I vowed to personally make Lorenzo pay. He’d played games with me and used the one I thought I loved against me. He preyed on a woman with a good heart and an uncommon innocence, then ruined her life. She’d forever blame herself for her mother’s death because she didn’t tell me about the threat early enough.
When we’d had the extra security measures installed in her apartment, circumstances were much different. But they’d remained in place all this time, and Joe had been monitoring them, as he’d been instructed. Lorenzo anticipated the video surveillance and had a signal jammer in his pocket. But he didn’t figure on the extra voice recording we put in place as a backup. It picked up his every word, and Joe relayed the information to my father, who then relayed it to me.
Only, we all received the information too late to stop them.
I didn’t believe she’d do what he told her. I thought she’d come to me and tell me about his ultimatum so I could take care of it for her. It would’ve been so easy for me to handle the situation. But then, I’d never told her about my skillset before that night.
She had several Blaine Financial employees listed as contacts in her phone. I changed Lorenzo’s number in her phone to Benny’s number after my father told me what had occurred. Then I had Benny text her a picture of her mother I’d found in her photos along with the threat. She fell right into the trap and showed her true colors.
The rhetorical question she asked me before she walked out of my life disturbed me. What would I have done if I were in her shoes and forced to choose who would die? Could I allow my mom to die to save Jillian? Could I let Jillian die to save my mom? If I didn’t possess the knowledge, resources, and skills I had, would I have reacted any differently than she did?
I paced the length of my apartment repeatedly, going over every detail of what she said, what my father said, and what Lorenzo said.
I didn’t expect to miss her the second she was out of sight.
I didn’t expect to feel as if a piece of me were missing.
I didn’t expect to be the pussy-whipped moron who wanted her to come back.
One way or another, I’d get Jillian Hart off my mind.
I’d forget about her and move on with my life.
I would’ve believed that too, if not for the warning in my head and my heart that said otherwise.
Chapter Fourteen
Jillian
Standing beside my mother’s casket was surreal. Though I knew the nightmare I lived was real, everything about her funeral felt like a dream. Extended family and friends showed to say their farewells and tell me what a wonderful woman she was. Then they retreated to their lives and went on living as if my world hadn’t just stopped turning. Nothing in my life would ever be the same again.
The state finally released her body after the investigation into her death. It was ruled as a homicide, but there were no leads on suspects. They wouldn’t find any leads either. It would forever be an open case. After so long, it would become a cold case, and no one would care anymore.
Damon’s men found Margie before it was too late. I was grateful for that, at least. Two deaths on my conscience would be too much. It was bad enough that I lost the man I loved because I’d contemplated killing him…only to find out my mother had already been murdered. Because I was between a rock and a hard place and I didn’t know how to get out, I didn’t speak up in time to change anything.
I was weak.
I’d never be weak again.
Mom’s funeral was over two months ago and was mysteriously paid for by an anonymous mourner. I tried to settle back into a normal routine around Abita Springs. I worked out an arrangement with Morgan and Bartholomew to work at home and only drive into the office when needed. Dealing with the stress of everything I’d been through over those months took a toll on my health and sanity. What was important to me yesterday no longer seemed so important.
I watched the news and combed the internet for weeks looking for information on the Sanfratello family, but nothing indicated Lorenzo was missing or dead.
Damon hadn’t tried to contact me in any way since the night I left his apartment. I also searched the internet for any glimpse of him for the first couple of weeks after I returned home. But if I’d seen him with another woman on his arm, I don’t know what I would’ve done. So I stopped looking and tried to forget him.
Tried being the operative word.
I found it all but impossible.
“Jillian Hart?” the nurse called from the door.
“Yes, I’m here.” I rose and walked through as she held it open.
“What brings you in to see the doctor today?”
I drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to calm my racing heart. I couldn’t believe I was about to say the words.
“My first prenatal visit.”
“Congratulations,” she smiled warmly. We went through the normal paces of checking vitals and answering medical history questions, then she set the paper gown and sheet out for me to change into before the exam.
After the exam, the doctor confirmed I was indeed pregnant and estimated I was around twelve weeks. The stress of losing my mother and Damon had affected my appetite, so I’d thought the nausea was also part of my near-breakdown. Finding out I was pregnant helped save me from falling into the deep chasm of depression. As much as my heart was broken over losing Damon and the way we parted, I couldn’t deny how happy I was to be carrying his baby. Not that he’d ever know. Not that I’d ever tell him. Not that he’d even care at that point.
The nurse filled a bag with a plethora of prenatal supplies and information packets. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning peeking into the bag. I couldn’t wait to get home and dive into everything. I scheduled my appointment for the following month and walked out of the office with the first genuine smile I’d had in too long.
I dug my keys out of my purse as I walked toward my car, and I stopped dead in my tracks when I finally looked up.
“You’re looking well.”
Damon was leaned against my car. His arms were folded over his chest. He was dressed casually, in formfitting faded jeans, a white Henley shirt that stretched tight across his chest, and a black blazer that still gave him a refined air. His blacked-out sunglasses shielded his eyes from me, but I still felt them piercing my soul. He had slight stubble across his jaw, like a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, that was sexy as hell. And he was there…in Abita Springs…in the parking lot of my gynecologist. One thing I learned the hard way about Damon, there were no coincidences.
“Damon. What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet me after all this time?”
“You’re right. That was inappropriate. Let me rephrase it.”
He smiled and my heart dropped. But I was determined.
“Fuck off. And get the fuck off my car.”
“Ooh, I don’t know what to think about this new sassy mouth on you.”
“You don’t have to think anything about it. You kicked me out of your life. I’ve left you alone. I’ve left your name out of anything related to the investigation of my mother’s death. Now you can turn around and go back to New York and do the same for me.”
“Afraid I can’t do that, doll.”
“Why not? You had no trouble doing it three months ago. There’s no reason for you to be here now.”
“No reason, huh?”
“None at all.”
“Maybe I’ll stick around for a while, just in case.”
“Suit yourself. Just stay away from me.”
I pushed him aside—because he let me—so I could open my car door. His next words stopped my movement again.
“I thought we had a special bond, with you trying to kill me in my sleep and all. I’m disappointed you’re not happy to see me.”
“Damon, if I had actually tried to kill you, you’d know it. But I didn’t. I was scared and felt completely alone. You helped push me to that point by having Benny send that text at
the exact moment I was trying to tell you everything. When I turned to you for help, you pushed me away with your tricks. I didn’t want to tell you while you were in the hospital because I was afraid you’d do something stupid and jeopardize yourself. I was trying to tell you, and you knew it. You knew what was happening the very second the text came in.
“You know, I questioned why that name had that specific tone assigned to it. I only used that tone for contacts involved with my mother. But I was so freaked out, I wasn’t thinking straight to dig deeper and figure it out that night. I figured out you changed Lorenzo’s number in my phone to Benny’s, but you fucked up and changed the ringtone too. You made an impossible situation even harder for me. I hope you’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done.”
I slid into my car and drove away, leaving him standing in the parking lot. But I couldn’t resist a quick glance in the rearview mirror. He watched me drive away, his hands on his hips and a determined set to his jaw. I hadn’t seen the last of Damon Marchetti…that was for certain.
Inside my house, I settled in to get some work done and try to get Damon off my mind. But the lure of bag of pregnancy materials was too strong, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I finally got up from the desk and dumped the contents out on my couch. Touching, reading, and looking at every gift, book, and pamphlet only made the excited flutters in my chest worse.
An unexpected knock on my door could only be one person. And he’d have to go away. I wasn’t about to let him in just when I was learning to live without him. Only to have him rip my heart out when he left? No thank you. A second knock was ignored again…then he let himself into my house.
“What the hell, Damon?” I demanded as I jumped up from the couch.
He pushed the door closed behind him and walked across the room to where I stood. His eyes purposely landed on all the maternity paraphernalia strewn out on my sofa then slowly perused my body on their way back up to meet my angry gaze.
“Looks like I have a reason to stick around now.”
More Damon and Jillian are coming soon in Warning, Part Two.
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I want to thank my Lord and Savior for His continued forgiveness of a sinner.
To my husband: All my love.
To my readers: Thank you for taking a chance on an indie author and all your support. I love hearing from everyone, so stop by my page and say hello.
To my assistant: Tabitha Charisse, thank you for all your help and support. I love you, girl!
To the bloggers: None of this would be possible without your help, support, and tireless sharing. I love everyone in this great group of people. I can’t name one without naming everyone because you’ve all been so helpful.
To my editor: Lisa Hollett, with Silently Correcting Your Grammar, thank you for your continued help and support. Even if you hate Damon now.
About the Author
A.D. Justice is happily married to her husband of more than twenty-five years. They have two sons together and enjoy a wide variety of outdoor activities. A.D. has a full-time job by day, with a BS degree in Organizational Management and an MBA in Health Care Administration. Writing gives her the outlet she needs to live in the fantasy world that is a constant in her mind.
Thank you for reading and supporting A.D.’s books. Authors depend on word of mouth and reviews to help others find our books. Please take a moment to leave a review of this work. Every review helps and only takes a few words to capture if you enjoyed it.
Connect with her online at:
Angel’s Wicked & Crazy Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/angelswickedcrazycrew/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/a-d-justice
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/adjbooks
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/adjusticeauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ADJustice1
Website: www.authoradjustice.com
Email: [email protected]
Books by A. D.
Steele Security Series
Wicked Games
Wicked Ties
Wicked Nights
Wicked Intentions
Wicked Shadows
Crazy Series
Crazy Maybe
Crazy Baby
Dominc Powers Series
Her Dom
Her Don’s Lesson
Immortal Obsession Series
Immortal Envy
Standalones
Just One Summer
Intent
F*cking Awkward
F*cking Awkward Holidays
E-Book Design & Format
Ebook conversion by
EBookBuilders
Verified ePUBcheck
The Vault Collection [Volume One] Page 10
