by James, Marie
“You’re here to make sure I follow through with what you said in the alley.”
“I don’t rem—”
She lowers her voice, trying, and failing, to sound more masculine.
“That money is for the abortion if my stupid ass put that shit into motion…”
Chills race over my skin, leaving behind the sting of regret.
She pats her pocket. “I still have the money, so thanks for that.”
I bite my bottom lip until I taste tangy copper on my tongue.
“You don’t have to go in with me.” Her lack of bravery is betrayed by the crack of her voice. She’s trying so hard to make me think she’s strong, all I want to do is wrap my arms around her and promise her the world. “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”
I reach out and clamp her thigh again when she tries to open the door.
“Georgia.”
Her tear-streaked face turns, telling me she’s listening, but she’s looking past me, not directly in my eye.
“You didn’t let me finish. I’m here to hold your hand in that clinic if that’s what you want.”
She nods.
“Or to hold that baby when it’s born and help you raise him.” Her eyes finally meet mine. “I’m not here to convince you one way or the other, but I’m here for you—whichever direction you go.”
“You’re not here to stop me?”
I shake my head, but her eyes trail to my throat where I work on the dry lump that has formed there.
“You’re lying,” she whispers. “You do have an opinion about what I should do.”
I follow her eyes when they look down at the hand gripping her thigh, the hand that’s keeping her from getting out of the SUV.
“It’s your body. It’s your choice.” I shake my head, fingers flexing against her jeans as I resist the urge to cup her cheek.
She looks out the window, staring at the entrance to the clinic, and I sit in silence with my heart pounding in my chest.
“You want to marry me and raise this baby together?”
I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up my throat. “Fat fucking chance.”
I can see mirth in her eyes when she looks back at me. The reaction on my part was natural, but the smile on her face tells me it’s exactly what she wanted to hear.
“No happily ever after for us?” She gives me a weak smile. “No handful of kids and white picket fence in our future?”
“That’s not what you want either,” I add.
“You said you’re unemployed after today. Why would you think that?”
Shaking my head with a quick chuckle, I look back over at her. “Fucking you is one thing. I don’t imagine your dad is going to be happy that I knocked you up.”
It’s her turn to laugh. “I’m a grown woman, Jameson.”
God, I love the sound of my given name on her lips, the breathy way it falls off of her tongue.
“You are,” I agree.
“We can just not tell him,” she suggests.
“A baby is kind of hard to hide,” I reason with her, but the fact that she’s considering keeping the child makes my heart soar.
When she looks up at me, a small smile playing on her lips, the brightness she lacked in her eyes is there once again. She’s breathtakingly beautiful.
“We don’t have to go back.” She shifts in her seat, anxious for the future she’s imagining. “We can stay here in Vegas. Get a three-bedroom house or apartment.”
My brow furrows.
“One for me, one for you, and a nursery.”
I told her there’s no happily ever after for us, and I meant it, but for some reason, the thought of us living together sounds perfect until she specifies that it’ll be in separate rooms. As if I would have the ability to stay out of her bed. Out of her.
I can’t live in Vegas. It’s too far from Izzy. I’ve spent years too far from her. When I discharged from the Corps, I told myself, I promised her, I’d never be more than a few hours away.
“I’m not living in Vegas,” I mutter. “And I’m sure as fuck not getting a three-bedroom apartment and hiding a grandchild from your dad.”
Her mood changes the second the words are out of my mouth.
“Why do you keep running? What’s so bad about New Mexico?”
She clears her throat past the emotion that’s playing in her tear-filled eyes.
“I hate it there.”
“Not good enough.” I cup her cheek like I wanted to earlier.
“They want me to be Ivy.”
The twin. The one that looks so much like the woman sitting in this SUV, but amazingly different at the same time.
“You’re nothing like your sister.”
“Much to my parents’ disappointment,” she mutters.
“You’re not a disappointment.”
She gives me an incredulous look before turning her eyes back to the clinic.
“My appointment is in five minutes.”
“Okay.”
What else could I possibly say to her?
Silence fills the inside of the SUV, thick and full of unsaid things.
Five minutes tick by, then another ten.
“Are you going in?”
Her head shakes, and relief fills my heart.
“Not today,” she whispers.
I put the SUV in drive and pull away before she can change her mind.
“We have to tell your dad.”
“And he’s the deciding factor?” I can’t ignore the bitterness in her voice.
“It’s your choice. I won’t force you to make a decision one way or the other, and I sure as fuck won’t let anyone else either.”
“You’d go against my dad?”
“For you?” I ask. “For that baby? For your right to choose what happens to your body? How you want to live your life? Any day. Every day for the rest of my life.”
“Careful, Jameson. You’re making me want things I know I can never have.”
She refuses something to eat, so we head back to the hotel I checked into late last night. It’s better than the one back in Dallas, and I know I got the upgrade hoping she’d come back here with me at some point. I wanted her in comfort if she followed through with the procedure, all the time praying she’d be here under different circumstances.
“You seem way more okay with knocking me up than I ever expected,” she says as I open the door for her and let her walk in first.
“I feel guilty,” I confess as I toss the keys on the table in the corner. “I should’ve taken the time to wrap up that night.”
She winces and turns so I can’t see her face.
“You regret hooking up with me.”
I don’t even try to stop the laugh that bubbles from my throat.
“Regret? Not a fucking chance.” Her shoulders tense, but she doesn’t turn around. “I don’t know that I’d change a damn thing, even considering exactly where we are right now.”
That’s the fucked-up truth to this entire situation. Even risking losing my job, even the different scenarios of how Dallas could’ve ended, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
“I’m tired,” she says in a soft voice. “Can I take a nap?”
“Of course. Bed is yours.”
I watch, my mouth going dry when she pulls off her t-shirt and jeans. Crawling between sheets I tossed and turned in last night, she sighs heavily before settling into the comfort I know she isn’t afforded in whatever shithole she’s been staying in.
I don’t ignore the text I get from Shadow. I don’t pretend like we’re living on borrowed time in some bubble like I did before. I don’t know how much Cerberus knows, but it won’t be long before the cavalry shows up and tries to sweep her away. I imagine they’ve done it so many times; it’s just become part of their routine.
I send Shadow the name of the hotel and room number, then I spend hours trying to figure out a way to make this entire fucked-up situation work for all involved.
Chapter 18
Gigi
I stiffen in the bed, even though it’s the best night of sleep I’ve gotten in months. The last, of course, is the night I slept in the bed with Jameson in Dallas. It’s surprising, considering he spent the night on the small sofa in the room. He woke me after the sun had set and convinced me to eat something which I did, but fell asleep again shortly after.
“She’s sleeping,” Jameson says from the hallway.
“It’s noon, Hound. Is she sick?”
Shadow.
I should’ve known that they would arrive shortly after my knight in biker boots scooped me off of the sidewalk yesterday.
“Kinda,” Jameson responds.
I have no clue why they haven’t busted down the door and insisted I go pack my shitty apartment. Dad wouldn’t let Jameson block the door, so I know he must’ve bowed out of my latest ‘rescue.’
“The fuck does kinda mean, Hound?” Shadow’s voice is filled with irritation and only tinted with anger.
You’d think they’d get tired of chasing me all over the damn place.
“You need to get her up so she can go home.”
Kid.
Those two always travel together.
“She has a choice to make.” I stiffen as worry settles into my bones.
Is Jameson just going to put my business out there with these two?
“Kincaid expects her to come back to New Mexico.”
“I’ll let her know.”
I smile, the concern I was feeling that Jameson was here to drag me back fading away.
I flip the covers back, stretching my back, arms high over my head. The ding of a cell phone notification draws my attention. I don’t have a phone right now. Paying for the minutes after I left a couple of months ago seemed like a waste of time, so I didn’t buy new minutes when the original ones ran out.
The voices go quiet in the hallway, and I wonder if Shadow and Kid have dragged Jameson away to beat his ass behind the hotel. I can’t concentrate on that for very long because I know when my stomach grumbles that the nausea is only a few moments behind. I consider the crackers and room temp ginger ale Jameson went out and grabbed last night.
Even though I know it’s a waste because I’ll just get sick again, I sit, legs tucked under me on the bed and nibble the crackers, washing it down with the smallest sips of ginger ale I can handle.
When twenty minutes go by without Jameson returning to the room, I turn on the TV and flip through not finding anything I’m interested in. I never watch TV, especially since getting pregnant. There’s one in the backroom of the diner, but when I’m not working, I’ve been sleeping.
I stare at an episode explaining how baseballs are made, but I’m not really watching it. I nap on the couch and eventually crawl back into the bed. Benny is going to be pissed. Kori took over my shift yesterday, but I was supposed to be at work over an hour ago. I’m certain my stuff will be in the dumpster, and another girl will already be living in my space by the end of the day. Too tired, I can’t manage to even care. These shitty waitressing jobs are a dime a dozen, and honestly, Kori is so fucked-up, moving on soon was in my plans anyway.
The ringing of Jameson’s phone wakes me just after two. I have no intention of getting in his business, but when it silences and rings again, I pick it up.
IZZY CALLING flashes on the screen.
“Hello?” I say after the call connects.
“Who is this?” the caller asks.
“I could be asking you the same damn thing,” I mutter.
I didn’t have grandiose plans about a charmed life lived in bliss with Jameson, but I also didn’t consider another woman being in his life.
The call disconnects without the woman saying another word.
I move to put the phone back on the bedside table, telling myself, pregnant or not, I have no say in anything he does. He didn’t insist we be together. Hell, he was adamant that there was no happily ever after where I’m concerned.
Anger builds, and irritation grows exponentially as I stare at his phone.
“Not your business,” I say out loud trying to convince myself.
Curiosity and the need for full disclosure win out just like I knew it would.
I swipe the front of the screen, surprised that a man like Jameson doesn’t have a lock code on his phone. Then I’m hit with the insidious thought that he left me here alone with the phone so I can discover things he doesn’t have the balls to just come out and say.
First, I see the text to Shadow giving him the address to this hotel and the room number. It may not say ‘come get her’ or anything like that, but the text is bad enough. I realize he’s on my dad’s side, loyal to the end even though he knows when we disclose the pregnancy that he may be fired, if not strangled.
The next text thread is with the woman who just called. Without remorse, I tap and pull up the thread. Picture after picture of a young girl, duck lips and all assault me.
I stare, disgusted at what I see. I’m young, but there is no way this girl is even out of high school. With majestic green eyes, surrounded by lush lashes, and so much dark hair it’s almost a curtain over one in many of the pictures, I can’t deny that she’s gorgeous. Even in tank tops with puckered lips, there’s an innocence about her that I can’t see Jameson being attracted to, but the proof is in the evidence. He’s saved every one of the pictures she’s sent in a folder title MY HEART.
That stings.
The texts are cryptic, not really saying anything specific about meeting or hooking up, but the I LOVE YOU staring at me right in my face is hard to stomach. It’s not only said once but comes at the conclusion of every texted conversation that they’ve had.
Jealousy, other than directed at my perfect twin, isn’t an emotion I’m very familiar with, but it rumbles in my stomach until nausea hits me in the chest. Unable to ignore it, I’m off the bed and over the toilet a second later. The small meal of crackers and ginger ale rebel in my body and I get sick.
Trying to convince myself that it’s the morning sickness I’ve had for the last couple of weeks, I rinse my mouth out and stare at my face in the mirror. Rosy cheeks and that dull look in my eyes I hate so much stare back at me.
For the first time since Jameson practically abducted me in front of the clinic yesterday, I doubt my decision to let him drive me away from that place. Walking away from him right now would be so much easier if the deal was done, and I only had myself to worry about.
Sure that I’m not going to get sick again, I crawl back in bed and ignore his cell phone on the floor.
I don’t know how long it’s been since I laid down, but it feels like hours I’ve been trying to fight the tears that want to fall.
“Still sleeping?” he says with a chuckle as he closes us in the room.
The walls feel like they’re closing in all around me. I sit up, needing to run, but knowing I have to face him.
His brow crinkles when he reaches down and picks up his phone.
“Izzy called,” I say with a nonchalance I don’t feel.
“I’ll call her back later,” he replies and places the phone back on the nightstand.
“She didn’t seem very happy that another woman was answering the phone.”
I stare into his green eyes, challenging him and waiting for a reaction of some sort.
The cocked eyebrow isn’t exactly what I expect.
“You answered my phone?”
I shrug. “It was ringing. Ringing phones get answered.”
“I see.”
I have no idea why he's so aloof and cryptic but he sure as fuck isn’t giving anything away. The red-hot anger I felt earlier bubbles from just under my skin. It was as far as I could push it down while waiting for him to return so he could give me the answers I need before I leave him and this fucking city far behind.
“She seems a little young.” I shoot for an easy, conversational tone, but my bitterness is hard to hide. “What is she fifteen? Sixteen?”
“Seventeen,” he corrects with his stance just a hair wider and arms crossed over his chest.
“She let you fuck her hard?” He sneers. “Up against the wall? Does she enjoy your cock? Your piercings?”
“Georgia,” he warns.
“You think I would keep this fucking baby around you worrying what you’d do to her since you like them so fucking young? You’ve lost your mind.”
I expect his anger, but what I don’t expect is his hand around my throat.
Chapter 19
Hound
“That’s my daughter you’re talking about you filthy-mouthed bitch!”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t try to pull away.
The anger and jealousy fade away, and when she whimpers, I can see the arousal in her eyes. She gets off on the brute force, the power I have over her. My cock thickens, going from half-mast at her jealousy to full-on steel in my jeans.
“Jesus, you make me insane,” I hiss, letting her go to fall back on the mattress.
“Daughter?” she asks as her hand comes up to the base of her throat. She doesn’t touch it in inspection from injury but caresses it almost like she’s missing the clamp of my fingers. “You’re only thirty-four.”
“Yeah,” I say and sit down on the couch. “I didn’t like condoms at sixteen any more than I like those fuckers now.”
I don’t miss the way her hands flow over her lower belly.
Her eyes fire with need, and I shake my head at her.
“No, Gigi.” It’s what my mouth says, but my eyes stay pinned to her when she shoves down the satin covering her pussy. A second later her tank top hits the plush carpet at her feet.
“No?”
She prowls, graceful like a panther across the room with the same elegance and sure moves I’ve watched her use on stage. This woman knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly how she needs to move to entice a man. It’s early, and the pregnancy isn’t showing at all, but there’s a fullness in her perky tits that wasn’t there months ago.
I swallow, eyes sweeping from her toes all the way up to her messy hair.
Her shift in mood, going from disgusting insults about Izzy, saying things I’d kill any man who even considers doing to my daughter, to the sex kitten now standing directly in front of me, is concerning.
