“Hey, Little Bug. You ready to go home?”
Her smile grew and she kicked her feet. “I so, so, so ready.”
“Let’s get you out of here,” I said, and I kissed her forehead again, unable to stop, before I finally forced myself to step back and shut her door.
Claribel Sanchez stood there waiting, before she gave me a slight tilt of her head. “I will need to follow up in a couple of weeks. Take care of her.”
“Always.”
She got into her car and drove away.
I started for the front passenger’s door when I felt the presence behind me. Mouth going dry, I froze with my hand clamped down on the door handle.
Sickness crawled across the surface of my skin.
He inched closer. My instincts kicked in. My body shrank away, my eyes squeezed tight, and my lungs sealed off.
Cringing.
Cowering.
I hated he still evoked this reaction in me.
Greed and conceit and spite pressed into my senses, and my lungs burned with restraint until I could do nothing but take in a sharp breath.
That smell.
There would never be anything I could do to erase it from my mind.
A noxious spice that under any other circumstances should have been pleasant.
But pair it with something vile, the memories of his body dictating mine—that scent soaking my nose and clogging my throat—and it was as if I were suddenly eighteen again. Just a scared little girl with a voice so many proclaimed adoration for…yet never really heard.
Regret curled my stomach with nausea, and Martin Jennings laughed, low and malignant.
I refused to bend to him. Slowly, I turned around and lifted my chin, my eyes narrowed as I took in the man who’d sought to take everything from me.
Using me up.
All too happy to hang me out to dry.
It was the same second I heard the driver’s side door click open.
A shimmer of violence pitched through the darkening day, a crack of aggression struck the dense air.
From behind me, I could sense every step Sebastian took as he carefully approached, making his way around the front of the Suburban.
Slow.
Purposeful.
Poised to protect.
I latched onto his controlled disdain, allowed it to multiply—to be enough for both of us—and stared at the face I wished I could forget.
My voice wavered, but I held strong. “If you hurt my daughter…in any way…I swear to God, I won’t stop until you wish you were dead.”
Martin Jennings tsked. “So angry, Delaney. Funny, I always thought you a pushover.”
His breath spread across my face as he inched closer. Eyes, so dark they were almost black, glinted with contempt.
A sneer curled his mouth. “You’d always been so anxious to please. Stumbling all over yourself for a little praise. You surprise me.”
Every cell in my body squeezed as memories of the mistakes I’d made surged forward.
Taunting.
Reminders of a past I had never wanted to live.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I spat, holding my ground while I felt as if it might crumble out from beneath my feet.
Memories of myself as a teenager swamped me. Growing up, every path I’d ever traveled had been with my mother at the reins. Leading me. I strove to conform to who she wanted me to be, always hungering for her attention. Anxious to make her proud. Desperate for a soft touch or a gentle hug or some kind of affection, rather than bearing the brunt of all her hateful dissatisfaction.
Sadness closed over me.
Both she and Martin had used that to their advantage.
Took advantage of me.
She had allowed him to take over everything in my life. Changing my image. My name. The songs I sang. I had been nothing more than his pretty little puppet, there to do with as he’d wished, which quickly included him claiming me as his own.
Just an ignorant lamb willingly led to the slaughter. Blind to what was waiting around the corner.
Until I’d discovered what was lurking behind it.
I could feel Sebastian edge forward. Tension wound in the force of his breaths, and Martin’s gaze darted over my shoulder at him, before it flitted back to me. He sent me a mocking smirk.
“I see you’ve gone digging through the trash for a little of that attention you’ve always been so desperate for,” he taunted with a chuckle. “Such a shame. A waste.”
The last dropped with slow insult, and I could feel Sebastian’s rage pulsing at my back, the man at war with himself to keep from attacking.
Air shot from Martin’s nose, and I knew he felt it, too.
“By all means, Mr. Stone, come at me. There would be no better way to end this day than watching you get hauled away in cuffs.”
“Stay away from us,” I warned through a barely heard whisper.
Martin laughed. “Do you really think you won today, Delaney? You think this is over?” His voice dropped. “Had you forgotten?”
Dread prickled across my skin.
Dark eyes glinted malevolent satisfaction and his mouth twisted in a morbid sneer as if he found glee with it. “Besides, I’m just getting to know my daughter.”
My daughter was uttered on a deviant’s tongue, yet came off with pure disdain. I wanted to puke.
“What do you want from us?” The words cracked. I knew it sounded as if I were begging.
Sebastian wound his arm around my waist, his hand firm across my stomach as he pulled me against him.
“Shea, don’t,” he urged, attempting to drag me back and keep me from getting sucked into the cesspool that was Martin Jennings.
Offhandedly, Martin lifted a shoulder, ignoring Sebastian, his tone deceptively sweet. “Come now, Delaney. Did you really think I wouldn’t return for you? I promised I would. And I never break my promises. You do remember what you cost me?”
He looked at me pointedly. Reminding.
But the underlying reminder wasn’t about how much money had been lost by my desertion. But what he’d planned to do with that money. Money effectively stolen from me because of the contracts I’d been pressured to sign. Contracts where almost all royalties went to Martin and my mother. My eighteen-year-old naivety had once again gotten the best of me.
Lester Ford was a name I’d wanted to forget. For years I almost had. But briefly hearing his name on the news about a year ago had caused everything inside me to seize. The announcement the Tennessee tycoon was throwing in a bid to run for governor tripping up my feet.
Ignorantly, I’d pushed the importance of it aside. Pretended some more.
Anger pressed at my chest. “I owe you nothing.”
He laughed as if I was ignorant, then glanced at the blackened back window of the Suburban. “Don’t forget she’s my daughter, too.”
It came across as another threat, this revolting man using my child against me.
Expendable.
A belonging.
A possession.
Just as my mother had treated me. The same as she’d passed me on to him.
Sold me, really.
I’d just been too blinded by my desire to please her to see it for what it really was.
But I wasn’t that frightened girl anymore.
He lifted his chin in a gesture toward Sebastian. “And you can’t imagine the pleasure it will bring me to take down the two people who owe me most in one fell swoop. I suppose I should thank you for slumming it with this piece of trash, Delaney. I couldn’t ask for a better scenario.”
He leaned in close as he mouthed at my ear. “I will guarantee your silence.”
I choked and Sebastian growled.
As Martin backed away, his smile curled the hairs at the back of my neck, fierce and shameless and somehow knowing. He turned on his heel and stalked toward the house.
There was no question he’d not forgotten my promise, either.
The shaky, foolishly bold
promise I’d made when he’d come to the hospital the day Kallie was born.
The one stating I would expose both him and Lester Ford if he didn’t let Kallie and me go, implying I had securities in place that would destroy him if something happened to me.
He’d promised I was nothing but a fool for thinking I had any control, and he’d be back for me when the time was right.
Maybe he knew I’d been bluffing. Doing anything in my power to protect my daughter.
Still, I was certain we’d danced around those threats for years. Each of us reliant on what one held over the other.
But why now?
“We’ll fight you,” I claimed on a broken shout.
Martin stopped. Slow to look over his shoulder.
I did everything I could to steady the words, to keep from conceding and yielding the way I’d always done. “And I promise, I’ll do everything to make sure you go down in flames.”
He began to turn back around, when I said, “And my name isn’t Delaney. She died a long time ago.”
The smile on his face appeared satisfied, and he shook his head as if pleased, muttering as he walked way, “You surprise me again, Delaney Rhoads.”
THE SUN WAS JUST sinking behind the trees when I rolled to a stop in front of Shea’s house.
Kallie had long since fallen asleep.
Shea climbed right out, immediately going to her daughter. Taking her. Holding her. Protecting her.
I was just as quick. I went to her side, my hand at the small of Shea’s back as we made our way up the walkway.
A couple paparazzi were staked out down the street, snagging pics, but I was thankful for the most part they were wise enough to let us be.
The front door flew open and April came rushing out, hands pressed over her mouth.
Relief.
All of us. We reeled in it.
Even if my hands twitched with the need to rip Jennings to shreds. Limb from limb. Slowly. Meticulously. Permanently.
That encounter had left a furor of violence demanding action and a load of new questions demanding answers.
Felt it coming. And soon.
Shea climbed the three steps up to the porch, and Kallie stirred, head poking up, brown eyes confused before they flashed recognition, joy and sweet and solace, the child immediately soothed by her surroundings.
Shea kissed her temple. “You’re home, Butterfly,” she whispered.
Kallie held tight to Shea’s neck, squeezing just about as tight as my chest squeezed with everything I never thought I could feel.
The emotion about more than I could bear.
Too fucking much, so fucking light and good. Blinding. All that beauty pressing in.
April touched Kallie’s face as Shea passed. Kallie looked up and smiled that precious smile.
“Auntie April.” Her voice was small, but the love shining from her eyes was enough.
April let out a quiet sob. “Kallie.”
Didn’t think Kallie was ready for the questions that needed to be asked.
It was clear in the way she clung to her mom. Quiet. Subdued.
Reeling from her own relief.
Instead, Shea sat down with her on the couch and rocked her, murmuring a thousand reassurances.
You’re safe.
I have you.
I won’t ever let anyone hurt you.
“You can ask me…tell me anything,” Shea said quietly at the top of her head. “Whenever you’re ready.”
God, the woman was the most incredible mom, and a pang of significance formed when I looked at the two of them together.
Mine.
Kallie’s tiny angel voice cut into the tension. “Can we watch Nemo?”
Shea couldn’t hold back the quick, soggy laugh, because asking if she could watch a movie didn’t come close to the direction of what Shea was suggesting.
But maybe there was some comfort in that, too.
That Kallie just wanted to do something normal.
“Yeah, sweet girl, we can watch Nemo,” Shea answered softly, hugging her more.
We all settled on the couch with the lights dimmed. April quietly stole upstairs after she pressed a kiss to Kallie’s forehead, then one to Shea’s, before she cast me a look that was both wary and filled with appreciation. Same way she’d been looking at me since I’d returned. Like she knew as well as I did that I’d brought trouble into Shea’s life.
Same way as we both knew Shea needed me.
Almost as badly as I needed her.
Shea shifted so she was nestled into my side, her legs angled along the length of the couch, Kallie all twisted up in her arms and resting her back on her mother’s chest.
I let my arm wind around Shea’s shoulders, my fingers softly twisting through Kallie’s hair, curls wild, wild, wild.
And you’d think it’d be impossible, but somehow this little girl managed to steal yet another part of me.
Didn’t know if it was just because she belonged to her mom.
That she was a piece of Shea.
This fucking gorgeous girl, who with just a glimpse had caused me to fall.
I knew it. The second I’d felt her standing there my life had been altered.
I never anticipated I would fall so fucking hard, and that when I finally landed, I’d no longer look the same.
The television flashed and flickered. Bright blips against the dark as the movie played on.
Shadows and silhouettes lit up their expressions.
My girls.
Shea tilted her head back and peered up at me. Her storm alive, subdued yet savage.
Dark.
Light.
Heavy.
Soft.
Everything got so fucking tight, like I couldn’t get air.
Like I was just beneath the surface.
Drowning.
Yet I felt I was floating through it all, on all that warmth and life and light.
Love was cruel like that.
A monster.
A savior.
Both anguish and ecstasy.
Because I knew right then, this life wouldn’t be worth living if I wasn’t living it for them.
In the darkness, possessiveness swelled.
Like a shroud wrapping them with my promise.
It didn’t matter the circumstances or the consequences.
The result would be the same.
I’d do anything, give it all, make any sacrifice to keep them safe.
To keep them happy.
To keep them together.
No matter the cost.
“Be careful, Little Bug,” I warned over my shoulder to a wiggling Kallie, as I stood at the sink filling a huge pot with water. Perched on the butcher-block island that rested in the middle of the country kitchen, her little legs kicked and arms flailed as she danced around to Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl playing on the small radio sitting next to her.
Nothing in the world seemed more appropriate.
“I know, Baz.” She said my name like a ballad, lifting it high and pitching it low. A wide grin split her face, exposing her perfect, tiny teeth. “I’m so, so big, you know. I’m gonna be five in only six more months. And I’m bein’ super safe.”
Okay, I drew out in my head, little thing none too shy to set me straight.
Kallie didn’t miss a beat and launched back into the song.
Afternoon light spilled in through the windows. Hazy rays struck against the untamed mound of her curls. Lighting her up. Like some kind of halo followed her around everywhere she went.
And damn, the kid learned fast.
Second time she heard the song?
She was singing those lyrics like that was exactly what she was made to do.
Shutting off the faucet, I moved to the stove, lit the burner, and placed the pot full of water over the flames. I turned around and crossed the short space to Kallie’s side and went back to slathering butter onto two halves of French loaf bread.
Yeah.
&nb
sp; Apparently I’d become all kinds of domestic.
Lyrik and Ash were going to have a field day.
I eyed Kallie, attempting not to smile when she gave me another one of those grins and clasped her hands together. “Oh, Momma is gonna be so, so excited when she gets home and we have dinner all ready for her.”
She waved her hands in the air when she said all, tone oozing with innocence and a dash of country.
So fucking cute.
I lifted a brow. “You think so?”
“Uh-huh, I know so. Momma likes surprises. Almost as much as me.”
I chuckled, thinking Shea was going to be surprised, all right. Kallie and I’d managed to trash the kitchen in about three point five seconds. Kallie was nothing less than a whirlwind and I wasn’t exactly what one would call skilled in the kitchen.
We made quite the illustrious pair.
“Did you know I’m gonna have a surprise party one day?” she chattered on, shaking a shit ton of garlic salt on the bread I’d just finished buttering.
“I’m going to have butterflies all over and a butterfly dress and a butterfly cake. Oh, oh, OH, and butterfly face-paintin’, just like at Paige’s birthday party ’cause it was so pretty and I want everyone at my whole party to look just like a butterfly princess.”
Garlic salt was flying all over the place. Kallie’s attention was more focused on the faraway fantasy she was conjuring than the task at hand. She said birthday like ‘burfday’, and another one of those hardened parts inside me melted.
Swore to God, the kid wielded some kind of magical princess powers—tossing around some glitter and sparkly shit, casting a spell to bring the next man who crossed her path to his knees.
Pretty sure her mom possessed that power, too.
I was in deep, deep trouble.
Another chuckle rolled off my tongue, and I tapped Kallie’s button nose. “Not sure it’s considered a surprise party if you plan it yourself, Little Bug.”
That precious nose scrunched up with confusion, before an idea clicked. “How ’bout you plan one for me, Baz?” she asked. Caramel eyes went wide with their hopeful plea.
There was nothing entitled or assuming about it. It was all awe and hope and imagination.
Yep, I was completely and utterly fucked.
Owned.
Hoped to God I wasn’t supposed to be resisting all the cuteness, because it was just not gonna happen. Figured there were all kinds of rules set in place about not spoiling a kid rotten, but there wasn’t one bratty bone in Kallie Marie Bentley.
Drowning to Breathe Page 10
