“It is.”
A faint but incredulous smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and I want to weep for the time we’ve lost. For all the times I’ve wished Tyson was there. Not just when I first found out I was pregnant, though that would’ve been amazing. Not just when I was giving birth, but also that magical moment when they put him into my arms and I looked at our son. He was so red and wrinkled with thin monkey arms and his father’s bright, bright blue eyes. His father should’ve been there for that. The first time he smiled, the first time he laughed. The nighttime feedings. The times when I watched him sleeping, awed by his perfection. All of those times. He missed out on all of them, and they would never come back. I felt sorry for everything he would never see.
“He looks just like you,” I whisper
“I can’t believe this.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
He shakes his head, waving his hand. “No, no, I believe you. I don’t think you’re lying to me. It’s the shock of knowing I have a son.”
“I would show you a photo, but I don’t keep his picture in my phone or wallet, because Tony gets jealous.”
Just like that his expression hardens to stone. His eyes narrow dangerously. “I’m that boy’s father. He’s my son. He’s my responsibility, and I want to be there for him and you. You’re my family.”
“Tyson …” I’ve wanted to hear him say those words ever since I peed on that stick and two lines appeared. There is no way to describe how much I’ve needed him to want us, but now that he does, I realize I can’t just sail into the sunset with him. Tony’s thugs will hunt us down and hurt Christopher. He knows I love my child so his first instinct has always been to hurt Christopher. Once in the early days when he spied on my telephone call with Charlotte and she had advised me to leave him, he came into the room, grabbed my throat and said, “Try it if you really want to watch me kill that bastard child of yours.”
“No,” Tyson says firmly. “You can’t push me away now. It was bad enough when I found out what that coward does to you, but don’t even think for one second that I will allow that sick fuck anywhere near my son.” His nostrils flare as he breathes in and out like a bull. For a second I feel a frisson of fear. Tony and Tyson are chalk and cheese in appearance, but that’s how Tony breathes when he’s about to hurt me.
I take an involuntary step back and Tyson’s face suddenly crumples.
He looks at me with a pleading expression. “Don’t ever be afraid of me, Izzy. I’ll never lay a finger on you. Ever. No matter what you do or say. I’d rather die than hurt you. Do you understand?”
I nod and take a step forward. Carefully, I slide my arms around his neck. His arms come around me and I have to gasp with the pain. Muttering an oath, he holds me away from him. We stare into each other’s eyes. His are dark and stormy with emotion.
Gently, he starts unwrapping my scarf. His eyes widen at the sight of my throat. I see a flash of fury in his eyes before he masks it. He touches the midnight-blue marks almost as if he can’t believe his eyes. Then he begins to unbutton my coat.
I let him take my woolen dress off. Gentle hands lightly run over the dark patterns on my body. When his eyes meet mine again, they are brimming with tears. I touch his wet eyelashes.
“I love you, Izzy. I’ve loved you for two years,” he cries brokenly.
I smile through my tears. “I love you too. I’ve loved you from the first time you touched me. I only went with Tony because I was so lost and lonely, and I thought you didn’t want me.”
“Why him?”
“Because he pretended to be the kindest most considerate person. He told me he would take care of me and my baby. He said it didn’t matter if I didn’t love him. He just wanted to help me. I didn’t know it was all an act. He was a chameleon.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I love you and nothing else matters. I’m going to take care of you from now on. Both you and Christopher.”
“I’m afraid of Tony. Of what he can do.” My voice is a terrified whisper.
“Do you trust me when I say you will come to no harm?”
I nod. “What about my mom?”
“If she’s your mom then she is my mom too.”
My shoulders sag with relief. “Oh, Tyson. You have no idea what it has been like for me. I’ve been so frightened.”
“Come on. Let’s get you dressed. We have to act quickly.”
“Where is Christopher now?” he asks, zipping up my dress.
“With my mother. He doesn’t live with me. It is too dangerous”
He nods. “All right. Where is Tony? Right now?”
“I—I don’t know …”
“You said he was going out of town, right?”
“He told me he was going to, but yesterday he said he didn’t have to anymore. To be honest, I don’t know. He might have been trying to trick me. I’ve had to second-guess everything he’s ever told me.”
He nods. “You’ll never have to see him again, and he will never hurt my son.”
I wish his words were a comfort. I wish I could collapse in his arms and believe that everything will be all right. Instead, all I can do is sob softly because I know it is not going to be that easy.
Chapter Thirty
Tyson
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for a bit?” Izzy’s eyes are wide with fear as we go down to the hotel basement where my car is parked. I know I’m not in a position to get her level of fear, but I’m going to do everything I can to help her understand I don’t fear him at all and he can no longer hurt her. Ever.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I say gently. “We can’t wait another second to do this.” Unlocking my door, I help her inside. She winces as she leans back. Fuck, I can’t even think about what he did without wanting to beat the shit out of him. Let’s see what a big hero he is when he has to deal with someone his own size.
My head is buzzing as I follow her directions to her mother’s house. My Izzy is with a man who beats her. I have a boy. A son.
She looks around nervously when I park in front of a block of apartments. Other than a few teenagers playing with their bikes there is no one around. We get out and walk to her door. She puts her key through the door and before she can push it open, a woman who looks like an older version of her is standing in the hallway. Her face is white and she looks terrified. At the sight of her daughter her hand clasps her chest.
“I don’t know what I thought when I heard your key,” she mumbles. “I knew you wouldn’t be coming here at this time. I thought … oh God ...”
“It’s okay, Mom. Everything is okay. This is Christopher’s dad, Tyson.”
“Hello, Ma’am,” I greet with a polite nod.
Her eyes skitter to me then back to her daughter.
“He’s going to help us. We don’t have much time though. We have to hurry and get out of here,” Izzy says.
Her mother’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t ask any questions. Just nods her agreement. Almost as if she was waiting for this moment. Hoping somebody would come along and save her daughter.
“Only take whatever you need for tonight. We can buy everything else tomorrow,” I say.
“I’ll get Christopher and his stuff. You go get yours, Mom. Just pack a small bag.”
Silently, Izzy’s mother turns to obey her daughter.
“Please leave any mobile phones or laptops behind,” I instruct.
Her mother nods and scuttles away. Izzy takes my hand and we go upstairs. She opens a door and steps into a blue room illuminated by a night light by a cot. My feet won’t move. I stand stock still at the threshold. All my life I wanted my own family. Brothers, sisters, a father, and I never had it. Even the sad, alcoholic mother I had was taken away from me, but in this little blue room is my family. All mine. Made from my own seed.
Izzy turns back to look at me, her eyes questioning, curious. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I say softly, but I’m so choked with emotion I can barely get the word
out.
She tugs at my hand again, and suddenly I can’t get to the cot fast enough. I follow her eagerly. A child is sleeping, his fat arm thrown over his face. I stare transfixed. Gently, she moves his arm away and I see his face. He is, without doubt, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
My son. This is my son. I think of my mother. How she would have loved to have seen him. Something unfurls inside me. Love for him fills my heart until it feels as if my heart will burst. I will die for this tiny life. To think of Tony threatening this innocent angel makes my blood boil.
“Oh, Izzy. I can’t believe I missed everything,” I whisper. My voice sounds broken.
“You won’t miss anything, anymore,” she says softly.
“Never again,” I promise.
She puts her hands into the cot and lifts up our sleeping child. It must have hurt her, because she winces slightly as she adjusts him against her body. Turning to me, she says, “Do you want to hold him?”
I swallow hard. “Won’t I wake him up?”
“It will take an earthquake to wake him up,” she says with a smile.
I don’t smile back. I can’t. I’m too happy. Too proud. Too amazed. “Are you sure about this? I’ve never carried a baby.”
“See how I’ve got him. Fold your arms in the same way, and I’ll just put him in that cradle like space.”
I copy the position of her arms and she lay Christopher into them. Maybe it comes from working with horses, but as soon as she puts my son into my arms, my body instantly loses its anxiety that I wouldn’t be able to do it properly, that I’ll drop or hurt him. He is so tiny my hand can support his whole head. My hands go around Christopher naturally, protectively. I lift our child up to my face and kiss his soft cheek tenderly. He smells of milk and innocence.
I look at Izzy’s face and she is nodding. Her eyes are full of joyful tears as if she just saw the proof she needed that she made the right decision to trust me. The heavy burden of protecting Christopher from Tony all on her own has been magically lifted from her shoulders. As if the sight of me with Christopher in my arms is everything she has ever dreamed for the last two years.
For an eternity we stare at each other, both of us lost in our own joy and the little being we created. Then her phone rings and she jumps like a startled cat. She takes her phone out of her bag, looks at it, and back up to me.
“It’s him,” she whispers.
“Don’t answer it. Get Christopher’s things. Quickly.”
She runs around the room throwing essentials into a yellow overnight bag. In minutes she is ready. We go out of the room and she knocks one of the other doors on that floor.
“Are you ready, Mom?” I hear her ask.
“Yes,” her mother replies coming out.
We go down the stairs and out into the night. The teenagers are still there with their bikes. I curse, but there is no way around it. They turn to look at us. No wonder. We make an unusual sight. We look like we are running away.
I settle my son in his grandmother’s lap at the back and carefully put Izzy in the front passenger seat. I am worried that she might have broken ribs. I need to get her to a doctor in the morning.
“Where are we going?” Izzy asks as we drive away.
“You’ll find out when we get there. You wouldn’t know where we are going even if I told you,” I explain, glancing into the rearview mirror to make sure we are not being followed. Tony’s not the only one with connections. I’m taking them to a gypsy camp.
It will be a shock to Izzy and her mother, but I trust these people implicitly. I have to take my family where even the cops will not dare to tread. It’s too dangerous for them, but not dangerous for me or my family.
Our surroundings start to get a bit dodgy after thirty minutes of driving out of London. We don’t talk much. Finally, we turn off the motorway into Hounslow. I take a dirt road to a gypsy caravan site. Even though it is already dark, children run towards our car.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Izzy’s mother asks anxiously as she sees the caravans.
“It’s the best shot we have,” I murmur as I steer the car over the narrow path.
“Tony, his men or the cops will not dare come here. There is no one here who will betray us. These people are fiercely loyal and protective of their own kind,” I explain as I navigate the car between two stone walls connecting the east and west side of the camp. There aren’t many lights on in the windows, but I still see faces peering out at us. The ladies must see them, too. A look in the rearview mirror shows a very worried looking woman.
“It’s not the Ritz, but it’s temporary and it’s the safest place for the three of you,” I say.
“Won’t you be staying with us?” Izzy asks worriedly.
“No. I need a bit of time to arrange things for us.”
“We’ll be fine here, Tyson. You go on ahead and do what needs to be done,” Izzy’s mother says firmly.
I catch her gaze in the mirror. “Thank you. I promise there is no safer place you can be. I’ve spent more time here than I care to recall,” I say as I park the car between a ditch and a pile of rubbish. It doesn’t do much to settle their minds, I’m sure. I turn to them. “As a boy, I had a lot of friends in this village. I know it like the back of my hand, and the people here know me.”
“You’re friends with gypsies?” Izzy asks, looking around us with a dazed expression.
“Yes. I know. Crazy, right? Rich boy is friends with gypsies. I’m actually half-gypsy. After I ran away from the correction center I lived with them for many years. I wanted to run free, and that is what I did with them. It’s where my love of horses comes from. I know the woman who lives in that house,” I say pointing to the one on my left. “Mariella is a truly terrible cook, but she is a good woman.”
“What if Tony does track us here?” Izzy asks.
“Then God help him. Those people are lovely and very welcoming. They would give you the shirt off their back, all of them, but they’ll also show Tony he’s not half as tough as he thinks he is if he tries to start trouble. Believe me. I’ve seen them handle themselves.”
Mother and daughter look at each other, having a silent conversation.
I add, “It won’t be forever. Just until I can think of something more permanent. My top priority at the moment is keeping all of you someplace where he can’t find you. I need to be able to make my plans without having to worry about what he’ll do to you.”
“No,” Izzy whispers, turning to me. “Now, I’ll have to worry about what he’s going to do to you.”
“He doesn’t even know I exist … yet. But he will.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I can take care of myself, Izzy. You just stay safe here.”
Mariella opens the door before we can even reach it. She comes out with her arms open and envelops me in a warm, soft hug. “Oh, my boy. It’s so good to see you again.”
“Thank you for doing this,” I say close to her ear.
She pulls away from me and looks at me incredulously. “After everything you did for me and my boys? This is nothing.”
I introduce my family to her and she grins widely. “I’ve made a lovely dinner for everybody.” I look at Izzy, and for the first time since she called yesterday to say she won’t be turning up, I smile.
She widens her eyes. “You are staying for dinner, aren’t you?”
I pat my stomach. “Would love to, but I just had food. Couldn’t manage a thing.”
Izzy grins back. She looks happy.
I wait long enough for them to get settled in before I say my goodbyes. Izzy touches my arm. “Please. Come back and collect us quickly,” she whispers. “Not because I don’t like being here or anything, but I do hate being without you.”
I pull her close to me and inhale her scent with my entire being. She makes me feel like a king, like I could do anything. All I want to do right now is to start our life together, but I’ll have to be patient. I’ve waited t
his long. I can wait a few more days.
“I’ll come back soon. I promise.” I kiss her gently on the side of her swollen lip, and run the back of my fingers on her cheek. I have said goodbye too many times to this girl. If I am smart and play my cards right this could be the last time.
Chapter Thirty-One
Tyson
Ralph did offer to stay and take care of the farm, but I told him to go to his big family gathering five miles away. It’ll be good for me to go back to the farm. My best thinking time is early in the morning when I am astride one of my horses and galloping across the open fields. I feel good that I have taken Izzy and Christopher away from Tony.
By now he would know they are gone. My family are safe for the time being, but I need a plan quickly. One doesn’t rest on their laurels when they’re dealing with a psychopath.
I know my enemy. I’ve done my research. He’s a nasty, vile, disgusting excuse for a human being who is already linked to at least a half-dozen murders. Those I know about are only the ones the police are actually aware of. There might be dozens of others. People who didn’t know when to leave well enough alone, who tried to testify against him in court, or who wouldn’t back down when he threatened them.
Izzy’s face floats in the front of my mind’s eye. Beautiful, fragile, injured. He’ll never hurt her again, not as long as there’s breath left in my body. I think of my son with wonder. I don’t think I’ve fully appreciated him yet. Even the thought is amazing. My mind drifts to the future. I can already see myself teaching him to ride. Giving him a real childhood in the country with horses, and dirt, and values. It’ll be a sweet life.
I’ll make it a sweet life.
The first step of my plan has to be drawing up a will and making Izzy completely self-sufficient should anything happen to me. I immediately call my lawyer’s office and leave a message for him to call me in the morning.
I only stopped once to get some sandwiches, but by the time I get back to Suffolk it is after midnight. I open the front door and I’m in such a hurry to start work I don’t even bother to switch on any lights or switch on the heating. I go straight to the back of the house where my office is. As I’m firing up my laptop I hear gravel in the driveway crunching. A car is coming from the direction of the stables and halting in front of the house.
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