by Amy Faye
“Where are you going,” he cried after me. “You left your son.”
But I didn’t slow down, and he didn’t slow down either, and after a hundred paces I realized something that chilled me to my core. He was catching up with me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Behind me, there was the sound of a grunt, low and loud. ‘Oof.’
I turned. There was a tangle of limbs on the ground. I didn’t stop running to see what was happening, but I could make a guess. Dave was on the track team in high school, and had a mean streak in him a mile wide. I could only imagine what was going to happen next, because I wasn’t going to stop until I’d turned back and gotten my son.
Nineteen
Dave
It was harder to stop thrashing than I thought. I could feel the desire to keep hitting, to hammer on this guy’s skull until it was just mush.
He looks up at me. I don’t recognize him, but I recognize the neighborhood as well as anywhere else in this town. It’s not big enough to have escaped me my whole life.
“Where’s the kid?”
He looks up at me with wild eyes and blood streaming down his nose. I don’t think I broke it, because it’s not swelling that bad yet, but he definitely broke a blood vessel. Or perhaps I did, depending on your perspective. As far as I’m concerned, the minute that Laura decided she was scared and alone, he did it to himself.
The guy on the ground looked confused for a minute. “What? The kid? Who the fuck…”
I hit him again. “The kid. The one you or your buddies took.”
“Okay, I’ll talk,” he said.
I hit him again. “Don’t tell me you’re going to talk. Get talking.”
“Fuck, the red house.”
I look over, drag the guy up by his collar and point. “That house?”
“Yeah. Please, just stop hitting me.”
“You hurt that boy, and you’re going to find out who you messed with. Are we clear?”
He looks like he just pissed himself. I let the guy drop onto the ground. He doesn’t make a move to follow me, so I don’t make this life any harder than it needs to be.
I move towards the house. Check behind me. He still hasn’t moved. I should’ve checked him for a weapon, but the fact is that I didn’t think about it. There was a lot going on at the time. These guys didn’t think about much, either, though. So on the whole, I didn’t get nearly as screwed up as it could have.
The door’s still sitting open. There’s a kid standing in it, maybe eighteen. Maybe not. I guess he saw what happened to his friend because he bolts immediately out of the door, deeper into the house. I let him go.
“Charlie?”
“Mr. Collins?”
That’s his voice, for sure.
“Come on out here. Your mom’s worried about you.”
There’s a minute where I’m waiting for something to happen. The number one thing that I’m expecting, hopefully, is for him to come out of the room. When he doesn’t, I’m frustrated, but not surprised.
After all, the whole plan probably relied on his not being able to get out. Which means that it was never going to be ‘fine’ without me. I curse silently to myself and step into the house further.
Nobody in the front room. It stinks of light beer; it’s a distinctly American smell, and not one that I’m terribly familiar with. Even less after all this time out of the country.
“Anyone who doesn’t want to get their ass kicked should leave now,” I call in.
I can’t help laughing when an eight year old kid comes out with his hands up and runs past. It’s a short, barking thing. I don’t watch him beyond the doorstep.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I call in. “Just let the boy go, and we all go home.”
“Fuck you,” someone shouts out. It’s from further in, I know that much.
I check my pocket. There’s a knife there. A knife I’m hoping not to use. I pull it out of the leather sheath regardless, and press the blade edge-side in against my leg. My arm stays pinned to my side.
“Alright, if that’s how we’re going to play it, I’m coming in.”
There’s a floorboard underneath my foot that creaks. Damn Michigan raised floors. If this was just laid down on foundation, it would be fine, but they just have to have their basements. I cringe and wait for something to change. Nothing does. They’re in there and apparently they’re worried enough about me that they intend to stay.
I have a system. It’s a simple one, but if you want to clear a building, you can’t go without. You won’t be able to be certain that it’s complete. It’s impossible to. In my case, it’s right to left. Two doors on the right, two doors on the left.
The closer door on the right eases open. It doesn’t make a sound until it bumps into the bathroom sink. The room is empty. If someone wanted to hide in here, I don’t think they could. There’s no cabinet below the sink, the shower curtain is partway clear and pulled back, and the sink with it’s pedestal stand takes up the close corner. No way.
The far room on the right is a bedroom. A thousand places someone could hide if they were clever. I take the whole thing in with a glance and then I close the door and move on to the next room. If I keep an eye out for door movement, then I’ll be able to react quickly.
I opened the far left door. Right to left. There was an instant where I had to put my full attention on the room. There’s nobody immediately visible in here, either. A noise from the front door snapped my attention in that direction. A petite figure, visible through the front glass. Laura.
I checked the door behind me again. Still closed. There was just one left. I took a breath and flattened my arm against my side and readied myself for whatever the trouble was, and then turned the knob and threw the door open. Which, as it happened, was exactly what they’d been waiting for.
Twenty
Laura
When I stepped through the door, my first thought was that I needed to get Charlie, get out, and figure out what to do from there, maybe, as a distant third step. Seeing a large man framed by the textured glass, in the middle of the hall, meant that either I was doomed to fail, or that someone else was already working on it.
Against my better judgment, I stepped into the room. My courage was rewarded, and at the same time, punished. Dave was there. The hand further from me was cocked back like he was holding it against his hip. The hand closer to me reached for the door handle. Between them, his white shirt had a bright red stain.
Was he hurt? Had he gotten himself hurt? I swallowed hard. I don’t know what I would do with myself if he got himself seriously hurt while he was looking out for me, and my son.
He looked over at me. His expression was serious. And then he pushed the door open, and lunged inside. I could hear a scuffle, but I couldn’t see it. So I did what I could in the situation: I grabbed a beer bottle.
It felt heavy and solid in my hand, and then I hefted it high over my head and moved, ever so slowly, towards the door.
By the time I made it to the hallway, only a few short seconds had passed, but the room was already quiet. I hefted my bottle higher and stepped into the doorway, ready for whatever was going to come at me.
At least, I thought I was. But somehow, I wasn’t expecting what I found.
Dave was on the ground. He had the younger of the two men with his arm twisted into a wicked, painful-looking hold. What surprised me was the third person. I recognized him, a little bit. He was younger still than the guy who still tried to wriggle out from under Dave’s knee.
He was an honor student, as far as I knew, and he did plenty of volunteering at the elementary school. Plenty of volunteering everywhere, as far as I can tell. He had a wild terror in his eyes and a long knife in his hands. He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to do with it, except that he wanted it vaguely near Charlie. Near enough to be menacing, even if I didn’t think he would actually do anything.
“Let him go,” Dave said. He twisted the kid’s arm and he
let out a yelp of pain. “Or I’ll break it.”
“Y-you can’t afford that,” the kid said. He looked like a horse about to bolt, more than someone about to commit a murder, but people get weird when they’re panicking. They make bad decisions. “You’d lose all your leverage.”
“No,” Dave said gruffly. He held his knife in his hand, the blade pulled back against his own forearm where it was out of the way, in his free hand. “I really wouldn’t.”
The youngest’s eyes widened even more, if that were even possible. “Just… just let him go, okay? Drop the knife and let my brother go!”
“You first,” Dave said. His eyes narrowed.
“I can’t,” the kid answered.
I realized with a sick feeling in my gut that we weren’t going to get anywhere. That this was just going to get worse.
“Give me the knife,” I said softly. “I’ll go, and I’ll take him with me. He’s not going to hurt anyone, if you just give me the knife, okay?”
Tears streaked Charlie’s cheeks, but he was silent. He was so brave. I could feel my own eyes burning, but I had to be strong for him. For everyone. To make sure we all got out of this.
The boy turned to me with wide eyes and seemed to register that I was there for the first time.
“You,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Or what?”
“My brothers, they said…”
“Forget what they said,” Dave growled. “Give her the knife, if you don’t want to give it to me. Count of three. You give up the knife and I give up your brother. That sound fair?”
The kid looked from me to his brother and to Dave, and back. The boy on the floor squirmed and moaned. The kid with his knife on Charlie let his hand slip at the same time that he said “Garrett, are you okay?”
Dave cut in before Garrett could answer. “One.”
I watched the whole thing in slow motion, terrified that something was going to go horribly wrong. I held my hand out, the beer bottle still brandished.
“Two.”
The kid looked from his brother to me. His eyes were wide with panic, but he saw a way out of this and he was going to take it.
“Three.”
The blade was heavy in my hand as he put it there, handle first. He moved slowly, probably afraid that he was going to alarm Dave. I worried the same thing.
Something in the corner of my vision moved, and then a voice was low and right by my ear. “Let’s get out of here.”
I started moving first. I think he wanted to be behind me. The last one out. I didn’t waste any time questioning him. This wasn’t the time for questions.
It wasn’t until I was in the car, the doors locked and the engine turned over, that I finally spoke as I slipped it from park into reverse.
“Are you okay, baby?”
“Mom?”
“Tell me, are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he said. “But can we stop by the house before we do anything?”
I looked in the mirror and he silently pleaded with me not to talk about why. I let out a low breath and put it into drive. “Dave? Talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” he said. Like he meant it. “A little winded, is all.”
“Whose blood is that all over your shirt?”
“Blood?” He looked down and seemed to notice it for the first time. “I guess it’s mine. Maybe I ripped a stitch running all this way.”
“You ran all the way here?”
“It was a pretty good distance,” he said. Then he added, “Just out of the hospital, I mean.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He had a point. I don’t usually like to admit it, but this time, I couldn’t deny it. And there was something else that I was being an idiot about, too.
“There’s something I need to tell you. I don’t want you to get mad, but I understand if you do.”
“Okay,” Dave said. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. “I’m still listening.”
“Do you remember senior prom?”
“No,” he said. “Except that it was a bad time.”
“I imagine that you would feel that way,” I said. “You didn’t want to talk about what happened, but you were upset when you came to me.”
“My girlfriend left me. Said she’d been sleeping with Tom.”
“You were a little sauced.”
“I remember that, kind of. Getting drunk, I mean.”
“And you were terribly vulnerable.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding,” I said softly. “And there’s something else.”
His face scrunched up. “You’re not serious.”
“I understand if you’re angry,” I said again. “But you didn’t want to talk about it, and by the time I found out, you had already left, and… I mean, you never came back, so…”
“All this time?” He let out a long breath. “I missed all this time?”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I know it’s not fair.”
“It’s not about fair. I can’t believe it.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you left and never came back.”
Dave’s hand reached across the center console and rested on my thigh. Just the feeling of him through all the layers of my fabric set my nerves on edge.
“I’m not going to leave,” he said. His voice was hard, but it still didn’t manage to hide the shakiness in it. “I’m not going to leave ever again, if you’ll have me.”
I put my hand on his and his thumb traced across the back of my palm, and for a moment I felt something welling up in my chest. I eased the car onto our street, before I took Dave back to the hospital.
Then, out of the silence, Charlie spoke up. “What are you guys talking about?”
Bad Boy’s Baby
Contemporary Redemption Romance
Amy Faye
Published by Heartthrob Publishing
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Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’re about to read…
I pounded my beer until I was a little buzzed. It was a nice bar, surprisingly, but I didn't want to be there anymore. “You wanna come back to my place?” I asked. Going home alone sounded like a lousy idea, and I missed the way his hands felt. “I want you to come back to my place with me,” I added. The look on his face told me he wanted to say no, and I just couldn't have that.
He looked at me for a good long while, then nodded. “Alright. Let's go.” We left the bar.
As soon as we got into my house, his mouth was on mine. Sudden unexpected emotions forced themselves upon me as I realized this felt right. Lust washed over me, but maybe that was just because of how drunk I was.
Brant broke the kiss and tipped my head to the side, revealing my neck. His lips left quick kisses on it before he bit down just hard enough to raise goosebumps on my skin.
“Ahh,” I moaned, gripping his suit. He sunk his teeth into me again, then pulled me over to the couch. He sat down and draped his arms over the back. It was clear what he wanted.
I thought for a second, then took a deep breath and bent down. My black dress hiked up over my thighs. Brant leaned back against the couch, smiling in anticipation.
Closing his eyes, he looked innocent for just a moment, but I knew that something much less innocent was hidden in those pants. I slid my hand up his thigh, gripping his muscles and enjoying how hard they were. I wanted him to feel just how much I wanted him in every movement I made.
Taking the clasp of his buckle, I pulled it loose and slid the thick leather out from under him. My dainty hands pulled at Brant's pants, unbuttoning the clasp and pulling down the zipper. Brant gave a pleased sigh, running his hands through my hair.
His touch sent a shiver down my spine as I prepared to take him into my mouth for the first time in 4 years. Anticipation was building up within me.
Tossing back my hair, I grabbed his pants. He lifted himself so that I could with one smooth movement pull them down to his ankles, along with his boxer briefs. As soon as I saw his glorious cock, my eyes widened and I held my breath.
That was the cock I had been missing for so long. God, it looked delicious. It was so beautiful and so big, and it was already half hard and ready for me to take it. It twitched while I looked at it.
Licking my lips, I took his penis in my hand and gripped it tight. Merely holding his unbelievable cock in my hand forced a moan from my lips, a shiver down my spine. The muscles in my lower abdomen began to tickle and my mound was hot and soaking wet.
In a word, I was fucking horny.
My eyes flicked up at him, and I caught him watching me with a smirk on his face. His hand left my hair so that his arm could drape over the couch again, allowing me to take complete control over his prick.
“I'm going to suck your cock until you cum down my throat,” I told him, flashing him a grin. I was acting like a slut all of a sudden, and it felt damn good. Brant smiled back down at me, his rebellious jaw set, then leaned his head back and waited for me to get started.
His cock was so smooth, and it twitched in my hand. Moving it up and down, I allowed his foreskin to slide along with my hand. He shifted in his seat, his stomach muscles tensing then relaxing.
After only a few seconds, precum began to leak from his prick. I was absolutely salivating while I watched it. I wanted to taste it so bad, so I leaned forward while pushing my hair over my shoulder to get it out of the way.
With my tongue held out as if I were about to taste an ice cream, I pressed my wet muscle against his velvety skin and tasted his salty precum.
“Ah,” he sighed, his fingers scratched against the couch.
I took that as a good sign. Opening my mouth as wide as possible, I placed it over his cock. Only taking the tip of his prick into my mouth at first, I sucked hard on it and teased him. He sucked in a hot breath and held it as I played with him.
