by Lexy Timms
“Whoever he was, he stole from my family. And you meant a great deal to him. That debt, Mrs. McBride, has never been recovered.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said breathlessly.
But I did know. I knew exactly what this man was talking about.
“My cousin wouldn’t be very happy to know of your ignorance. You know, if he was alive.”
“Your cousin?”
“You play dumb very well, but it doesn’t get you out from underneath the bus. That debt falls on your shoulders now, Mrs. McBride. I guess you should be careful with who you play ball with.”
I panned my watery gaze up to his hazel eyes as my mind flashed back to that night when I’d cowered around a corner and listened to those men beat John up and shoot him up with heroin. I’d crouched down in the darkness and listened to him gurgling on his own vomit. I remembered the night they dragged me from my bed and held me by my neck. I could remember how dirty and dingy the man smelled, but I also remembered those angry hazel eyes that looked me right in my face right before John had ripped them from me.
That was why these man’s eyes looked so familiar. He was related to the men who had tried to get me to pay for their lost drugs.
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
“Oh, yes,” the man said. “You owe a debt, and I’ve come to collect.”
“I’m calling the police,” I said. “You’ll never get away with this.”
“The police don’t care. Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time around?”
“They’ll care now that you’re here threatening a pregnant woman,” I said.
“They didn’t care all those years ago, and they won’t care now. I know you have a lot of money, Hailey. Your face is everywhere. How do you think it was so easy for me to track you down? I’ve read the articles. I’ve heard of your little tour. I found out about this beautiful establishment. All the way from Los Angeles. I bet anyone could track you down like this. Get whatever they needed from you.”
I was frozen in my spot as the man pushed off the counter. I watched as he walked back over toward John’s paintings and held his hand out. His dirty, grungy hand that was going to taint John’s hard work. It was the last two pieces I had that belonged to him. The only two pieces that hung in this gallery that had been done by him. The rest were sold the night of his showcase, minus the one I had given to Bryan that awful night.
“Don’t you dare touch that,” I said.
I had no idea where I got my voice from, but it seemed to unlock my body. I stood from the chair and reached underneath the table and grabbed my taser. It was something I had purchased when the gallery really took off. Bryan had convinced me to get something to defend myself since I had refused to hire on any sort of help. I wasn’t comfortable with guns nor did I have the power in my body to swing a baseball bat with any accuracy, so he’d talked me into getting a personal taser.
I held it out toward the man, and it prompted him to chuckle.
“I was surprised when I saw your picture on the news, though. Newspapers are one thing, but the news? That’s big-time stuff. Your ex-boyfriend would be proud.”
“We never dated,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You were something. A man never tries to save a woman without wanting something in return.”
“Guess you didn’t know John, then,” I said.
“Listen, I’m not here to torment you.”
“Then you’ve already failed at your job.”
“My cousin died because of your ex-boyfriend’s actions,” he said.
“We. Weren’t. Dating.”
“The point is,” he said as he turned his snarl toward me, “you owe me. All of it. Every single dime I lost because that damn fool intervened. Those drugs were lost in your art studio, so you’re the one who owes the debt. My family will get what we’re owed. My cousin lost his life because of that idiotic man.”
He pointed his finger at the painting as another tear ricocheted down my face.
“Recouping lost money is a serious sport in my world. And when someone can’t do it, lives are lost. The one hundred thousand dollars is your responsibility, and I’m not leaving town until I get it.”
I tried to laugh off his sentiment in order to keep strong. I wiped at the tears on my face as I pushed a laugh to the top of my throat. One hundred thousand dollars? Was this man serious? I kept the taser poised in front of me in case he chose to come any closer. I wasn’t taking any chances with this man. I knew he was serious, and I knew he meant business, but I wasn’t going to be intimidated into giving him anything.
Especially one of John’s last paintings.
“It’s interesting that you laugh, because I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well, I’m not giving you anything, so I guess we’re at a stalemate. I’m not the one who was distributing the drugs. You need to talk to the girl I kicked out of my class for it,” I said.
“We did. She’s dead. The debt falls on your shoulders.”
My laughter ceased as the man’s eyes locked heavily on mine.
“You killed her?” I asked.
“Me? No. That was taken care of a long time ago.”
“I’m calling the police.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I looked up and saw the man draw a knife. He flipped out the blade and held it up toward one of John’s paintings. I ran out from behind the counter, and his eyes dropped to my baby bump, my hand outstretched as the blade drew closer to the canvas.
“Interesting development,” the man said.
“Don’t do anything you’re going to regret,” I said.
“I don’t regret anything I do, Hailey. Do you?” he asked. “If you try to call the cops, I’ll simply leave town. Wait out the heat and then come back. Only when I come back, there will be hell to pay.”
His eyes were locked on my baby bump, and I felt my world spinning. He was threatening my child. My unborn child. I cradled my arms around my stomach and backed away from him as his cynical laughter filled the room. The man lowered the blade from the painting but kept his eyes on my body, scanning me like I was some piece of meat.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said as he put away his knife. “And I expect you to have the one hundred thousand dollars.”
“It can’t be that much,” I said breathlessly.
“It’s called interest, sweet cheeks. And you’ve racked up a lot of it.”
My back pressed into the wall as my taser clattered to the ground. The man turned on his heels and left my gallery, a trail of dust and threats in his wake. I slid to the ground with tears streaming down my face while images of John flashed through my head. Memories of him painting in that shop. The feeling of that man’s hand around my neck. How John had ripped those men away from me and chased them out of the shop.
I could still hear John gurgling in the alleyway as I scooped his head up and cradled it in my lap.
My hands were shaking as I tried to get off the floor. My legs were weak, and my knees were trembling, giving out on my under the pressure and the fear I had experienced. I pulled myself behind the register and curled up into the corner, trying to take steady breaths as I closed my eyes.
One hundred thousand dollars?
Where in the world was I going to get one hundred thousand dollars?
Chapter 7
Bryan
I checked on the house throughout the day, which pissed off Foreman Jack. We were a week and a half away from having everything ready, and I had finally managed to get pictures of the nursery walls for the wallpaper to be put up. I told the foreman I had it ordered and that I was shipping it right to the site, so he needed to keep an eye out for it. It could be reordered if something happened to it, but that would push back the date the house would be finished.
And we were already pushing it as it was.
Work had been good, though I had heard from Hailey very little. She was supposed to be conducting her
first round of interviews today, and I figured I’d hear from her. I thought about going to her gallery to see how she was, but if she was in the middle of interviews, I didn’t want to interrupt her. But there was something churning in my gut. There was something that just felt off.
I was driving home from the foundation and decided to pick up dinner. With having all those interviews today, I knew Hailey wouldn’t feel like cooking. I drove through our favorite takeout place and got her all her favorites. I was planning on massaging her feet while she talked to me about her interviews. I wanted to hear all about them and who she was leaning toward. I wanted her opinions and her thoughts. I wanted to hear about all the paintings she had sold now that her European tour had come to a close.
Really, I was simply eager to see her.
Going on that tour with her had been wonderful, but now that we were both back at work, I missed her. I missed having her around and making memories with her. I missed walking the streets with her hand settled in mine. One of the great things about that tour was that we got to spend so much time with one another. I got to watch her shine and do what she loved to do. I got to support her and visit so many exotic places with her at my side.
And now that we were back in the real world, I missed having her in my sights during the day.
“Hailey? I’m home.”
I walked through the door and saw her sitting on the couch.
“I brought your favorite,” I said.
But still, she didn’t greet me.
“Hailey?” I asked.
“Bryan?”
“Of course, it’s me. Who else would it be?” I asked.
She was sitting on the couch, and her eyes looked distant, glossed over and withdrawn like maybe she was upset. I walked over to her and put the food on the coffee table before I cradled her close to me. Had something gone wrong with the interviews? Was she not feeling well?
“Hailey? Are you all right?” I asked.
She turned her head toward me, and I could tell something was wrong. And with Hailey’s history of trying to keep things from me so she could protect me, I knew I had to tread lightly. I slipped my arm around her waist and pulled her close, and her body didn’t even fight my movements. If this was her pregnancy making her feel this way, she would’ve fought me. She hated being touched if her body was feeling achy or sick.
“What happened today at work?” I asked. “Did something happen with the interviews?”
“Just such a long day,” she said.
She wasn’t lying, but she certainly wasn’t indulging. I knew she was dealing with pregnancy hormones, but something else was wrong. Something had taken place at work, but I had to respect that maybe she wasn’t ready to talk about it. It wasn’t like her cancer. It wasn’t like she was denying there was a problem. She openly admitted that it had been a hard day for her, so she was probably processing everything now.
I didn’t want to upset her, so I stuck with the topical comforts to try and ease her mind a bit.
“You know whatever it is, I want to hear about it, right?” I asked.
“I know,” she said.
“No matter how bad your day was, I want to be here to help you through it. Even if it means helping you unwind from it.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m just so tired. The interviews and the questions. Just watching them be so perky was draining.”
“How many did you have today?” I asked.
“Four. All in my last two hours of work.”
“Yikes,” I said. “Wonderful timing.”
“It was my fault. I figured the gallery wouldn’t be too busy today. Thursdays are usually my empty days now. But not today,” she said with a sigh.
That was what was bothering her. It wasn’t a busy day, but there was something that happened in her gallery before those interviews. I studied Hailey closely as her eyes locked onto the wall. She was slipping back into herself. Into her mind. It was like she was reliving something, like her memories were pulling her back somehow.
Her glazed expression looked somewhat reminiscent of the gaze my mother had at dinner the other night.
“Did someone come in asking about John’s paintings again?” I asked.
That had a tendency to get to her. People loved those two paintings. They had recently made it back to the gallery after a three-month stint in Los Angeles, so maybe having them back crowded her art gallery. I know people got curious about John sometimes, about the person he was and where he was at in his life when he’d painted those two pictures. Those days could be really draining to Hailey, having to talk about him and rehash his life.
But there was something in the way she was sitting that had me worried. She was cradling her stomach more than normal. Possessively, in fact, like something was wrong.
“How have your appointments been going?” I asked. “Is something wrong with the baby?”
“What? No,” she said. “What would make you think that?”
“You’re holding your stomach a little tight.”
She relinquished her grasp on her stomach immediately as she sighed.
“The baby’s fine. I’m just tired, Bryan.”
“Are you sure? Because if something’s going on, you need to tell me. We need to get some sort of help before—”
“Bryan, I would never keep something about our child away from you,” she said. “I know I’m not good at talking about myself, but I’m not heartless.”
“I never assumed you were. I’m just worried about you.”
“Well, don’t be. It was a long day, and they’re only going to get longer the heavier I get,” she said.
“Well, there’s something else on your mind. Is it your mother?” I asked.
“I haven’t even been thinking about my parents, to be honest.”
I knew she was still holding something back. The look in Hailey’s eye wasn’t only because she was tired. But I knew if I pressed more, she would get upset. Even though Hailey had a history of holding things back, I knew she would also talk whenever things came to a head. It wasn’t ideal, but at least she would talk when she was ready. I was worried that pressing her further would cause more trouble, and I wanted to have a relaxing evening with her.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Not really,” she said.
Another signal that something had gone drastically wrong today.
“Well, I can put it in the fridge, and you can eat it whenever you do get hungry,” I said.
“Sounds good.”
“Less than two months and we’ll have our bundle of joy in our arms.”
Hailey turned her face toward mine, and I could see the shadow of a smile playing on her lips.
“I think she’s going to have your eyes,” I said.
“And I think he’s going to have your height,” she said.
“I still think it’s a girl.”
“It feels so wrong to call it a girl. I really think it’s a boy. And I’m Mom. This child’s blood is coursing through my veins. That’s a thing, you know.”
“What’s a thing?” I asked.
“Mothers knowing the gender of their child before an ultrasound tells them. Most mothers have an instinct, and it’s usually right.”
“Where did you read such crap?” I asked, grinning.
“The internet,” she said.
Hailey hunkered down into my body as we leaned back on the couch. She pressed the button that shot out the bottom of the couch, so our legs were propped up. We leaned back into the reclining couch as I held her close to me, her hand on my stomach and her head on my chest. I pressed kisses to the top of her head as I ran my fingers through her hair, coaxing her body into a relaxing state before I sighed deeply.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
“You always make me feel better,” she said.
“Well, soon we’ll have a small little baby to make us both feel better,” I said.
“You’re getting excited, aren’t you?” she aske
d.
“Are you not?”
“Of course, I am. But, I’m also pregnant. I’m sort of ready for all of this to be over.”
“I can only imagine. Is there anything I can do to help you out?”
“Not really. This feels wonderful,” she said.
She hummed into my chest as my fingers continued to dance along the soft tresses of her hair.
“Do you ever think about John?” Hailey asked.
“You’ll have to be more specific as to why you’re asking that question,” I said.
“I mean, now that we’re pregnant. Do you ever wonder what he might have thought?”
I felt tears prickle the backs of my eyes as I drew in a deep breath.
“All the time,” I said.
“Do you think he would’ve been happy for us?” Hailey asked.
“Where’s all this coming from?”
“Just answer the question. Do you think he would’ve been happy?”
“I think he would’ve been ecstatic to have been an uncle. I’d like to think it would’ve prompted him to do even better with his life, so he could set an example for our little girl.”
“Little boy,” she said.
“Someone really asked some questions about John’s paintings today, didn’t they?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “It was the first person I’ve ever talked with who pointed out the pain in his dual paintings.”
“Which I assume he asked questions about.”
“Yep.”
“Hailey, I’m so sorry,” I said.
“It was bound to happen.”
My hand began massaging the back of Hailey’s neck, pulling a moan from between her lips.
“I know there’s a question you want to ask,” I said. “Why aren’t you asking it?”
“Because I’m not ready for the dialogue it’s going to prompt.”
“What if I promise you I won’t prompt it?” I asked.
“You’re capable of something like that?”
I could feel her grinning into my chest as I chuckled.
“I promise I won’t prompt any conversation about it if you ask the question, so I can settle your mind. You need to eat, but your mind is too preoccupied.”
