See No Evil: Part Two

by Chantal Fernando

  Does he even like kids?

  Oh fuck, what if he doesn’t?

  A bit late now, he’s just going to have to learn how to like them. Love them, rather.

  Before I tell him though, I ask him, “Why did Spencer tell her a different story?”

  He winces, and mutters, “I don’t know, it’s not like we usually tell the truth about our lives. I guess he’s chosen to keep her in the dark.”

  “That’s putting me in an awkward position,” I say, scowling. “I tell her everything.”

  “Everything?” he asks, brows going up.

  “Mostly,” I say, shrugging. “I mean she doesn’t know about those freckles on your back I like to trace with my tongue, but she does know that I think you’re amazing in bed.”

  He exhales, and shakes his head. “Do you tell her everything we do in bed?”

  Yes, yes I do, and to get out of this, I decide now is the perfect moment to tell him about the baby.

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out with no preamble, making him freeze in his tracks.

  “What?” he says, blinking slowly like he’s in a daze.

  “I’m pregnant,” I say, puffing out a breath. “With your baby,” I add.

  He sits down on the bed, like his feet suddenly can’t keep him up, and stares at the wall. “But you’re on the pill.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “I must have missed one, or I don’t know. Maybe when I got sick. I was as surprised as you are, Sylar.”

  He comes over to me, lifts up my T-shirt, and lays his hands on my stomach. “I’m going to be a father?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “Do you like kids?”

  “I’ve never really been around them before,” he admits, staring at my stomach like he can see the baby inside. “I don’t know if I’ll be a good dad, Brielle. What if I’m not?”

  He places a soft, lingering kiss on my stomach before he continues, and in this moment I know that no matter what, he will be a good dad. He just found out about the baby, and he's already gentle and caring. I watch as he rests his ear against my stomach.

  “I hope he or she looks like you,” he says, giving me another kiss. “Exactly like you.”

  He sits up and studies me, sadness in those beautiful eyes. “You were pregnant, and I left you to deal with everything alone. How can you stand to even look at me, Brielle?”

  “I was angry,” I admit. “And hurt. I still am, to be honest. I don’t like the way you handled the situation at all, and I know you’re not a bad person, Sylar, but when you left, I felt like shit. If you had to go away, that’s fine, but you at least tell me. You just abandoned me. If you hadn’t come back here, I don’t know if I would have told you about the baby, and that’s me being honest.”

  His face etched with pain, he swallows hard, his throat working. “I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for anything.” He lies down and pulls me into his arms, then whispers, “I thought you’d be safer. Better off. I don’t deserve you, Brielle, and now you’re giving me something else I never thought I’d have in my life. I don’t deserve any of this.”

  “Yes, you do,” I say, wondering why he thinks this. “You do. Don’t think that way. Before you left, you made me happier than I’ve ever been, Sylar.”

  I move to straddle him, then kiss his lips. “Are you going to be leaving again?”

  “Not without you, no,” he replies quickly.

  “Good answer,” I say, then slam my lips down on his. His hands run down my back then land on my ass, squeezing the globes gently, then more firmly. I kiss him until I’m out of breath, then move to kiss him down his neck. I pull back and say, “Remove it,” about his T-shirt, so he sits up and does as I say, throwing the soft white cotton on the floor then lying back down, blue eyes filled with heat. I remove my top and then my bra, giving him something to look at, before returning my lips to his smooth skin, kissing down his chest, then down his ripped abs.

  How I’ve missed these.

  Continuing on my mission to his cock, I stop as my lips touch the material of his jeans, then try to remove them. I move off him, to the side. Searching for a zip, I realize they don’t have one; they have three buttons instead. I clumsily try to undo the first one but fail, making Sylar laugh and groan simultaneously.

  “Why don’t you have a zipper like normal jeans do?” I groan, still trying to undo button number one with my chubby fingers. These buttons are standing in the way of me and what I want—my man’s cock—and I’m not happy about it.

  He waits patiently until he can’t take it anymore, and then he undoes them for me. I sigh in relief, help him pull them down, realize he’s going commando, then take his cock into my mouth with them still around his legs. I’m careful not to put my weight on his lower body or touch his leg in case I hurt him. He moans my name and tangles his hands in my hair, encouraging me as I take him as deep as I can. He makes the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, a deep moan, as I lick the head, then deep throat him.

  “Take your pants off, Brielle,” he demands, voice husky. “I want to play with you. I’ve missed that pretty pussy so damn much.”

  I do as I’m told, then lean in front of him again, fully bare this time. I take him back into my mouth while his fingers start to stroke me, sliding inside of me then playing with my clit.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, then lick down and back up his cock.

  His fingers feel so amazing, and I know it’s only going to get better from here. I can’t wait to have him inside me again. It’s been so long, and I’ve missed him in every way possible. Unable to take it anymore, I straddle him and take his cock in my hand, positioning it then sliding down onto it slowly. I look him in the eye, and he does the same. He then looks down to where the two of us are now joined, then back up at me. When he’s fully inside me, I lift my hips up and down, his hands urging me on. He starts to take control, thrusting upwards, while I lean my body forward, my lips on his, my breasts pressed into his chest. Normally I’d want him to take over right about now, but with his leg, I want to do all the work. To mix things up a little, I get off him, turn around, and ride him reverse cowgirl. I’ve never tried this position before, but I read it in a romance novel recently and wanted to see if I liked it. Sylar squeezes my ass and slaps it once. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and grind down on him, my wetness making it easy. Wanting to see him, I climb off again, but this time take him back into my mouth for a minute or so before returning to riding him, facing him. I flash him a cheeky grin, which makes his lip twitch.

  “I’m going to come,” I warn him, bracing myself for the explosion of pleasure. “Fuck.”

  I don’t break eye contact as the orgasm takes over me, intense and powerful. I cry out in pleasure, taking deep breaths as wave after wave hits me. Just as it’s over, Sylar rolls me over, him still inside of me, and starts thrusting.

  “I’m meant to be doing all the work,” I pant.

  “You did well,” he smirks. “But now it’s my turn, babe. My leg isn’t hurting. All I can feel is you, and you feel perfect.”

  My reply is cut off by his mouth, and soon after, he finishes inside me and rests his forehead against mine. He doesn’t put his weight on me.

  “I don’t want to squash the baby,” he murmurs, kissing me and then kneeling beside me. He kisses below my belly button, then pulls me onto his chest.

  “You won’t. You can come to the next appointment and ask the Doctor anything you want to know.”

  “I’d love that. I love you,” he says, kissing my forehead.

  “I love you, too, Sylar.”

  One Month Later

  Sylar

  With Brielle asleep on the couch, I start cooking dinner, wanting her to have something to eat when she wakes. She works a lot, and although I’ve tried to get her to stop, she won’t. So I’ve started going to her work every day, helping her and making sure she doesn’t try and do too much. I’ve told her she has another employee, but this ones free, so she should be happy.

&nb
sp; I don’t think she is, but that’s okay too.

  I’ll do what I need to do to look after her and our baby. I can’t help but think that I was shot for a reason. If I wasn’t, I might not have come back. I don’t know, and that scares me. It would have been the second-biggest mistake of my life, after leaving in the first place. I don’t know how I could have done something so stupid. If Brielle hadn’t forgiven me…

  I’m a lucky man. I know I don’t deserve it, I do, but she wants me and I want to make her happy. Her and the little one. I don’t know anything about being a father, but I do know that no other child will ever be loved and protected more than ours will. No other woman will be, either.

  Spencer comes into the kitchen, a big smile on his face.

  “Where’s Sebastian?” I ask.

  He never left. He’s been saying he’s going to leave “any day now” but he’s still here. The local hospital is looking for new doctors, and he’s said he’s going to consider taking the position. We are all thrilled.

  “He’s walking Snoop,” Spencer replies, referring to Brielle’s chubby little pug, and hands me a bag. “I bought the baby some stuff.”

  I’ve never seen any man happier to be an uncle than Spencer. I can tell he’s happy for me. And with Sebastian back home, our family is all but complete. Our unit, or our army, as Brielle calls it.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, smiling. “Starting the presents pretty early, brother.”

  “My first niece or nephew,” he says, shrugging. “This kid is never going to want for anything.”

  I clap him on the back. “I know.” I look into the bag and pull out a tiny pair of white unisex sneakers. “Brielle is going to love these.”

  “I know,” he says, taking out the other item. It’s a small black box. I open it, chuckling when I see the thick gold chain. Brielle walks into the kitchen sleepily, peeping over the chain.

  “What’s that?”

  “The first of many gifts,” Spencer says, studying my woman. “I also shotgun buying the first car.”

  Brielle picks up the chain in her delicate fingers. “The baby is going to have to do weights just to carry this! It’s a baby, not a pimp, Spencer.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that.

  Laugh.

  I never laughed much before Brielle.

  I found things amusing, enjoyed being around Spencer.

  But I didn’t laugh much.

  And now….

  A knock at the door pulls us from our discussion. Spencer gets there first. Assuming it’s Christina, or that Sebastian forgot his key, I give Brielle a hug. “Are you hungry?”

  She nods. “Starving.”

  “Sylar!” Spencer calls out. I lift my head and look toward the hall.

  “Yeah?”

  “Come here,” he says, and something in his tone has me rushing to him.

  I come to a standstill when I see none other than Jack standing there. The man I was meant to hand over to my uncle but couldn’t. He may be a criminal, but he’s a friend, and I know he’d never do anything to harm me or mine.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him, brow furrowing. “Aren’t you meant to be in hiding?”

  “I wouldn’t come unless it’s an emergency,” he says, looking from side to side. “Something happened.”

  “Something bad?” Spencer asks, eyes going wide. “What the fuck has happened now?”

  “Your uncle came after me,” he says, cringing.

  Shit. I should have known he wouldn’t leave it alone. I handed to him another man, one with a higher price on him, and I thought that would keep him satisfied to stay away from Jack, but apparently it just satisfied our deal instead.

  “And?” I prompt.

  “And I accidentally killed him,” Jack says, shifting on his feet. “And he’s in the car. And I need help to bury him.”

  “Jesus, fuck!” Spencer says, eyes darting to me. “What happened exactly, Jack? And why the fuck did you bring him here in the first place?”

  I have to wonder the same thing. I don’t really feel anything at the news of my uncle passing. A tinge of sadness and regret, but the world is a better place without him. There’s no point trying to deny that. And now Brielle and the baby are safer. He can never come and drag us into his shit again, or threaten my family.

  “You killed their uncle?” I hear asked in a horrified tone.

  Shit.

  I turn to see Brielle standing behind me, eyes wide as saucers as she tries to comprehend the situation. I never wanted her to know about what we have done, and now she knows there’s a killer in the house. What she doesn’t know is that she goes to bed every night with one too.

  She looks at me, shaking her head in confusion. Her hands cover her stomach, and I wonder if it’s because she wants to protect the baby from us. From me. The thought is like a knife to my chest.

  “What the hell is going on, Sylar?”

  Yeah, I have nothing.

  Chapter Seven

  Brielle

  “You killed their uncle?” I ask, hoping that I heard wrong.

  Killed?

  Why is he throwing around a word such as that so casually, no emotion on his face? Who is this man, and how does Sylar know him? Why is Spencer asking why he brought their dead uncle here when surely there are other questions he should be asking? Better yet, he should be saving his words for when he calls the police to report this. Why isn’t he reporting this? Maybe they’re all in shock, and I should call the cops.

  Why is no one reacting?

  I lift my hand and find it shaking.

  Maybe I’m the one in shock.

  I look at Sylar; his eyes are already locked on me, concern flashing in the blue depths. Concern for me? Where is the concern for his uncle? I shake my head in confusion, wondering why he’s simply watching me instead of reacting. I absently cover my stomach with my hand.

  “What the hell is going on, Sylar?” I ask, looking back at the stranger standing in their home.

  “It’s okay, Brielle,” he says in that calm voice of his. The one I usually love hearing, but this time it just pisses me off. He shouldn’t be calm. He shouldn’t be able to control his emotions. Why don’t I see anything playing on his face? Is he that emotionless, or does he have his facial expressions under control that well?

  Either way, I am not okay with it.

  “How is it okay?” I ask, shaking my head and turning my attention to the stranger. “And who are you?”

  “This is Jack,” Sylar says, stepping to me and cupping my face in his hands, turning my head away from Jack and to him. “He’s a childhood friend of mine.”

  His childhood friend killed his uncle?

  Just what have I gotten myself into here? And why are they all staring at me like I’m the crazy one? I need Christina, stat. I need her to react how everyone else in this room should be reacting to this news.

  “Take her upstairs, Sylar. I’ll handle this,” Spencer says, leading Jack outside.

  “How exactly is he going to handle this?” I ask, brow furrowing. “Why aren’t you upset, Sylar? You need to call the police.”

  “No,” he says instantly, disregarding my advice. “There're some things I need to explain to you, Brielle, but I want you to try and relax a little bit. I read that the baby feels everything you do, and I don’t want him or her to feel you panicking.”

  I open my mouth and close it, tightening my lips. I don’t know how he expects me to calm myself in a situation like this, but I take a few deep breaths anyway, my eyes fluttering shut. When they open, I look into his eyes and lift my chin. “Tell me.”

  He rubs the back of his neck, glances up at me, then says, “Come on, let’s sit down.”

  He leads me to the couch with a hand on the small of my back, and I sit. He joins me, shifting on his seat. He looks a little… worried?

  “My uncle is… was,” he corrects, “not a good man.”

  I blink slowly a few times. “So that makes it okay tha
t he’s dead?”

  “No,” he says, licking his lips. “My uncle was a bounty hunter, Brielle. He’s the one who trained me, raised us when my parents died and….” He trails off, then looks down at his hands. “The reason I had to leave you and go and get Sebastian is because my uncle was threatening to harm him if I didn’t. It’s complicated, and I know you won’t understand, but I don’t think anyone will really be upset over his death.”

  I see something flash on his face.

  Pain, but then relief.

  What did his uncle do to him growing up, I wonder, if he raised them, but wasn’t a good man, one not good enough to even deserve their grief when he was killed?

  “You don’t care that your friend killed him?” I ask, wondering where this Jack fits into this all.

  “My uncle was going after Jack. It was only a matter of time before one of them took the other out,” he says casually, as if we were discussing the weather. I wrap my arms around myself. He’s right. I don’t understand. I don’t want him or Spencer going to jail over something they didn’t do. Are they really going to help this guy get rid of a body? At the end of the day, it’s still their blood; they can’t just dump him somewhere. I tell him as much.

  “I will handle that, Brielle,” he says, looking down at his hands. “I wish you hadn’t walked out and heard all of this.”

  “It’s not exactly how I thought my day would go,” I admit, cringing.

  I’ve been so naïve when it comes to Sylar, mainly because I just wanted him so badly. I see what I want to see, and forget the rest, but this time I can’t. This changes everything. I don’t want my baby to be raised in a home where random people drop by with bodies. Fucking hell, I can’t believe I have to even think such a thing.

  “What’s running through your head, Brielle?” he asks softly, reaching to take my hand in his. He looks worried, and rightly so, and seems as if he’s bracing for my reaction. “Do you want me to take you home? Or to Christina’s? I’ll tell Jack he can’t stay here and has to leave, so then you can—”

  “What? Pretend that none of this happened?” I ask, scowling.

  I have a question that I want to ask him, but I’m too scared to. I’ve always known Sylar has some dark in him, but he only ever showed me light. I’ve never been scared of him, and I didn’t think that he’d hurt me. But the way he’s acting, so calm and collected, it has me wondering… is death a common thing in his life?