by Gigi Aceves
(Able Series, Book #2)
By
Gigi Aceves
Unmistakable
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
Epilogue
Bonus Scene
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Playlist
UNMISTAKABLE
Copyright ©2014 by Gigi Aceves
All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in whole or in part by any means.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are either fictitious or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Editor:
Angie Davis
Cover Design:
Heather McNeal
Interior Design and Formatting:
Perfectly Publishable
Fifteen years ago
As my mother’s soft fingers caress my cheeks, her words forever stay in my heart…they’re the only link I have of her.
“I hope, someday, I’ll see you again. I hope when I do, you’ll have the ears to listen, the arms to accept, but most of all, I hope you’ll have the heart to forgive me. It’s not that I don’t want you, it’s that I can’t have you. It’s best if you stay with your dad, but please know this, my heart will forever be full of hope. The hope that someday, in God’s time, we’ll meet again.”
Abruptly, I sit up, clutching my hands on my chest after waking up from yet another dream about my mother. My ten year old body shakes with great longing, a sadness that leaves me broken. It leaves me with a void as big as the universe and as deep as the depths of the darkest abyss. I wish my dad had never given me her stupid goodbye letter on my tenth birthday. Maybe, I wouldn’t have these stupid dreams about her. Her words haunt me. They make my heart bleed, making me empty inside…but hope…hope fills my bleeding heart back up, and maybe…just maybe…someday…love…love will transform my battered heart to its original form.
Dreams…my dreams come and go. They dance in my mind like a song, rocking me to sleep, only to be woken up, and the feeling of emptiness washes over me. I wish I’d never dreamt of my mother saying things that make me wish she’d pick me, instead of leaving me. So, the dreams…the dreams go on…in my dreams my mother loves me…in my dreams she picks me.
I make my way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. As I walk back, I hear my dad and stepmother in my dad’s study. They’re talking about how to get rid of me, and my nightmare begins even when my eyes are wide open. As hard as I try to forget where I am, to forget what I’m feeling, to deny what I’m hearing, I can’t. How can I? I’m glued to where I stand, hearing every single thing that no child should ever hear.
“I’m telling you, John; we need to get rid of her. It’s not going to help you with your campaign to be Governor. She’s acting up in school. Just last week, I received two phone calls from the principal’s office. You, certainly, don’t need negative publicity,” My stepmother’s evil tone makes my skin crawl.
My dad’s loud and frustrated groan keeps me from moving, “Tessa, we can’t do that! How many times am I going to tell you, getting rid of her isn’t on the table?”
Getting rid of her? Am I a piece of garbage that can be thrown away? Why do I feel as if I’m a jar of peanut butter on a conveyor belt to be easily be put back in the return pile? Is this how a father should love his daughter?
“It didn’t stop you from getting rid of the other one. Remember the end game, John. I’m through listening to you. If you don’t do as I say, I will tell her! Is that something you want? She’ll hate you; if she doesn’t already.”
The chair screeching, and it hitting the floor makes my heart beat faster than it ever has. I want to leave, to run to the safety of my room, but I can’t. I want to know every gory detail; I want to hear every painful word that will come out of my stepmother’s evil infested mouth.
“What do you mean ‘if she doesn’t already’? What have you been telling her? Tessa, so help me. My mistake was listening to you the first time. I’m not making that same mistake, again,” My dad’s loud voice bounces off the walls of our cold, loveless house.
“You’re not the only one who makes the decisions here. I’m just as much a part of this as you are. We planned it this way, remember? We got married because both our families are influential. I forgave your first indiscretion when you got someone pregnant, but you didn’t learn. Like an idiot, you fathered another bastard with the same woman! I’m done!”
Nothing, but silence from my dad. It’s almost deafening. The witch takes my dad’s silence as a green light to spew another gallon of the bile from her mouth.
“Get.rid.of.her! I don’t know why I even listened to you. I know you said keeping her would be good PR for your campaign. Of course, it’ll pull on the heart strings of women voters. ‘Oh poor John, re-elect him because he saved his love child from getting aborted by his whore, and his wife, lovingly, accepted the bastard child. Besides being a good Mayor, he has a heart of gold.’ Enough of that bullshit! She’s a nuisance, just like her whore of a mother.”
My world seems to topple down like a pile of Jenga when I hear the evil witch say my dad fathered another child. Do I have a sibling somewhere? All along I thought my mother didn’t want me, and that’s why I’m here. All along, I thought my dad wanted me…that he loved me, but the honest truth is, all this time…I’ve not been loved by anyone.
My dad’s pained voice halts my scrutiny of my life, “I can’t do it again, Tessa.”
The witch’s laughter doesn’t make my skin crawl, anymore. In fact, it just makes my blood boil. However, what came out of her mouth next makes me see red, enough to make me wish for God to strike her where she stands. I want her dead.
“You’ll suck it up as before. You’ve been a successful Mayor. The next stop is Governor, then Senator, and hopefully, the Presidency; but if you continue this idiotic plan you have, you may as well kiss your dream goodbye. Let me make this abundantly clear, I’ve invested time and money to put you where you are. I’ll make you and your family bleed for every dollar if you don’t stick to the plan. I will make your life miserable! I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
I look at the door separating me from my dad, silently begging for him to rescue me, to grab me, take me in his arms, and leave this place. To choose me…but he doesn’t. To love me…but of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he says the words…words that cut deep…words that destroy the very essence of love which exists between a father and daughter…words that create a hole so big, no one can ever fill it.
After a long silence, my dad adds yet another painful condition to my already pain filled life of lies and convoluted agreements. “Fine, I’ll let her go. I’ll agree, but only if you promise me, my kids and their mother will not be harmed, that includes my entire family. If you can’t promise me that, I’m walking right now.”
Her icy tone and evil mouth spews yet another slew of ve
nom, “Walking? You can’t just walk away. You sold your soul to the devil a long time ago, John. I’ll let you have what you want, but no communication at all. Forget them. I want her gone by tomorrow.”
I’ve heard enough, so I run to my room, straight to bed. I’ve lived my entire life in nothing but lies, pretending everything is a-okay. I’m humming, In The Arms Of An Angel by Sarah Mclachlan when I feel my bed dip, and I know it’s my dad. I wish he would remain silent, but in the same breath, I hope he utters the words my heart wants to hear.
“Baby girl, I hope, someday, you’ll have it in your heart to forgive me. I can’t undo what’s been done; it’s too late anyway. Life is full of limitations and restrictions, but what I can give you is freedom from the Hell I’ve created. You’ll have a better life living it away from me…far away from this.”
As soon as I hear my door close, I know who to call. I’m tired of all the lies, deception, and conditions. With a shaky voice and a hopeful heart, I call the one person, the one family member, who loves me unconditionally.
“Uncle Jack,” My hurt filled voice manages to say two words. That’s all I need to say.
His confident voice never wavers, “I’ll be there, kiddo. You trust me?”
“One hundred and ten percent,” I say with as much conviction as a child my age can possibly conjure.
“Outstanding! I’ll see you soon.”
At such a young age, I lost trust, not in love, but in people. How could I not? When the two I’ve grown up with webbed a life full of deception, my own father put conditions on his love for me, my own mother doesn’t want me, I lock my feelings tight, secure them with all of my ten year old strength, and time it shut with my not-so-innocent-from-pain heart, telling myself to never…ever let anyone in.
Not even death can make me open it ever again.
Even though my heart is in the state it’s in, a small part of my heart tells me that when God closes a door, He always…always opens a window; small enough to breathe…wide enough to escape…just enough to live, and just the perfect time to start. My new beginning is with the only four people I know I can trust…with them I’m safe, loved, and free. I’m free to be me. The love they offer is without restriction…it’s genuine…it’s undeniable…it’s unmistakable.
Present Time
I feel as though I’m having an out of body experience. I hear things, but can’t clearly see anyone or anything around me. Every inch of my body hurts, but I remain focused on Roxy’s face in my mind. The image of her breathes life in me…through me…all around me. I know, I’m fucked up. My trigger finger is broken, I have multiple gunshot wounds on my chest and shoulder. My leg hurts like a motherfucker. Damn fuckers did a number on my ass. However, as long as she’s okay, all this pain, it’s all worth it, because at the end of the day, losing her is not an option. Not now…not ever.
Even if she’s broken my heart.
The next thing I feel are hands all over me…tugging…pulling…poking…what the fuck! As I slowly open my right eye, bright lights hit my eyeball which causes me to flinch, closing my eyelid shut.
I mumble, “Love…” I try to move, “Love…you…too?”
Someone holds me down and whispers in my ear, “You’re in the hospital. Who are you looking for?”
I, slowly swallow and say, “My…lo…love…” I can barely speak. Something is on my face over my mouth. Talking makes my chest hurt…everything hurts, but the need to see her is worse than the pain I’m feeling.
I try my hardest not to go under without seeing her. I’ve been shot before, almost bled to death, but not seeing her…not touching her…it breaks me even more…it leaves me to bleed even more. The bullet hole, somewhere in my battered body has probably grown in size for every second I miss seeing her beautiful face. The only person that can plug every hole in my body…that can soothe any hurt is now not within reach.
Another female voice says, “Male approximately 26 to 28 years old, gunshot to the chest and shoulder, lacerations, and contusions on the face and head, left eye swollen shut, knee cap swollen, probably fractured or broken. Pulse weak, vitals tacky, decreased consciousness, and labored breathing. Jesus, you’d think he came from a war zone.”
A male voice says, “He has a sucking chest wound and a massive right side hemothorax. I need a thirty-six chest tube, and chest x-ray stat.” I hear the male voice start barking orders, “Did we establish an antecubital IV lines? It’s a through and through shot.” Another round of pulling…tugging, then the male voice continuous rambling, “Someone get me the sonogram. I need to know if our guy has pericardial tamponade.” The male voice ceases.
A female voice says, “X-ray to trauma bay one. Stat!”
More pulling…more tugging. I feel like fucking Humpty Dumpty, but damn it; I didn’t have a great fucking fall. I’ve been fucking shot!
The male voice shouts, “Shit, give me a large gauge needle attached to a 20ml syringe. I need to drain the blood around the heart. Call the OR; this guy needs surgery to stop the bleeding, ASAP!”
The next thing I know, I’m moving, or someone is moving me. My eyes are heavy, but my consciousness flashes a pretty picture of my love…my Roxy. Only God can explain this, but I can sense her. The stronger the feeling permeates my entire being, the closer I think I’m getting to where I’m supposed to be. Where the hell am I going, anyway? Are they taking me to her? Am I meeting my Maker?
Oh, God not yet.
Give me one more glance…
One more touch…
One more kiss…
Just One More.
The only place that can give me peace is in her arms…in Roxy’s arms. It’s my hope that I’m heading to Roxy because she’s the air that fills my lungs...the blood that flows in my veins….she is my life.
My mind flashes pictures of what happened to her. If she had only listened, but she NEVER listens. Then, pain…excruciating pain…caused from not knowing if she’s safe engulfs my entire being. Fear restricts my heart, it clouds my thinking….it breaks my soul.
But, I feel her…I felt her, right?
I feel as if I’m floating around a sea of blackness, then a flash of light blinds me, and then nothing. Even though I go in and out of whatever state I’m in, my prayer never stops. I’m begging God over and over again to keep her safe.
God…my…life…for hers.
Subconsciously or consciously, as soon as I hear the whoosh of the door closing, the connection is instantly cut…Am I dead? I’ll feel connected to her if my heart’s still beating, right? Or, I’m alive and she’s dead? No! I’d rather die than her…not her.
“He’s crashing! Let’s get going folks…he’s flat lining!” A fading voice says.
Then, I feel it…my heart gives…my body is beaten up and broken, but what I know is true…my heart’s last shout…its last call is to Roxy. My heart may stop, but before it ever does, it beats only for one person because our love…my love for her is undeniable…irrefutable…unmistakable.
Three months prior
Why did I even think to have a stupid dinner outing? I feel as though I’m a bird in a cage since the stupid Mexican cartel is on my-tweety-bird ass. How my life turned upside down again, I can’t even begin to comprehend. Who do I blame? Can I blame God? Do I blame the people around me? God wouldn’t just make life miserable, right? Aunt Patti always tells me, ‘we may never know the reason behind the trials that come our way, but one thing you need to know is, there’s a greater Being right in front of you. He walks ahead of you, alongside you to guide you, who’s faithful to complete the work he started in you’. What work may I ask?
All my life, as long as I could remember, I’ve prayed not to ever see or hear of my father. It’s a simple prayer, a simple request, but God’s secretary probably forgot that memo, because here I am now. Furthermore, I thought I’d escaped my stepmother’s evil clutches. Apparently, everything I’ve thought was wrong. Absolutely….wrong.
I’m close to the bathroom doo
r when I hear the shots. In an instant, there’s chaos everywhere, people running, shoving, and screaming as I stand, momentarily, shocked. Like a statue, I stand there, my heart beating erratically, and my brain is seized with panic. I need to center my mind, just like how LT showed me.
Center your mind? Girl, there’s no time for meditation! You’re not in a damn yoga class! What the hell am I supposed to do? Roxy, get your head in the game! You need to hide so you won’t look like Swiss cheese! I push open the door and lock myself inside one of the stalls. I step on the toilet, squat, and press both palms against the stall walls balancing myself, and I wait. These stupid heels will be the death of me!
I suddenly feel my clutch vibrating. Who would be texting me? Slowly, I reach in for my phone, swiping my shaky finger on the screen, I see Trish’s face as I try to balance myself. Ugh! I should work at a damn circus with all this balancing act I’m doing.
Trish: what’s going on, Foxy Roxy?
Seriously? I’m getting shot at here…I’m in danger, girl. That’s what’s going on. Am I going to answer? Are you kidding me, nobody’s got time to socialize! What part of guns, bullets, and dead doesn’t register in your brain? My foxy-self, as always, is on point. Sometimes, she really does make sense….sometimes. Then, another text comes through.
Trish: are you ignoring the mother of the dick-kins?
Is she for real, right now? Obviously, she doesn’t have the 411 on the 911 situation you’re in, and you’re a foxy mess! Concentrate! Sing with me….First, I was afraid, I was petrified! Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side. What the freak is wrong with me? Why am I even thinking of singing? It’s a stress release, missy. You, obviously, can’t have sex, so let’s do a sing-a-long! Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive…I will survive…I will survive…hey, hey! I’ve completely lost it…totally.
Where is Cody? I need to get out of here! No, stupid, stay put! I want to see him! You’re not going to see him if you’re shot between the eyes!
