She flashes before my eyes in slow motion.
Heather.
Heather giggling as a little girl with her head thrown back, her long pale blonde hair behind her swinging in the wind that hot summer day in the park.
Heather.
Heather in the library, full of sass and innocence, asking if a seat was taken as the sun filtered through the windows creating a halo of sun shining through the same color as her blonde hair I now remember from the first time I saw her.
Heather.
Heather tough as nails, in the parking lot of a rundown hole in the wall bar, taking on three men her size without missing a beat.
Heather.
Heather stepping under the wisteria canopy, dressed in the wrong dress, yet still the single most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.
Heather.
Heather humming a lullaby as she nursed Winter Ivy the night I showed up with blood staining my rumpled white dress shirt then the sound of the fire poker as it thudded against the base of her skull.
Heather.
Heather crying out in ecstasy. Heather crying out in pain. Heather screaming from rage. Heather pleading to be touched. Heather softly chuckling. Heather laughing so hard she throws her head back.
Heather trembling from the agony of loss.
Heather writhing beneath me as she brings me to my knees by fucking like her life depends on it, yet kissing me as though we were making sweet and sacred love.
Heather.
It’s always been Heather.
And it always will be.
Without looking away from my dark angel, I strike a match and toss it between Dolores’s feet standing on the stool and she ignites.
Heather’s hand quickly moves, slashing the tendons on the back of Sebastian’s knees sending him crashing to the floor.
Without breaking eye contact she leans over Sebastian’s back from behind and pierces the skin beneath his left ear with the knife in her right hand.
I nod, signaling it’s time.
Eyes still on mine, the dark angel before me drags the blade eleven inches across the evil bastard’s neck and growls into his ear, “Mace tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. Burn in hell, motherfucker.”
After his last gasp for breathe he slumps to the bloody floor and Heather drops the knife beside him before stepping away and allowing the shock of what she’s done to finally register.
Instantly, I have her scooped up and cradled against my chest. As I rock her back and forth we both quietly watch as the stool under our last victim’s feet crumbles and the chain around her neck catches her weight, snapping it clean in two.
Heather hides her face in the crook of my neck and quietly whispers around her sobs, “Roman, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Her thin bloody arms circle my neck. “Promise me we’ll never stop looking for her. Promise me you’ll fight to find our baby girl. No matter what. Promise me, Rome.”
“I promise, mouse.”
Epilogue
Roman William Payne the second was born on July sixth at 10:32 am. He weighed nine pounds and two ounces and looked exactly like his daddy…hair the color of a raven’s wing, eyes as crystal blue as the sky in mid-spring.
He’s absolutely beautiful.
I meticulously count his fingers and toes before twirling the inch and a half long black hair at the nape of his neck, staring down at my son in utter amazement as he nurses.
His soft little sigh of contentment between each swallow makes me smile.
The sound of a knock on my hospital door pulls my attention from my son and immediately the dozens upon dozens of black and pale white roses that cloud my vision almost overwhelm me. The entire room is filled with them.
I shouldn’t be surprised, I’ve known for a long time Roman does everything in excess.
“Come in.”
The door opens, and speak of the devil, Roman walks in with yet another several dozen roses.
“Hey, you.” He whispers after setting the rose vases on what little counter space is left available and leans over to kiss his son before settling his full lips against mine, kissing me as he whispers between each spoken word. “How.” Kiss. “Is.” Kiss. “My.” Kiss. “Little.” Kiss. “Warrior of dark, unrelenting love.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss. “Morning?” Kiss.
I smile around his kiss. “Tired. Homesick. Sad Ivy isn’t here to meet her baby brother. And ready to go home.”
Rome’s sad eyes meet mine, “I promise, mouse. I will find her. I will find her and bring her home. Look at me.”
Tears cascade down my cheeks as my eyes look up at him, praying our family will be whole and happy again soon.
“Heather, I’ve never made a promise I didn’t keep and I don’t intend on starting now. Trust me when I say, at any cost, I will bring our baby girl home.”
I nod.
“I love you, Heather.”
“I know. I love you too, Rome.”
I wish our story ended perfectly with the happily ever after every girl grows up searching for, but real life doesn’t always work out the way we hope.
Nothing about real life is ever fair.
Even when you feel contentment and peace, just beyond the shadows, the pain and agony of real life quietly wait to obliterate your world. And somewhere in the silent stillness when you stumble across one of her stray missing socks or strands of her dark hair in a brush, it all comes crashing back to chip away at whatever minute, modicum of peace you hold onto for dear life.
Someone once told me that when everything is said and done, when it’s all finished, I’ll discover nothing was ever random.
It’s those words alone keeping my head barely above the water.
It’s those words alone keeping me strong enough to stay alive…
The End
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy) Page 18
