by Mandy Rosko
"Of course there was," Cindy said. "I wouldn't lie to you about something like that."
Or, maybe she was part of that percentage. "So where is it? Did you drop it off at a fire station? Because I checked out your living conditions, and there was no sign of a toddler living with you."
That had been the first thing he'd checked on when he took her. The last thing Jack wanted to do was leave a child, a baby, alone and defenseless without an adult around to feed and care for it.
There had been nothing. No crib, no toys, no pictures. Not even a second bedroom and definitely nothing in her room that suggested she had a guy who stayed over some nights. Cindy lived alone.
"Miscarriage," Cindy said, and she was looking down at her hands, playing with her fingers.
Jack's stomach dropped, and the sick sensation of all the blood within him draining from his face and body came next, which was the first clue that he believed her.
He believed her. She had been pregnant, and she'd lost the baby.
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if that was why she'd burned down the house, but looking at her now, he was dangerously close to seeing her the way he used to see her. She was just a girl, a woman at this point, and despite her dangerous powers, he hadn't thought her capable of squashing a spider.
Really. She always made him do it.
"I-I'm sorry," Jack said.
Cindy was avoiding his eyes now. "You don't have to apologize to me, you know. It was yours, too. I already dealt with it."
If that was true, then why wasn't she looking at him?
"Aren't you upset?" Cindy asked, and now she finally was looking up at him. "I just told you that you were almost a father."
"I heard you," Jack said, and he felt some warmth return to his limbs. "I believe you. I'm just more concerned about you right now."
And it was true. The second the words came out of his mouth, he knew them to be the truth. He believed her about the pregnancy and the miscarriage. He didn't think she was lying about that.
Cindy stared at him, her purple eyes wide and so damned innocent. Nothing was as easy or as clear cut as he thought it would be. He almost wished for everything to go back to when he had thought it was so simple. To when he hated her and despised her. Everything was easy, then. His mission had been simple.
Why couldn't Jack have a radar? An inner lie detector? Something! Something that he could use that would tell him with a hundred percent certainty whether or not this was all an act? He wanted to pull her to him and just hold onto her.
He handed her his body wash instead. "It doubles as shampoo," he said when she took it with a questioning glance.
"Seriously?" she asked, giving him a look. The corner of her mouth was turned up in a sexy half smile.
"I'm a guy," Jack said. "I don't keep girly conditioners and soaps in here. Old Spice is all I got."
Cindy continued to stare at him, but then she smiled and opened the cap. Jack couldn't take his eyes away from her as she soaped herself up.
To make matters worse, she looked over her shoulder and grinned at him. "Want to wash my back?"
He recognized a come on when he heard it. Just like he recognized how she was deflecting so he wouldn't ask her any emotional questions involving their child.
Despite that, he couldn't bring himself to care as his cock took over the thinking for him. "Hell yes, I do."
Chapter Eleven
Cindy hadn't been this satisfied in years. Not since Jack was taken away from her, and there was nothing in the world better than being made to face the tiled wall of the shower, having her hands thrust above her head and her feet nudged wider apart before being mounted.
This was just proof of the fact that she hadn't been laid in forever, otherwise it just made no sense for her to be able to get off so soon after her last orgasm.
Or Jack was just that talented.
Either way, he left her gasping and shaking, with a smile on her face, before he finally got to washing her back like he said he would. He even helped with her hair.
Yeah, this definitely felt like they were two years back in time. Even as they rinsed their bodies and Jack turned the water off so they could dry and get out, it was only when the chain clinked between them that Cindy remembered that she was still a prisoner.
"Here, dry off," Jack said, handing her a towel, back to being cold and unapproachable again.
Cindy toweled herself, but only because she was freezing now that she was out of the warm water. Otherwise she might've been a little too terrified to move.
She couldn't stop staring at the long, thick scar on his back. It was clearly a from a burn, and with how deep it was in some places was impressive in a morbid sort of way. She was grateful that he was even still walking. "I didn't mean for what happened to your family to happen, but it did, and I'm sorry," she said quickly before he could cut her off.
"I don't want to talk about that with you," he said, not looking at her as he pulled his jeans on.
"I didn't start that fire, Jack. You have to know that! There would have been a police report, or some kind of investigation that said it was regular arson—"
Jack slammed his fist down on the bathroom counter. The bang was as loud as a gunshot, and Cindy was instantly quiet.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, and Jack looked like he was gasping for breath when he turned to look at her. "Stop talking to me about that," he said, and he looked absolutely serious.
Cindy looked down at his hand, which was still clenched into a fist on the counter. She was surprised that the surface hadn't cracked.
Cindy nodded. "Okay," she said. "But I will be talking to you about it later."
Jack’s face softened for a brief moment, but then he glared at her again, before turning around so that she couldn't see it.
Cindy's heart hurt for him. Not for herself, and the fact that he thought she was a murderer, but for him.
She wasn't going to give up on this. "What should I get dressed in? My clothes are dirty and torn and I can't put on any of your shirts."
Jack sighed. "Just...wrap the towel around yourself. I'll bring you something from my room."
He'd bring her something from his room? "I'm not going back with you?"
"I'm tired. I want to just lie down for a while. I'm going to put you back downstairs."
"In the basement where it's cold and dirty? What was the point of having the shower then?" Cindy snapped.
"It's not dirty down there. I cleaned up before you came."
"It's still cold, and muggy. You really need a dehumidifier down there."
"Cindy, stop it."
"I don't want to go back down there!" Cindy yelled. She hated it, but a feeling of hysteria bubbled up inside her at the thought of going downstairs, maybe being put into the box, and then left alone, no chance to speak with Jack again, until the Collectors came for her."
"Jack, seriously, please, let me stay up here with you. You have me chained up and it's not like I can do anything to you anyway."
"You're right, you can't do anything to me because if you tried it, I would just kill you."
She didn't believe him. It was just the fact that he'd said it at all that made her shiver. "So, does that mean you won't make me go back into the basement?" Cindy asked. She was supposed to be seducing her way into his bed again, but for the moment, that plan looked like it was sailing right out the window, because there wasn't much of anything that was sexy about begging. Not this sort of begging, anyway.
Jack let his head fall back, and he sighed as he stared up at the ceiling. It was something he always did when he was losing his patience.
"Yes," he said finally.
Cindy breathed a sigh of relief.
Because Jack didn't look like the sort of guy who owned a hair dryer, she towel dried her hair quickly, which left it damp, and then followed him out with the big yellow towel wrapped around her middle.
She was definitely feeling better when they got back to
his room.
"We're not going to have sex again," Jack said softly. "So you don't have to worry about that."
"You make it sound like what we did was a bad thing," Cindy replied, and she went to sit down on the bed.
Something about knowing that she was going to be sleeping in it made her sigh as she flopped down and rolled onto her side.
Jack only had to stretch out his arm just a little as he walked around the other side of the bed.
He kept his jeans on as he let himself fall face first onto the mattress.
Cindy bounced a little, and she was somewhat surprised. He wasn't kidding when he said he was tired.
But he didn't stay that way either. He lifted himself up and turned onto his side as well, and he was now looking at her.
"We're both going to get your pillows wet," Cindy said.
He nodded. "Probably."
"You don't have to watch me. I'm not going to do anything and even if I could, I wouldn't," Cindy said.
"I know."
Cindy frowned. "Because you would kill me if I tried, right?"
He actually looked a bit uncomfortable at the mention of that. "I wasn't...that wasn't what I meant to say," he said, and then he looked at her from top to bottom. "When did you lose the baby? If it's okay that I ask."
Cindy cringed at the question, but she nodded. "I miscarried the day of the fire."
Jack's eyes widened at that. "Are you serious?"
Cindy turned onto her back. She could still feel the pain in her gut sometimes. "Yeah. I was punched in the stomach a couple of time. He didn't make it."
She could feel the weird way Jack was looking at her, if that made any sense. "How do you know it was a him?"
"Not because of some paranormal power I have, I promise you that," Cindy said. "That's just...I'd just rather call the baby a him than an it."
"Oh, that makes sense," Jack said, and when Cindy looked at him, he was staring down at the space between them, and the chain that connected them, before their eyes met again. "Who punched you?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it kind of does," Jack said.
Cindy was stunned. "You actually sound kind of angry."
"I am. You were carrying my baby."
Cindy was silent. She was trying to think of what to say, trying to read what was going through Jack's mind. She must've taken too long because he started talking again.
"I believed you then and I believe you now, so tell me who was it that punched you? If it was a collector then I can find him and deal with him. They have rules about handling pregnant paranormals."
"You believe me about being pregnant, but not the fact that I wasn't the one who lit your house on fire?"
Jack pursed his lips, but now it looked like the glare he had on his face was directed at her, instead of the person who killed their child.
"Stop looking at me like that," Cindy said. She decided to risk getting kicked out of his bed and thrown into that box because she was tired of this and tired of being pushed around. "You can't have it both ways. You believed me when I said that I was pregnant but you don't believe me when I try to tell you that I'm not the one who set the fire."
"My house burned down with me, my father, and my brothers all inside of it the night after I told you what I was, and I hadn't seen you the morning before it happened either. That is not a coincidence."
"You're right, its not," Cindy agreed.
Jack frowned at her, but it was a curious one. "What?" He sat up and looked at her. "You were telling me all this time that it wasn't your fault and now you're going to say that it was?"
"That isn't what I said," Cindy replied. She tried to keep herself from yelling or getting emotional. She knew for a fact that if she started yelling, then Jack was going to start yelling, and then neither of them were going to hear the other.
She had to stay calm while Jack was still listening. The problem, however, was that Cindy's throat almost immediately closed up in a painful way that happened whenever she became so monumentally sad that she was about to cry.
"Stacy punched me," Cindy said.
Jack frowned, and she could almost see the wheels in his head turning as he tried to remember who exactly Stacy was. "Stacy...your old roommate?"
Cindy nodded and wiped both hands over her face. At least she wasn't wearing any makeup anymore. "Her and Stephanie. You didn't know this, and I didn't tell you, but they're paranormals, too."
Jack raised his blond brows for a hair of a second before he rolled his eyes and fell down on his back again. "I guess I should've seen that coming. You all lived together. Jamie, too?"
Cindy nodded, and then stopped and stared hard at him. As far as she could remember, she'd never introduced him to Jamie.
"His name was on your phone," Jack said in response to the look on her face. "Don't worry, I didn't find him," he said, as if trying to calm a scared animal.
That helped only barely. "I guess there's no point in hiding anything else from you since you're going to find out about him sooner or later. He can control electricity. Sucks it up from the wiring in the walls, or batteries, wherever he can get it," she said.
Jack's body was tense again, his hands clenched into fists and his eyes hard and angry. "He hit you?"
Cindy probably should have been happy that Jack still cared about her even this much, enough to be angry about the idea of someone hurting her, but she was still caught up in what had happened that day. "No. Just Stacy. Jamie was at work, and when he got back and found out what had happened, he was the one to let me out. He didn't have anything to do with what Stacy and Stephanie did."
"You said, let you out. What do you mean by that?"
Cindy knew she would have to reveal more details about this. She took a deep breath and got braced herself, even though she wasn't ready by a long shot.
Chapter Twelve
At first, Cindy hadn't taken their threats seriously. She lived with these two women, after all, for long enough that she'd thought she knew them. So she thought.
When they confronted her about Jack, after he'd left, Cindy was shocked to discover that Stephanie had been listening in on her and Jack speaking together in her room.
Then she'd gotten angry. What followed was a shouting match, and once Cindy started up, Stacy and Stephanie saw no reason to listen to her when she tried to explain that Jack wasn't going to be an issue.
In fact, they seemed to think that Cindy told Jack more than she really had.
"You let a hunter into this house! Are you that fucking stupid? Why would you tell him about us? Are you really that dense?" Stephanie demanded.
Cindy didn't like being insulted, which was why she lost her temper and yelled back at the other woman in the first place. "He's not a hunter! I didn't know that's what he was when I brought him here either! And if I did, then I still would have brought him because—"
"Because what?" Stacy asked. "Because he's different? Because he tells you that he's in love with you and that he's going to take care of you?"
"You don't even know what you're talking about," Cindy snapped. It irritated her that Stacy phrased it as if no one normal could ever love her. Just because they hadn't found anyone who would keep their secret didn't mean they had to act this way.
"I know you're every bit as idiotic as Stephanie thinks you are, and I think so too. How you've made it this far without getting caught and locked away really is a miracle.”
"I saw him," Stephanie said. "When you brought him in and when he left again. Very nice looking. Cute boy-next-door type. I bet he gives you all kinds of puppy dog eyes, too. Real innocent, never hurt a fly. And he's a hunter, making his country proud."
"I'm leaving," Cindy snapped, and she hoisted her purse over her shoulder and started walking toward the front door.
Stacy was the one to grab her by the arm and yank her to a stop.
Cindy looked down at where the other woman held her, and she felt her inner fire burning brighter.
"Let go of me," Cindy said, staring the taller woman in the eyes as she tried to be as threatening as possible.
Stacy wasn't a pyro, but there was fire in her eyes just then, and she gripped Cindy's arm tight enough to cause her real pain as she hauled her around and slammed Cindy against the wall. One of the pictures hanging there fell off, and the glass frame shattered on the floor.
The wind sailed right out of Cindy's lungs. "Are you out of your mind?" she shrieked.
Stacy's fist was hard and hurt like all hell when she punched Cindy in the stomach. It happened so fast that Cindy didn't even get the chance to warn her that she was pregnant, or protect her stomach, and Cindy was left coughing and gasping for air as her legs no longer worked to hold her up. She wanted to slide down to the floor, but Stacy held her up. "Jesus Christ, do you think this is a joke? Is that what this is to you?"
Stacy was in full on attack mode as her thin but strong fingers grabbed onto Cindy's hair, yanking her head back and forth before she slammed her knee into Cindy's gut.
Stacy got riled up and talked tough whenever she ranted about hunters, but Cindy never thought the woman could be this violent. Cindy coughed and gagged for air. "Stop," she gasped.
"These are our lives you're playing around with! I'm not about to get picked up by the collectors and dissected for you!"
Stacy slapped her that time, hard enough across Cindy's cheek that it burned as hot as her fire.
That was fine. She'd take a slap in the face over more abuse to her stomach any day.
"I—I'm pregnant. Stop, please, I'm pregnant," Cindy begged, keeping one hand over her stomach while holding out the other, as if that would be enough to ward off the other woman and her rage.
Stacy's eyes widened, but Stephanie was the one who came to Cindy's defense. "Jesus, Stacy. If you don't cut that out she's going to run and tell her hunter boyfriend."
