The Baby Race

by Tara Wylde

  A large dark town car glides across the parking lot, stopping in front of me. For a half second, I think Jeremy sent the car, only to remember that he doesn’t know that I’ve been released, thanks to the state’s prison overcrowding situation.

  The door closest to me swings open and a voice drifts out of the interior. “Get in.”

  Recognizing the voice and knowing better than to argue, I accept the invitation and slide into the car.

  Anton Weaver, head of Denver’s biggest organized crime family, stares at me with placid brown eyes.

  “Evan, you’re looking fit,” he says in his booming voice. “How does it feel to be a free man?”

  “Good.” I watch him warily.

  It seems like a lifetime ago since I last saw Anton. It was before my trial, probably by a few months. Back then we were just starting to work together, tentatively exploring some options to make Caldwell Industries a little more lucrative – for both of us.

  Even though I haven’t seen Anton since I became a guest of the state, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s played a huge role in making my time in prison safe. He has the money and connections to make things, both good and bad, happen.

  While I don’t know all that Anton has done for me, I know he was the one who found Sheila and made sure she and I enjoyed plenty of quality time together. I also suspect that he pulled some strings and made sure I was considered for early release.

  Appearance wise, Anton is the last person anyone would suspect of heading up an organized crime family. He’s neither sleek, fit, nor reptilian. With his love for worn jeans and faded T-shirts and the thick salt and pepper beard that hangs nearly to his chest, I’ve always thought he looks like a woodshop teacher.

  He’s also a lot like a grizzly bear. Big and kind of—I guess the best word for it is cuddly—looking. He moves slowly and generally appears to be placid, but irritate him and you quickly learn that the placidness is nothing more than an act. Anton Weaver is not a man to be taken advantage of.

  “What do you want, Anton?”

  He blinks at me. “I wanted to make sure that you didn’t have to hitchhike home.”

  “I would have gotten a ride.”

  Anton shrugs. “I also wanted to find out what you intend to do about the fact that your brother is getting married—” He looks at his watch. “I believe the ceremony is starting in just a couple of minutes.”

  This surprises me. “Jeremy, getting married? Since when?”

  “Since he hooked up with a pretty redheaded florist.” Anton pins me with a dark stare. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but in order for the plans you and I made back before you got drunk and behaved foolishly, to work, you need to be running Caldwell Industries.”

  My stomach clenches and my palms start sweating as I read the direction of his thoughts. “Yes.”

  “And if it turns out that your brother’s new wife gets pregnant and they have a baby before you do, controlling interest of the business goes to him.”

  “Yes,” I grind out with gritted teeth.

  “And all the plans we’ve made, plans I’ve had to put on hold since your arrest, will go down the toilet.”

  “Yes.”

  Anton props his elbows on his knees and leans closer to me. The gesture looks companionable but is actually orchestrated so I can get a good look at the threats burning in his dark eyes. Staring into them, I know that if I don’t do something to regain Caldwell Industries, my life is going to take a very unpleasant turn and that there’s nothing I’ll be able to do about it.

  “Then I suggest,” Anton says, his tone as mild as ever, “that you do something to fix this situation and that you do it quickly. Oh, and you should talk to that pretty nurse you’re screwing. She’s one of the wedding guests, which I found to be a very interesting detail.”

  28

  Jeremy

  I’m marrying the most beautiful woman in the world. That’s the only thing I can think of as I stand in front of the church and repeat the words the minister tells me to say, even though I hardly hear them. The sight of Caitlin standing beside me, dressed up in fancy clothes and beautiful makeup, is the only thing I can concentrate on.

  I’m making her nervous. Her hands are sweating and even though, unlike me, she’s actually paying attention to what the minister is saying, she keeps darting nervous little glances my way and licking her lips.

  “The rings please,” the minister booms. My best man steps forward and hands the ring to me. It’s a simple platinum band with an enormous solitary diamond. Simple and classy, like Caitlin, and easy to clean since she’s always up to her elbows in potting soil. I take Caitlin’s trembling hand and slide the ring past her knuckles.

  I love her.

  The realization hits as unexpectedly and with as much force as a runaway Mack truck into a concrete wall. Somehow, someway, she’s managed to blast through the walls I built around my heart – and made herself the one thing I can’t live without.

  A declaration of love burns the tip of my tongue, but despite my intense need to give voice to my emotions, to let her know how important she is to me, I swallow the words and fight to keep the love I feel from pouring out. I’m not ready just yet. I need more time to explore them and determine the best way to proceed. Until then, it’s best to keep her in the dark, to let her go on thinking this thing between us is nothing more than a fling.

  Even so, I look at her and my heart constricts. I don’t know how she managed to push past all the barriers I erected around my heart and quite frankly, I don’t care. The only thing that matters is making her understand how important she is to me. I just need to figure out how.

  Once I accomplish that, I’ll be able to convince her to spend the rest of her life with me. All I have to do is figure out just the right words to say to her. And the best time.

  I’m so consumed by the emotions swirling through me and pondering the best way to handle them, I don’t notice the figure standing in the vestibule, or the reaction the wedding guests have as he makes his way down the aisle.

  The first inclination I have that something’s wrong is when slow, deliberate clapping reaches my ears.

  “Well, it looks like my invitation to this little party got lost in the mail. Too bad, ‘cause I do love a good party, but at least it seems l made it here for the final act.”

  The voice, which sounds just like my own, sends a fission of nervous energy racing down my spine. I turn away from the altar, instinctively angling my body so that Caitlin is behind me.

  My eyes clash with a pair of familiar Caribbean-blue ones. I surge with anger that my brother has the nerve to ruin the most perfect day of my life. My tongue spits with barely repressed anger.

  “Hello, Evan. Seems the rumors are true. They did set you loose.”

  29

  Jeremy

  Evan cocks his head to the side, looking over my shoulder at Caitlin. A cold smile twists his lips.

  “Congratulations,” he says in the cocky tone I’ve hated since I was a child. “Welcome to the family. And speaking of family, dear, are you in the family way? Or is this marriage really a product of true love?”

  Anger burns inside my chest. There was a small part of me that hoped that his time in prison had changed Evan, taught him a little humility and humanity, done something to make him want to improve his life. Looking at him now, I can see I wasted my energy.

  Evan’s the same cold, egotistical bastard he always was. The only thing that seems different is that he is either no longer able to or wants to hide his true nature behind a thin veneer of civility.

  His blue eyes clash with mine and I brace myself, preparing to engage in the same battle we’ve been locked in since we were young boys. The problem is that just like then, I have no idea what the fight is about. It’s like Evan was born hating me and simply decided at a young age to do everything in his power to make my life a living hell.

  Evan takes two steps forward, coming close enough to touch me. Storm clo
uds rage in his eyes. For a second I think he’s going to take a swing and try to predict when the blow will come and from what direction. But, instead of trying to land a punch, Evan sidesteps me so that he’s face to face with Caitlin.

  My hands clench at my side. Evan won’t harm her physically, at least not here, not now, but I can’t help but remember how the sweet girl he dated briefly in high school, Kimberly Wallace, came to school one morning with a shiner. The day after she’d been out on a date with Evan. She never told anyone how she got hurt, but I’ve always wondered.

  I step in close to my wife and loop a protective arm around her waist, partly to ensure that we present a united front and partly so I can pull her away from Evan if I have to.

  His eyes follow the gesture and a muscle on the side of his jaw jumps.

  He turns his attention to Caitlin, studying her. “My, my, my,” he breathes out. “You managed to land yourself a real looker, didn’t you? Of course, you and I both know that with our looks, women have always found us irresistible. Now that you’re president of Caldwell Industries and one of the richest men in the world, that just makes them throw themselves at you, doesn’t it?”

  Evan crosses his arms over his chest and rocks back onto his heels, his expression growing both pensive and restless.

  “Brother, I don’t know how you were able to choose just one, the one you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. When I was in your shoes, I know I found it was rather like living in a giant candy box, and each treat tasted better than the last. Of course you were always more decisive than me, weren’t you?“

  He leans closer to Caitlin and lowers his voice. Not because he doesn’t want to be heard, but because he wants his next words to really sink in. “And you, someone mentioned that you’re a florist, that you own your own shop. I can’t imagine that’s easy, but I bet the fact that you’re marrying the richest man in the state will make all those troubles go away. Some people will tell you that money doesn’t buy happiness, but I think that both you and I know that it does wonders for paving the way. Don’t you agree?”

  Caitlin rolls her eyes up toward me. I give her a reassuring squeeze. I’ve seen Evan do this spiel before and, in those cases, it’s been effective.

  Evan’s attempting to drive a wedge between us. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve watched him do this kind of thing in the past. There was a time when I thought his lack of subtlety as he pitted two people against one another was crazy, but now I know better. It is almost like his bluntness adds credibility to his words.

  But just because something’s been effective in the past, it doesn’t mean the same approach will work each and every time. I’m determined that this will be one of Evan’s failures. Not only do Caitlin and I have a clear contract that states what will and won’t happen while we’re married, as well as a long list of consequences if we slip up, we both went into this marriage knowing what we want … need from one another.

  The only complication is that I went and fell in love with her. I’m not sure how either one of us is going to handle that issue, though I’m hoping for the best.

  Hate and satisfaction, and something else, something that looks just a little bit like desperation, twine together in Evan’s eyes as he casts one last glance my way before turning his attention to our wedding guests.

  My intestines twist themselves into nervous knots. I know that Caitlin and I can handle anything he tries to throw our way, but I’m not as confident about our guests. Evan’s clever. There’s no doubt in my mind that if he wants to, he can find the perfect combination of words that will pit Caitlin’s and my friends against one another.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” Evan calls out. He throws his arms wide, as if he’s a circus announcer calling the next act to the center stage. “You’ll be pleased to know that Jeremy and … his new florist bride aren’t the only happy couple here today. I want to take this moment to introduce you to my future bride, Sheila. Baby doll, why don’t you come on up so all these nice people can get a good look at you?”

  No one stirs.

  “Sheila.” Now there’s an edge to Evan’s voice. He hates defiance of any kind. “Now, baby doll.”

  Another long moment passes before a lone woman near the middle of the church slowly stands up. Caitlin gasps.

  It takes me only a second to put a memory to the face. This was the woman who caught Caitlin and me right after we’d made love in a maintenance closet. When she saw me, she behaved like a scared rabbit. If she hadn’t looked into my eyes, she probably thought I was Evan, and since I was there with Caitlin, didn’t have a clue how to respond. A panicked retreat probably seemed like her only option.

  “There’s my girl,” Evan purrs, his eyes holding her gaze. “Sheila, why don’t you get your cute ass up here so we can have a few words with the preacher man?”

  Looking like she’d rather accept an invitation to her own funeral, Sheila slowly makes her way to the altar. Evan grabs her hand, holding it so tightly her bones seem to grind together. She winces but doesn’t whisper a word of complaint.

  “Sheila was one of the nurses at the prison. I took one look at her and knew I wanted her for my very own. So, now that I’m a free man, I figure we might as well get hitched. Didn’t know that she was a friend of yours. You’ll have to tell me about the connection someday.” Using his grip on her hand, he pulls Sheila in close to him as he turns to the minister. “So what do you say? Want to help us with our vows and turn this into a double wedding?”

  Confused, the minister looks at all of us, taking in our tension. “Well,” he finally says, drawing out the word. “I certainly wouldn’t mind, if that’s what you want.” His gaze falls on Sheila as he says this last bit. She lowers her head and studies the toes of her shoes. “Do you have a license?”

  Evan’s brows slide upwards. “A what?”

  “A marriage license? Without it, I can’t declare you husband and wife.”

  Evan’s jaw clenches as he absorbs this news. “No, we don’t have one of those.”

  “They’re not hard to obtain. Once you do, let me know and I’ll happily conduct the ceremony.”

  “All right. I’ll do that. Come on, baby doll, it looks like we’ve got some paperwork to complete.” Evan steps up close to me, dragging Sheila with him. “Just so you know, brother. I don’t know about you and your pretty little bride, but Sheila and I have been going at it for months. The odds are good that she’s already pregnant, and even if she’s not, she will be before long. And you can rest assured, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure my child is born before yours. Do you understand me?”

  Icy fear arrows through me. Evan has always been cruel and calculating, but looking into his eyes now, I can clearly see the desperation as well as just a hint of madness. There’s no doubt in my mind that he means every single word he says.

  But that’s not my biggest problem.

  My biggest problem is what I’m going to do about it.

  30

  Caitlin

  The rumble of the apartment building elevator proceeds the click of the front door opening and closing behind Jeremy.

  Toenails rattle against the hardwood floor as Kahn, the massive dog we officially adopted just before our wedding ceremony, hurries to greet him.

  “And how’s my good boy today?” I hear Jeremy ask the dog. In my mind’s eye I picture him bending low, engaging the massive dog the vet estimates to be about a year and a half old in a mild wrestling match, as is their custom every time Jeremy comes home. It is part of the evening’s natural patter now. Just the way it goes.

  It’s strange. We’ve only been married three weeks, but already Jeremy and I have settled into an easy routine. Each morning we get up, shower together, and grab a quick breakfast before he heads out to Caldwell Industries and I go to my florist shop. I get home—it still seems strange to think of his apartment as my home—about a half hour before he does and start dinner. We spend the rest of the evening talking, wat
ching television, and playing with Sasha and Kahn. It’s simple and wonderful. I love it.

  Now I’m about to throw a huge monkey wrench into everything.

  Nerves dancing, I make my way from the bedroom to the living room. Sure enough, Kahn and Jeremy are on the floor, each trying to get the other in a headlock – or a wet mouth lock, in Kahn’s case – neither caring that Jeremy’s expensive suit is now wrinkled and covered in dog hair. The dry cleaners are going to have a fit when they get the next batch.

  Sasha sits on the couch, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth, an annoyed expression on her scarred face. Since Kahn’s come to live with us, she’s been acting put out. I believed her until the other day, when I came home and found her cuddled up beside him on his bed. She might not be thrilled about having to share her home and Jeremy, but she’s learning to adapt.

  Sensing my presence, Jeremy looks up, his gaze capturing mine.

  “Hey, you.” His warm voice never fails to make my heart melt just a little bit.

  “Hey, yourself. Anything exciting happen to you today?” The question is another part of our little routine.

  Some of the light in Jeremy’s eyes fades and his mouth flattens. He ruffles Kahn’s ears, causing the dog to happily kick out with both his hind feet, and slowly climbs to his feet. “I’ve had better days.”

  “Uh oh. That sounds ominous.” I walk to the sideboard and pull down a shot glass and Jeremy’s favorite whiskey bottle. “One finger or two?”

  “Two. It was definitely a two-finger kind of day.”

  I finish pouring and hand the shot glass to him. “What happened?”

  “Evan came into the office.”

  That’s nothing new. Since he was released, Evan has been at Caldwell Industries every single day. Making sure that everyone knows he’s back and that he’s determined to be part of the operation again. When I spoke to my Aunt Janet the other day, she told me that even though Evan hasn’t actually done anything, he has had the entire place in an uproar, that he seems bent on going to one department after another and stirring the pot. She told me that Jeremy was spending more time soothing ruffled feathers than getting any actual work done.