emilio grunts, tries to free his hand from where his arm is pinned. He wants to reach for the gun, but I wrench at him, turn him again. We turn, and we turn, and he is strong like I am strong and the edge of the dock looms and the scent of the salt water and the damp wood is strong. The pier creaks, and I am under him, and he is rising, is shaking his arm loose, is cocking back to let down the kind of punch that will snap my head on my neck...with everything I have in me, I grip him, and I heave him off of me, and over. I heave him off of me and over to the side where the pier gives away to the water.

  He drags me as I push him and I hear the splash and for a moment I think I will go in too; then my momentum stops and I am on the edge. I am looking down at the dark, dizzying swirl of the canal.

  He’s thrashing. Without thinking, I reach down for him.

  Without thinking, he grabs for my arm. But then, I see the thinking come back into his eyes. I feel him jerking on me, trying to pull me down with him. Gritting my jaw, I reach out with my other hand. I pull his hand off of my arm; I toss his arm back, away from me.

  Again, he thrashes. The quiet grunts of his breathing are labored. The blood is seeping from his back of his head. I see his eyes roll back. I watch him sink lower.

  The bubbles churn at the surface. Again, I almost reach.

  Almost.

  I hear Radiah behind me, on the dock, and I want to turn to her. But I can’t, not yet.

  I wait for him to rise again. I am sure he will rise again. He is strong. But the blood is the only thing to rise; the blood swirls in the black of the water and I know the hit to his head has weakened him too much to allow him to struggle to the surface.

  For a moment, horrified, I do lower my hand again. My fingertips almost touch the water. If I see him, I might grab him, I might lift him. If I see him, I might see my own face floating there. He is not so different than I am.

  I don’t see him. The bubbles go away too. No one would know there had been a man there only seconds earlier. There is nothing now, where that man had been. I cannot stop from thinking. He had a mother. I cannot stop myself from thinking he’d been a boy. He’d been just like Boris. He’d been just like me. Radiah had even liked him. She’d liked him before he’d played his hand. Before he’d shown his heart.

  Soon, the water swallows even the blood and his grave is sealed over him.

  A grave I made for him.

  Radiah

  From the street, I watch Emilio and Alexei roll across the pier. I still have the heavy flashlight, the only thing I found in my frantic search of the car that I thought might be heavy enough to be a weapon, clutched tight into my hand.

  They roll, and I want to move forward. Everything in me is screaming at me to jump, to run, to do something to help Alexei.

  But I’m frozen. And every time I think I might have a clear shot at Emilio, they roll again and my clear shot is gone. I can’t take the chance of hitting Alexei. I’ve never been in a fight in my life; I’ve
never experienced anything like this, not even remotely near to this.

  I watch as they near the pier; I watch as time and again one of them seizes the upper hand. Physically, I know they are evenly matched. Alexei is taller, but Emilio is just as strong. Internally, I know the kind of men they are. And more than that, I know...I know that this is not the kind of fight that both of them will walk away from. There is too much at stake.

  I can hear the waves lapping against the pylons. I see the blood—Emilio’s blood alone, I hope, I pray. But it could be Alexei’s blood too. I don’t know whether one of those bullets might have struck him. Is he shot? Is he bleeding to death while he’s trying to beat Emilio back from him?