Fate: A Trinity Novel: Book Five

by Audrey Carlan

  Misty inhales and the tears finally fall. “You’re going to take my daughter away from me.” Her hand comes up to her chest as if her heart physically hurts.

  Now this I can’t handle. I do not do well with women crying. The poor thing is positively shaking in heels too high for the job she has. I stand up and pull her into my arms in what I hope is a comforting hug.

  “God, no. Misty, relax, honey. I’d never do that to you or to anyone, but that also doesn’t mean I won’t want to be in my child’s life. Shared visitation. That kind of thing.”

  Misty curls her fingers into my dress shirt. “But she’s only a baby. She can’t be away from her mother. I’m all she’s ever known.”

  Fuck. I knew this would be bad, but Jesus Christ, I had no idea my heart and mind would take such a beating.

  I run my hands up and down her back until her body stops trembling.

  “No one’s taking anyone away from anyone. We’ll work it out. I promise you this. You’re not going to lose your child. If she is mine, we’ll work together to do what’s best for her. Sound like a plan?”

  Misty sniffles and pulls back away from my chest. She huffs out a tortured breath and wipes at her eyes with both hands.

  “It’s going to be okay. I swear it.” I make the promise, not sure how or if I can even keep it.

  * * *

  “Why are you being so secretive about this woman of yours?” Chase leans against the arm of his white leather couch in his high-rise office overlooking the Pacific.

  I sigh. “Brother, I’m not. It’s complicated.”

  He takes a sip of his scotch and swirls the liquid around, and the ice cubes clink against the glass, sounding overly loud in the wide open space.

  I take a sip of my own drink, letting the liquid burn a trail of fire down my throat. I welcome the prickling heat. At least it’s better than the alternative, the endless reminders of what’s been running rampant through my mind the past week.

  Chase taps his lip. “Women are always complicated. Now tell me why this woman has your balls in a vise.”

  As much as I want to spill my guts all over his pristine couches, I hold back. I’m not ready to hear the chastisement in his tone when he finds out I may have gotten a woman pregnant, and worse, not have known it for over two years. Chase is the epitome of a family man, though people wouldn’t know it with the no-nonsense way he runs his empire. But when it comes to Mrs. Davis and their twins? He’s a whole different man. His wife and kids are his world, and Gillian’s pregnant again, which means the Papa Bear side in him is out in full force. When it comes right down to it, I’m not sure he’d understand the predicament I’m in right now.

  The truth is, I don’t know how to tell my cousin about this. Until I know if the child is mine, I’m not opening Pandora’s box.

  “Look, let’s just say I’m in deep.”

  Chase’s eyebrows rise into his hairline. “Interesting. How so?”

  I cringe. “Not that it’s any of your business, asswipe.”

  He smirks while finishing off the last of his drink. “Another?”

  I slam back the rest of mine. “Fuck yes.”

  “The fact that you won’t discuss this woman does not give me the warm fuzzies.”

  “Warm fuzzies? Who are you? Did Gillian rip off your balls and replace them with pink fuzzy dice again?”

  Chase lets out a warm chuckle. “Too right. Shit, she’s already trying to do too much with this pregnancy. She’s driving me positively insane. The caveman in me wants to keep her locked up in our penthouse, barefoot, pregnant, and taking care of our twins. In the grand scheme of things, is that so wrong? Really?”

  “Man, let her be. She knows her body.”

  “I know it better,” he deadpans, not even a hint of humor in his tone.

  I grin. “Touché.”

  He lifts his full glass in a salute before refilling mine with another two fingers of Macallan 24.

  “Seriously though, what’s her name?”

  “Misty.”

  “Sounds…uh, young.” His words are an accusation.

  “Not too young.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  I groan. I knew coming here today was a bad idea, but I’d been blowing him off for three weeks. If I hadn’t hooked up with him he would’ve sent out a search party.

  Chase comes around the couch and sits across from me. He pulls one ankle up to the opposite knee and stretches out his arm in an open-for-discussion gesture.

  “Carson. You’ve never been so tight-lipped about a woman before. This is me. Your best friend, your blood. You know you can tell me anything. Hell, how many times have I confided in you?”

  I smile. “Really? Because I don’t remember getting an invite to a spur-of-the-moment wedding in Ireland three years ago.”

  “How long are you going to hold that over my head? It’s been years. Give it up.”

  Chase’s blue eyes look like they could pierce through mine, like daggers of truth sticking me straight through the heart.

  “Fine. Christ, I’m sorry. Okay, here’s the deal. She’s a woman I had a one-night stand with two years ago.”

  Chase frowns. “Two years?”

  I can almost see him doing the math in his head. “When you were trying to get Kathleen back?”

  The second tumbler of whiskey goes down far easier than the first while I mull over his words. “Yeah, I met Misty immediately after the last time I tried for a Hail Mary.”

  “You mean after I had to pick your drunk ass up at a random shithole motel?”

  I nod. “That would be the night.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You never mentioned a woman.”

  “I vaguely remembered her, man. Apparently, after I fought with Kat and she kicked me out the last time, I got shitfaced, took Misty to a nearby hotel, fucked her, and passed out.”

  Chase shakes his head.

  “Yeah. Not my best moment. Worst of it is, I didn’t even remember her name. She was gone before I woke up.”

  “Well, I can only say we all have times in our lives we’re not proud of.”

  I run my hand through my hair and pull at the roots, wishing I could be honest but knowing I’m not ready for the backlash. The sting of pain in my scalp brings me back to the present moment. “It’s just random that I’d catch back up with her.” What’s more ridiculous is that the one night of sin might turn into a lifetime of service, but I keep that tidbit to myself.

  “So, there’s a spark?” he asks.

  I want to say no, there’s no spark, not a single flicker of excitement when I think about her, because the only firecracker I’ve ever felt was a tall blonde with a chip on her shoulder who continues to deny us a happy ending.

  “You could say that,” I lie.

  Chase twitches his lips and squints. He knows I’m lying. Luckily, he doesn’t call me on it.

  “I did say that. Does this mean you’re seeing her?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m seeing her.” For now, I want to add, but choose not to. If it turns out this woman is the mother of my child, I’m going to be seeing a lot more of her.

  God, this is a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

  CHAPTER THREE

  KATHLEEN

  I glance around my costume closet. Black clouds of smoke billow along the ceiling and push through the bottom of the single closed door. The room is in the basement level of the San Francisco Theatre and is closed off from the rest of the production team. The show transformed the area because of the exorbitant number of necessary costumes, and it’s definitely not the safest place to work.

  Getting up fast, I head for the window and stand on a chair to reach it. For some reason, it’s blocked with what looks like wooden boards that weren’t there yesterday. I pound on the window, trying to open it. No dice. The smoke around me gets thicker.

  Grabbing a scarf, I place it over my mouth and nose and breathe through it. I don’t know much about
smoke, but I do know fire sucks all the oxygen out of the air and that smoke is harmful to breathe. Going over to the only door, I grab the handle and scream as the heat from the metal knob sears the center of my palm. I back up and get my bearings, ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand.

  I’m starting to feel light-headed. A tightening around my chest adds pressure to my upper body as though someone is stepping on me one foot at a time. I wrap a scarf around my blistered hand, wincing and blinking away the pain. Then I grab another piece of clothing near the door and use it to turn the handle. I have to get out of here!

  Right before I grab it, the smoke alarms sound. I clench my teeth and hold my breath, trying not to suck in the fumes coming up from under the door. Finally, I yank the door open with my right arm, and I’m blasted by a wall of fire. Pain rips up my right arm and over my side as I use another piece of clothing to smother the fire licking against my skin. The scent of charred flesh pierces my nostrils. My mouth waters.

  “Help me! Please help me!” I scream before I kick the door shut.

  Tears fall down my cheeks, wetting my face. My eyes burn from the smoke, and I can barely breathe. The air in the room is as thick as a Bay Area foggy day, only hot as hell.

  “Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs, but no one hears me over the alarms.

  A pounding sound comes from the window as I fall to my knees, the lack of air suffocating me. I gasp like a fish out of water, looking up toward the window. A speck of black night comes into view. Fingers yanking and then bare feet smashing against the window. My eyes roll back in my head.

  “Help…” I whisper as I fall face first to the floor. “Help me.”

  * * *

  “Wake up! My God, Kat, please wake up.” Gigi’s voice breaks through the fog and haze of my nightmare.

  I jump back, my arm throbbing and aching. I groan and cradle it protectively.

  “Kat, Jesus! You scared the hell out of me!” Gigi cries, petting my arm and head.

  “Us. She scared the hell out of us,” Chase clarifies from his perch against the wall. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of silk pajama bottoms and a frown, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Shit. The nightmares.

  I blink away the fear still clawing at my psyche and press my fists against my eyes. “I’m sorry, guys. Uh, just a dream.”

  “Honey, you were screaming for help. Over and over.” Gigi places her hand at her throat, a worried gesture if ever I’ve seen one.

  Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. “Again, I’m sorry.” I start to shift my feet and push the covers back. “I can go home. Really.”

  “No, no, no! Chase!” Gigi’s voice is pleading.

  “Absolutely not. You’ll stay here with your family. But I am upset you didn’t mention you were still having the nightmares.”

  Like a balloon deflating, all the strength I’d built up about this secret seeps out of me. “I have them every once and a while.” Lie. “Seriously, they are not a big deal.” Lie. “I’ve already forgotten what I was dreaming about.” Triple lie. I’ll never forget that night. It plagues me daily.

  What if they hadn’t broken through the window?

  What if Maria had come alone and passed out too?

  What if the bodyguard hadn’t been able to pull us both out?

  Chase scowls. “Kathleen, you can lie to us all you want, but it never works.”

  Totally not true. That shit works on the girls all the time. Just not on Chase. He’s always been able to see through people.

  I ruffle my hair out of my eyes and pat Gillian’s hands. “Honey, I’m fine. Really. I’m sorry I woke you guys up. It was just a nightmare. I’m fine.”

  Gillian stands up, placing a hand over her small bump. She’s only four months, but she’s already showing.

  Chase moves over to his wife and places a hand over hers. “Baby, you both okay?”

  She nods silently.

  “Go on to bed. I’ll make sure Kathleen is comfortable and meet you in five, okay?”

  “’K,” she says sleepily. “Love you, Kat. Good night.”

  “Me too. Good night,” I say, watching her leave, her long silk robe trailing behind her. The woman looks like a nineteen fifties Hollywood film star in her lush off-white dressing gown.

  “You’ve got one classy broad there. She always sleep wearing satin and silk?”

  Chase grins. “Unless she’s naked and under me, yes.”

  I crinkle my nose and make a gag sound. “Dude, she’s my best friend.”

  “And I’m certain you know far more about our sex life than you should. She is not shy. Now, back to the nightmares. When did they come back? And don’t bullshit me.” His tone is hard and biting.

  “Come back?” I huff with a laugh. “Chase, they never left. Some nights are worse than others. Tonight, I relived the fire in its entirety.” I ran my hand down the knotted, bumpy tissue of my right arm. “Can still vaguely feel the burn of the flame.”

  He sucks in a harsh breath. “Dr. Madison tomorrow?”

  “Fine. Yeah. Whatever.”

  Chase comes over to me and rests his hand on top of my head. He messes up my hair like a big brother would. “We’ll get through this.”

  I want to laugh at the absurdity of his optimism, but I don’t have the energy. Lethargy is setting in, and I need to sleep. Even with the nightmare, I sleep better here than I do at my place alone. Something about being in a home where I’m loved makes it easier to slumber peacefully. Well, except for the pesky recurring dreams.

  “Thanks, Chase.”

  “Anytime, Kathleen. Anytime. You are always welcome here.” He turns to walk back out of the room.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  He stops and leans against the doorjamb. His golden bare chest is on display, looking mighty fine. Reminds me of Carson. If I squint a little, I can almost imagine Carson’s wheat-colored layers and the enticing patch of blond curls, which trail down his stomach to one of my favorite parts of him.

  “Do you?” Chase asks softly. “Do you know how much we welcome you in our home, our lives, our hearts?”

  I grin. “You getting all mushy on me, Davis?” I use his last name whenever I want to make light of something.

  “Guess so. Just want you to realize how much you matter to this family. And that is what you are. Family.”

  “Believe me, I know.” If I didn’t love them and the rest of the girls so much, I’d have left a long time ago.

  “Good. I’ll have Bentley make your favorite tomorrow. Crepes.”

  “And cookies?” I joke.

  “Of course.” He grins wickedly.

  “That’s your favorite, Chase. But I love a good crepe.”

  “Huh.” He blinks a few times and rubs at his chin. “You know, you’re right. It is.” He winks and then taps the door before closing it.

  I shake my head. That damn man. Always poking his nose in my business.

  You love it, Kat. At least you know he cares. And having him as close as you do is the closest you’re ever going to get to having Carson again.

  I roll over, tuck the extra pillow against my chest, and think of the man I lost. The raw emotions the dream brought back and the sweet and gentle nature of Gillian and Chase bring on tears. They slide down my face and wet the pillow below.

  When am I ever going to find myself again?

  “Good night, Sweetcheeks.” I hear whispers through my psyche. His whispers, the only voice I long to hear.

  * * *

  I open my eyes to red curls and blue eyes. Claire is lying right next to me, her head on the pillow level with mine. Her nose is only a few inches from mine.

  “Auntie Kitty, you need to take a boy out of my mommy’s belly and hide it.” Her eyes get big as she whispers conspiratorially in her three-year-old voice.

  I chuckle and kiss her nose. “Honey, I can’t do that.”

  She scrunches up her entire face, looking distraught. “But you wike boys. You wik
e my bruh-ver, Car Car.”

  If my arm worked better, I’d grip her around the waist and tug her close so I could snuggle her. Man, I wish I could do that. I choke down the sorrow the thought brings and focus on the very serious-looking Claire.

  “What’s so bad about boys? You and Carter have a great time playing together.”

  She pouts. “Yeah, but he won’t pway dolls and Barbies and doesn’t wike to cohwor wif me. A sister would.”

  I tap my chin. “This is true. But it just means you get all the dolls and all the Barbies to yourself. You get to keep the best color crayons and markers. You know how your brother presses too hard and messes them up?”

  Her expression turns thoughtful. “Yeah. He does that!” she says loudly, as if it’s just dawned on her.

  “If you have another sister, she’ll want to touch all your stuff, play with all your toys, wear all those pretty dresses I made you…”

  Claire gasps. “But those are fer me!” Her eyebrows draw together.

  “Very true. And you know how cousin Anabelle and Dannica fight about their stuff?”

  Her little mouth opens in a tiny O.

  I can already see the wheels spinning in her mind.

  “If you have a brother, he’ll want all of Carter’s stuff. Not yours.”

  “You fink?” She squints at me, disbelief rife in her gaze.

  “I know.”

  “Auntie Kitty?”

  “Yes, honey.”

  “Don’t take my new bruh-ver. I decided I want him.”

  I lean over and kiss her face and blow raspberries against her neck, making her giggle like mad. Man, I adore the sound of a child’s laughter. If someone could bottle it up, it would cure the entire world’s ailments. Definitely mine…for today.

  “You gonna get up now?”

  “Yeah, honey.” I sit up without thinking about the fact I’m only wearing my camisole and a pair of undies. The sheet falls, and my entire arm is out in the open, visible to very impressionable eyes.

  Claire sits up and points at my arm. “Ouchy boo! Auntie. You hurt!” She leans closer, slanting her head to the side.

  My heart is about ready to pound out of my chest, and sweat prickles against my hairline.