Broken Daddy: A Single Dad & Nanny Romance
Page 15
I drive like a maniac, call the guards screaming that there’s going to be an attack on the house. I call Reva, but she doesn’t answer. I see lights and hear the sirens. They’re pulling me over. The same damn cops who wouldn’t help me are going to keep me from getting home to my baby when she’s under attack.
I pull over, roll down the window, shaking because I’ve got to go, I have to save them.
“Sir, do you realize you were going eighty-five miles per hour in—”
“Here,” I say, shoving my license, my wallet, my phone at him all at once, “take these. I’ll pay the ticket. Follow me home. There’s a crime in progress!”
The cop won’t take what I’m holding out. I throw it at him. My wallet hits him in the face. That’ll be a criminal charge against me, I bet. I don’t care. I reach out the window and shove him back so I can drive without running over him.
I peel out and head for my house. I hear the sirens, see that they’re pursuing me. The gate slows me down, but I get to the house, my police escort close behind. I don’t care that I’ll be arrested. As long as I get home in time, as long as I can stop the Rativans from killing my daughter, they can take me to jail afterward.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Reva
Ridge isn’t gone five minutes before the alarm goes off. I am putting on my shoes, but I drop them. I go for Ridge’s closet, the high shelf, the code. I get my gun out and put a clip in, slam the safe shut so there’s not a loaded arsenal waiting for whoever is coming after us. I run for Lydia’s room.
“Wake up, baby, come with me,” I say. I shake her, try to get her to get up quietly and come along. We don’t have time to waste.
She grunts, turns over. I put the safety on and stuff the gun down the back of my jeans, pick her up. She’s dead weight, whimpering and trying to reach for the bed. I swat her sharply on the butt. I’ve never spanked a child, but this is the time, I think.
“Lydia. Wake up and come with me. Now,” I bark at her.
Her eyes fly open. She starts to cry, buries her face in my shoulder. I tell her I’m sorry, that we have to hurry. I’m looking around, trying to decide where to go to hide her. They’re coming for her, that much I know. They must have done something at Carter Security just to get Ridge to leave, so we’d be alone when they came for her. I won’t let them take her. I won’t let them hurt her. Not as long as there’s breath in my body. Which may not be for long.
It’s dark and still, my heart thudding, the little girl in my arms crying. It’s like a horror movie, but it’s too real. I try to make myself think, but I can’t. I’m nothing but adrenaline and fear now.
I hear glass shatter, a breaking window. A shrill alarm blares, the lights flash disorienting me. Panicked, I have to get Lydia someplace safe. Is there someplace safe? I wish there was a safe room, is what I think. I don’t know where to go, where the best place is. I take her to my room, lock the door. It’s a tiny doorknob lock that won’t slow anyone down. I go through to my bathroom and lock us in there. I put her down on the floor and call the guards. There’s no answer. I use the panic app. I see a missed call from Ridge. Please be coming, Ridge, I think.
I hear running footsteps and hope it’s the guards. Lydia is awake now and crying. I grab a towel from the cabinet to use as a blanket and cover her up.
“Hush,” I say, “be quiet. It’s okay. Daddy’s coming. I’m here. But you have to stay quiet. We don’t want them to know where we are.”
She whimpers, clings to my arm. I take the gun out of my waistband and flip off the safety.
“Get in the shower,” I tell her, “stay down. You can’t grab me when I have this out. It’s okay,” I say, my voice high and shaky. I kiss her head.
I hear gunfire, loud cracks and things breaking. I try to call Ridge again and get nothing. I text him. “They’re in the house I’m so scared we love you.” He might as well know I love him since I’m probably about to die. I set my phone down and bite my lip to keep from screaming. It’s like being in the middle of a storm, a disaster, only it’s worse because it’s coming for us, for her.
There are sirens, more gunshots, and always the high wail of the alarm. I’m crying. I can’t help it. I’m scared. I won’t let them take Lydia. They’ll have to kill me first. Which they will. I don’t think it will even slow them down. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. My vision has gone bright. I’m holding the gun with shaking hands, pointing it at the white door I know won’t keep anyone out.
This is it. This is all.
I keep whispering to Lydia that it’s going to be okay. All I can do is put myself between the invaders and Lydia, but Lydia keeps crawling out of the shower and holding on to me. She’s terrified and doesn’t understand what’s going on. I don’t know what to do. My instincts tell me to hold her and comfort her, but I can’t fire a gun with a kid in my lap. I lower the gun put my arm around her, hugging her against my side. She’s crying so hard. I hold her tighter. My heart is pounding so hard I am not sure I can even hear the alarm any more.
“Honey, you have to let go,” I tell her, “Get back in the shower, hide.”
She shakes her head. I’m the only safe thing she knows right now. I can’t blame her, but I have to protect her. I hope I can get two shots off before they kill me. I hope if she’s behind the shower curtain she won’t see them kill me. I don’t want her to have to remember that.
“I love you,” I tell her, “please get in the shower.”
She can’t let go of me. I plead with her, both of us crying. I hear a crash. Our door, our last defense is broken open. I scream, cover Lydia with my body. I hold her tight.
“It’s me,” Ridge says. I know his voice even in my terror. Lydia is screaming too. I release the clip from the gun, shove it behind the toilet because the last thing we need is my damn gun going off.
I try to scramble to my feet with Lydia in my arms but my legs won’t hold me. Ridge crouches down to us, takes us in his arms. I’m crying and he’s holding us both. He kisses Lydia’s head, asks her if she’s okay, kisses me on the mouth. I cling to him, kissing him, feeling alive and so relieved.
The cops storm in, all of us in the tiny bathroom.
“Ridge Carter, you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer and leaving the scene of a traffic stop,” an officer says, hauling him away from us and putting him in handcuffs. I can’t believe it. They’re arresting him, taking him away after he saved us.
“Daddy, no!” Lydia wails as I hold her and watch them take him away.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ridge
Sleeping in a holding cell is not comfortable. The cot is too small. This place smells terrible. I called my lawyer early this morning when they brought me in. I don’t know what the hell is taking him so long to arrange bail. I gave my statement, and this is the thanks I get.
There were four armed men at my house. Charlie, Lydia’s guard, was by the door shot in both legs but alive. The other two guards are dead. I jumped one of the men, made him tell me who sent him. I knocked him out and moved on, taking out a second assassin before the cops subdued the other two. The first one, the one I knocked out, confirmed it was Rativan’s organization, that they had orders to get my daughter and kill her, to kill anyone who got in their way. That I was to be unharmed so I was coherent when they gave me Lydia’s body. That’s what Rativan wanted. For my daughter to die, for me to be handed her lifeless body in her Disney Princess nightgown.
I’ve vomited twice just thinking about that. I used the bucket that the city’s finest so graciously provided in my cell. My daughter is alive and safe. That’s all that matters. The henchmen will talk, will lead us to the remainder of Rativan’s network so the syndicate can be dismantled. So the threat will be removed. Murder for hire of a kid is not usually well received in the justice system so I don’t expect these men to give us more trouble. I’d like to be out of this cage and see my kid, though.
When they come get me, I’m ready to let my attorney
have it. It’s been hours. But Davis Hammond isn’t waiting for me. Reva and Lydia are.
“Don’t yell at me for bringing her down here. I had to bail you out. There goes our entertainment budget for the month,” she teases.
I’m so happy to see her. I take her in my arms right there in the stupidest, least romantic place ever, and I kiss her. Lydia laughs. The fact that my child can still laugh or be happy after last night makes me speechless with gratitude. I could have lost her, could have lost them both.
We go home. I have a shower and find that they’ve ordered pizza for lunch. We don’t say much at the table, but it’s obvious we’re all happy to be alive and together. Mrs. Whitman is bustling around and muttering and baking things. We settle in on the couch to watch Trolls, but all three of us fall asleep. When I wake up, I find a note from Reva that they’ve gone shopping.
I check my email, follow up with my lawyer, and when they get home, I see bags of craft kits.
“We had to get the soap making set,” Reva laughs, “Because you promised.”
“That was for when you’d be under restrictions because of the threat. The threat is basically resolved. You can take her outside to skin her knees again,” I say.
“Looks like we’re all making soap tonight.”
“I’m making purple!” Lydia declares, ripping open the box.
We spend the rest of the day making colorful soaps that my daughter refuses to let anyone use to wash their hands because it would mess up her creation. I promise to keep my green and orange bar of glycerin soap on the counter and never use it. I hear Reva laugh and Lydia join it. It’s the best sound there is. I feel released, like the cloud above us has dispersed. When Lydia’s asleep, I take Reva’s hand.
“Come to bed. I think I promised you I’d go all night. We were interrupted.”
“You should make that up to me,” she says.
I take her to my bed. Before we begin, I gather her in my arms and hold her. I could have lost everything, is what I’m thinking.
“I’m not letting you go,” I say, “You mesmerize me.”
“You better not let me go,” she says, kissing me.
Reva rolls over onto her back and stretches, “This bed is huge,” she says. Her hand goes under my pillow.
“What is this?”
“Uh,” I stammer uselessly.
“Are these mine?” she holds up the lace panties.
“They got mixed up with my laundry,” I say.
“These have been missing for weeks. Have you had them all this time?”
“Yes.”
“What for? Are you obsessed with me?” she’s laughing so hard her eyes are streaming.
“I’m a stalker. I kept them,” I say with a shrug.
“And under your pillow too. Were you fantasizing about me?” she teases.
“Every day,” I tell her honestly.
I crawl toward her on the bed, grab her in my arms and kiss her almost savagely. She throws her arms around my neck in gleeful surrender. I slide my tongue in her mouth as she pulls off her clothes. Her skin is hot and smooth. She helps me get my clothes off. We’re naked together in my bed, skin on skin. I hold her for a minute, just memorizing every curve of her pressed against me. She kisses me, complains that I’m crushing her ribs. I lever off her so I can look at her, worship that body. The body I dreamed of for ages. The body that shielded my daughter from gunmen and the body she gave me on the couch weeks ago when she laid beneath me quivering with pleasure. I feel gratitude course through me as I lean in to kiss her collarbone.
Reva’s hands are in my hair, and my hands are all over her. There’s not an inch of her I won’t kiss before this night is through. I kiss her palms, her fingers, her wrists. My mouth slides down the valley between her breasts, my hands stroking and plucking at her nipples as she writhes in pleasure. She winds her long legs around me, capturing me. I love the way she runs her hands along my back and through my hair. I can tell by her movements, her sounds that she loves what I’m doing to her. She’s vocal, active, participating in every second of our tryst. I set her in my lap so she can have a turn. She kisses my neck, my ears, my chin. She’s having fun. Reva kisses my face, making her way to my mouth last. When she finally parts my lips with hers, I’m ready to explode. Her tongue in my mouth is so sweet, so perfect. The way she touches me arouses me more than I ever thought possible. As she’s exploring my shoulders and chest, she raises up. I don’t expect it. I thought we were taking it slow. But she reaches for my throbbing cock and puts me inside her. All at once she slides down the length of me, tight and wet, and I groan out loud. She takes the lead, moving on her knees and pumping up and down on me. I have her breasts in my face to touch and lick. Before long, I’m coming inside her, right where I want to be. I flip her on her back and finger her until she shatters in a screaming climax on my bed, spread out naked and satisfied before me. I suck her nipple as she shivers with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She launches herself into my arms and hugs me.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You’re welcome,” I answer, although it seems strange for her to thank me.
“You finally let me in. Let me reach you. I waited so long for you to look at me like this, like I’m not your enemy.”
“You were never my enemy,” I say, kissing her, “And you’re not going anywhere. You’re moving in.”
“I already live here, Ridge,” she informs me.
“No, I mean in here. Into this bedroom. You’re too far away otherwise.”
“What will we tell Lydia?”
“That her daddy has a girlfriend. That you’ll still take care of her after school unless you decide to take a job at the Academy.”
“How did you know about that? That they offered me an interview?” she demands.
“I work in security, Reva. Just assume I know things,” I tell her smugly.
“So I can’t keep any secrets from you?”
“No. None,” I say.
“Fine, then come here. There’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but I’ve kept it secret,” she says. Then she whispers to me about her fantasy.
In minutes, we’re acting out one of Reva’s fantasies. A fantasy she had about me. When we’re sweaty and spent, I kiss her forehead and think I’m the luckiest man alive.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Reva
I can’t believe Ridge let us have Lydia’s birthday party at the trampoline park. But the kids had a blast, and no one broke their arms or legs or noses. I tease him about the overprotectiveness now and then. Sometimes he even laughs about it. Now that the men who targeted Lydia are locked up, he’s a lot more relaxed.
I think it helps that we’re so happy. So much of the conflict between us was just a symptom of trying to resist the chemistry. Our attraction was so consuming that at times it brought out the worst in us both.
After Lydia’s party, while she’s towing a fistful of bright, Mylar unicorn balloons, Ridge insists we take a walk. We stroll a few blocks—the tree-lined, brick sidewalk sort in the pretty neighborhood—and come to a large storefront with a Sold sign in the window.
“If this is where we’re eating dinner, it looks like it’s not open,” I joke.
“I’m still full of cupcakes,” Lydia crows. I laugh.
Ridge takes keys from his pocket and hands them to me, “Would you do the honors?”
“What?”
“These unlock the door. I’m sure you’re familiar with keys.”
“Well, I’m used to having a retinal scan and a twenty-digit code,” I say sarcastically to cover my confusion.
I unlock the old-fashioned wooden door and walk inside. It’s a huge open space with wood floors and high windows. In the back, there is a hallway with some offices and at the end of the hall is a kitchen.
“Why are we here?”
“I thought you’d like to check out the future location of Benny’s Place,” he says, “I bought the building.”
“What?”
I’m dumbfounded. My boyfriend bought a building for my learning center. Sure, I’ve been taking online courses about nonprofit administration and done some research, but I’m nowhere near the point of having the funding or staff to make this work.
“That’s so sweet, but maybe you could rent it out to someone for a while, until I get my business plan done and court some investors.”
Even though I cleared the credit card debt several months ago, it’ll be years before a bank will give me a business loan for something this huge, I think.
“You have investors. Me.”
“Ridge, you can’t do this. It’s so wonderful of you, but a facility like this, like what I had planned, would cost a fortune to set up. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“I have a couple of people for you to meet,” he says.
Lydia is jumping up and down. I can tell she’s in on the surprise. Ridge sends a text and the back doors open. People stream inside. First is a man Ridge introduces as the contractor who’s going to adapt the structure to accommodate disabled clients. Then come two women, one he’s hired away from a well-known nonprofit that caters to childhood diabetes patients and another who is an expert fundraiser.
“You’ve got your own think tank here, Reva. They can teach you what you need to know and help bring your vision to life. And these people, I think you already know.”
He grins his most devastatingly gorgeous grin and gestures to the three people hanging back in the doorway. I run and hug them.
“Mom, Dad, you knew about this?”
“For weeks,” my dad says proudly, “Benny’s in on it too.”
“I Facetimed with Ridge a lot,” he says, beaming, “I told him it has to be a place with a kitchen so I can teach how to make sandwiches. Plus we can make pizza rolls here.”