Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series

by Gemini Jensen

  My stomach churns, and I drop the paper, barely making it to the toilet in time. Everything in my stomach comes up now, and I barely notice Mom following in behind me.

  “You know, I would be sick too. You’ve put both of us in danger, and not only that, you managed to get your photo out there in a fairly well-known newspaper. We’re too close to New Jersey for this! What were you thinking? Pack up your things whenever you get done being emotional. This was published months ago, and we’ve already extended our stay. It’s time for us to go.”

  Grabbing the counter beside me, I hold on for dear life as I attempt to stand successfully despite my knees knocking together over and over. With great effort, I make it to the sink and turn it on to wash my face before I rinse my mouth with the Listerine nearby. After I’ve finished, I stare into the mirror. My cool, gray eyes meet my mother’s of the same shade—just about the only thing we have in common.

  “We’re going to the west coast this time, Valley. We need to put as many miles between us and Dom as possible. You’ve done something incredibly foolish this time; even more foolish than the crap you pulled in Central Valley. I need you to have everything packed in two hours. I’m going to meet Jameson now. We felt this was too important not to discuss it in person.”

  Her gaze softens slightly as she gears up in preparation of another move. It’s always difficult and tiresome. We both understand exactly what it entails by now. Moving is equal to starting over from scratch, getting used to a new alias, getting settled somewhere else just to uproot yourself all over again on down the road.

  “Can I meet up with Uncle Jameson this time, too? I’ve not seen him in years and I’m an adult now. It might be good for me to hear firsthand whatever he has to say,” I point out as I dry off my hands.

  Mother purses her lips, and nods. “I’ll talk to him first and see what I can do. Throw everything together as quickly as possible just in case.” And with that, she kisses me on the forehead, eyes wincing as they flick to my reddened cheek. “I’m sorry I struck you. You might have done something that disappoints me, but I get why you did it. I was young once too. Thinking I could do what I wanted and get away with it. Knowing the cost but convinced I could sway the outcome.” Her lips quiver before transforming into a smile full of nostalgia. It vanishes almost immediately when she adds, “I love you, my Valley girl.” Tucking some errant hairs behind my ear, she then storms out of the room, all business.

  I do her bidding, packing up the things I wish to take along more swiftly than I ever have, but I’ve also had years of practice in the matter. Piling all the bags and boxes by the front door, I pull my phone out of my pocket to check my messages. Just as I do, it pings in alert.

  Mom: J says not a good idea. Maybe next time. Leaving in ten to meet up with him. Be ready in an hour. ILY.

  Me: K. Almost done. ILY2

  Pacing back and forth, my mind is spinning. Some unknown force is pushing me to react, to do something. Sitting here and waiting out the hour won’t be of any help; all it’s going to do is make me even more antsy. Besides that, I don’t want to run away this time. It’s a stupid notion, but I’m desperate to stay close to Gray. At least here, he knows where I am and how to get in touch with me.

  He told me I didn’t have to wait for him, but for me, there’s no other choice. In all honesty, there’s only ever been one option, and that’s the one that will make me the happiest and most satisfied in my life.

  I may already be tired of waiting around for him, but it’s not in the move-on type of way. It’s the impatient, fed-up, ready-to-make-things-progress-by-any-means-necessary type of way.

  And that same force of nature that’s telling me to act, is also pushing much harder than ever before, telling me Mom has a lot more to hide from me than she’s letting on.

  I twirl my hair into a quick bun and slip on something comfortable. Grabbing my purse, keys, and cellphone, I slide out the front of the apartment and lock up. My body is on auto-pilot but I’m still in shock over what I’m doing.

  Passing a lady in the hallway, my neighbor from 3C, I can feel her eyes on me. It almost seems the vibe I’m giving off is a prowler one; or maybe she’s just good at reading people and can tell I’m up to no good and trying to be stealthy. I give her a weak smile, rolling my shoulders back a little like I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be and continue on.

  The first thing I do as I walk toward my mother’s building is scan the parking lot for her car. I then scan the lot for my car’s location. The car was a late gift for my birthday and Christmas combo, and I’ve only had it about a month.

  My anxiety lightens upon realizing, once I make it to my own car, I’ll have the perfect vantage point to both her car and her apartment. It makes more sense to already be waiting in my car when she comes outside, or else I might lose her, then my plan will come to an end before it even begins.

  Power-walking across the pavement toward my car, I slide inside, throw my purse and cell into the seat beside me, and just watch. After a few minutes, my phone pings from where it lays in the passenger seat and I reach over to pick it up.

  Mom: Leaving now. See you soon. I guess you’ll have to follow me since we have two vehicles now.

  Me: K

  Just as I hit send, her blonde head emerges from the apartment, her eyes scanning her surroundings carefully before walking out into the hallway completely. She carries some of her bags down with her, despite just going to a meeting, but then again, she’s always been a multitasker. Like me, she knows how to make moving easier in the long run.

  Long, slender legs carry her across the parking lot like a Gazelle on the run. She gets into the Rav4 and immediately cranks it. Her brake lights illuminate as she backs out then speeds away. It takes all my focus to maneuver out of the parking lot; not to hit any of the kids running around whose parents have no sense whatsoever and aren’t watching them and still pay attention to which direction she’s heading.

  I shake my head at the two parents standing outside their car, apparently having locked the keys inside, flat out bickering and screaming at each other. Their two children are darting around in circles; the little girl screaming at the top of her lungs as her brother pinches her. Still, the parents are oblivious.

  “When I’m a mom, I’m not going to be so careless,” I mumble to myself as I merge into traffic, making every attempt to keep the Rav4 in my line of sight.

  My chest tightens in panic when I lose it for a few moments, but then my eyes land on it again just as it turns right. Foot pressing the accelerator closer to the floor, I turn the corner just in time to see her turning another.

  It takes nearly five minutes of near-misses on my part, before she finally pulls into a busy parking lot, eases into one of the spaces, and turns off her car. Completely lucking out on the timing, I pull in just as she’s walking toward the entrance of one of the fancier restaurants in this district. I seize the opportunity and park against the back fence, as far away from her car as possible.

  Chapter Nineteen

  MY EYES MAP out the area, hastily highlighting the route warranting the most coverage on the way to the door. I stick to walking beside trucks, vans, and SUVs so that I’m harder to see. If the universe throws me some unlucky curveball, like Mom glancing out the windows right now, it’s highly unlikely she’d make out my face or identify me. With the top of my head just barely visible, I could be just any Ol’ redhead out and about town enjoying her Saturday.

  Reaching the doors I saw Mom walk through moments before, my steps falter slightly and I have to wipe my palms over my jeans because they’re so clammy. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously pull the door open and practically tiptoe to the hostess podium.

  “Hi, welcome to Micah’s. How many in your party today?” the black-haired hostess asks sweetly.

  Clearing my throat, I have to remind myself to speak. “One,” I whisper, glancing around.

  I don’t overlook the fact that she frowns in response. She’s probab
ly wondering why I’m whispering, and she likely thinks my being sick is the cause. People are in such a germaphobic state of mind lately due to a recent flu outbreak. I roll my eyes, and just as the eye roll is concluding, my gaze lands directly on my mother, seated with another person at a four-top table.

  Reflexively, I duck down a few inches before I realize they aren’t even looking my way. But the waitress still is, and the look she’s giving has gone from friendly to skeptical to judging in two seconds flat. Shooting her a small smile, I glance back at Mom and whoever she’s with, relieved to find they’re sitting right up against a divider separating two sections with other tables right on the other side. The other area is dimmed more than the rest of the restaurant, so it’s the perfect spying location.

  “Is that section on the other side available?” I ask, raising my voice just slightly louder than before.

  She begins shaking her head before answering, “No, sorry. It’s not. But I can seat you by the window over here.” Her voice is all cheery and persuasive, but it aggravates the shit out of me right now. Like I’m supposed to fall for that brainwashing bullshit? There are only about three tables occupied in here. I should be able to sit wherever the hell I want.

  “How much would it cost me to get it opened up, just for me, without creating a scene in the process. Maybe keep it our little secret?” I pull out the only Benjamin I have on me, holding it out in offering.

  She hesitates for a moment, but I can already tell she’s going to give in from the way her eyes light up. Money makes the world go ‘round, as they say. Guess I better start thinking of ways to make more of it without having to rely on Mom and Uncle J’s allowance.

  In the blink of an eye, her manicured hand reaches out to snatch it from me. She smiles even bigger than before. “That should be sufficient. Follow me,” she motions. When she begins to walk right through the center of the dining area, I grab her elbow.

  “Can we go the long way? There’s someone I’d like to avoid seeing and talking to. And I want the table directly on the other side of that couple eating there,” I point my mom out, eyes cutting to Uncle Jameson.

  My heart squeezes a little as I fight the urge to run to him; to wrap my arms around the one and only father figure I’ve ever had. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t actually laid eyes on him since I was a child. He’s as handsome as he ever was. Other than Gray, I’d say he might be the most handsome man in the whole world.

  As a kid, I thought he was a giant, and over years of not seeing him, I concluded that was more to do with my own short height. But even the tiny, inexperienced eyes of a little girl can’t mistake a looming figure when she sees one. He might be seated, but it’s evident that he’s even taller than Gray, who towers over me. His chestnut colored hair is just barely beginning to be tinged with little hints of silver, and other than that, it’s the only indication that he’s aged any at all in the past fourteen years.

  His hair is even the same as it’s always been, longer than most men would wear theirs but not quite long enough for a man-bun. Today, it’s slicked back, nice and neat, but I bet if he let it hang loose he’d be channeling a Jax Teller vibe.

  No wonder Mom always said he was the more handsome of the two brothers. There’s no arguing that. Uncle Jameson’s eyes are lighter, warm, like melted chocolate. His skin is naturally sun-kissed, probably a gift from the woman who gave birth to him—a different woman from Grandfather Malone’s only wife, Dominic’s mother, Margaret. In a way, Uncle J looks slightly exotic, striking even.

  My sperm-donor, on the other hand, is harsh in comparison. His features consist of pale skin, black hair and eyes to match—just like his soul. As a child that’s always how I pictured him. The monster; the soulless demon depicted in the movies I liked to sneak out of bed after midnight and catch on TV.

  My eyes blink away his image. I’ve had so many questions about the dynamics of Mom and Jameson’s relationship, and the older I get the more the questions multiply. If she had an affair with my Uncle Jameson, it could be her damn fault we’ve been on the run so many years. But… wait. That still doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t explain why Uncle Jameson is able to give us so much information about Dominic. The so-called Dom of Jersey wouldn’t trust him at all after an affair, and I doubt Uncle Jameson would still be breathing.

  There’s no way I don’t feel gratitude for all the things he’s done to keep me and my mother safe. All the letters of encouragement over the years, the gifts he's bestowed, or all the kind gestures to a little girl who had no one else. My hand absentmindedly glides up to my collarbone to finger the tiny diamond that almost always hangs there, the one he gifted me on my eighteenth birthday.

  I’m so stuck on seeing the ghost sitting across from Mom, the hostess has to repeat herself to get my attention. “Come on,” she says again, “I’ll lead you through whatever route you want to take to the table. As long as it’s not from the outside alley in through the kitchen.” She laughs at her own pathetic joke.

  “Thanks.” When we draw close to the table I requested, I ask for one last favor.

  “Will you please tell the waitress or waiter, once I’m sitting, please don’t address me. I want you to tell them my order. Water and whatever was at the top of the special board by your podium up front. Just sit the water down in front of me and leave. Same with the food.”

  She gives me this look, like I’m completely mental, and I can’t say I blame her. But I have my reasons. It’s best if Mom and Uncle J think they have complete privacy, that way they speak more freely and I can pick up more of their conversation.

  “Uh, whatever you say, Boss.” She scrunches up her nose.

  Taking the seat closest to the divider, I duck my head down slightly, even though I’m pretty much out of view. As soon as I’m settled, I pick up on their conversation almost instantly. The first voice I hear is the masculine one of Uncle Jameson. “He’s parking his car right now. Then, he’ll be inside.”

  Who?! Who is parking their car and joining them?

  As far as I know, and from the details Mom has given me over the years, these meetings are usually just between Uncle Jameson and herself. No one else has ever been invited, to my knowledge.

  Today it would seem they have invited someone else. Now my mind is screaming, Why? What could they possibly have to discuss with someone that’s worth blowing Operation Life-Support to bits? Our safety has been so well-preserved because of the amount of people who know about it. From what I’ve always been led to believe, it was just us three.

  Are they stupid?

  Sure, what I did was incredibly foolish, but their dumb asses are going to blow our cover for good. I’m guessing this mystery person is someone Uncle Jameson believes he can turn to, but what happens when he’s wrong? Whoever will tell on him, hoping to get in Dominic’s good graces, then he’ll be killed.

  Then who is going to have our backs?

  The thought makes me shudder, hairs rising on the back of my neck.

  “Good. Let’s hold off until he’s here,” my mother’s voice replies.

  I hear the thud of a glass hitting the surface of a table, and I glance to my left to see a petite little girl—probably my age but not at all looking it—scurrying away as fast as her legs will carry her.

  “Ah,” my uncle says in relief, “here he is now.”

  It takes so much self-restraint—nearly too much—to keep from poking my nosy head over to see who they’re talking about. The scraping of the wooden base of the chair against the laminate flooring drifts over to me, and I hear a man clear his throat like he’s getting ready to begin speaking.

  “Hold up, now. There’s a few things I need to say before we go into everything. Thank you for providing me with the photo and the article. It made my job a lot easier in convincing Thia”—it does not get past me that he uses Mom’s given name instead of her alias—“that it’s time to move them again. She’s been reluctant to go, but at this point, the west coast is the best ch
oice since Valentina’s brought a bit of publicity to herself. It’s the wiser choice even though neither of us are very enthusiastic about such lengthy relocation.” His voice tells me he’s extremely irritated. I bet if he knew I was here, I’d be receiving the brunt of his displeasure and irritability.

  Whoever he’s addressing is completely compliant in his wish to speak freely, as if they respect him and whatever he says goes. The idea of respect is mildly comforting because it indicates a higher chance of accountability in not ratting Uncle Jameson—and me and Mom in the process—out. But only mildly. It’s still risky as fuck.

  Then the actual topic of conversation suddenly resonates with me. Whoever the hell he’s speaking with was the source of the photos of me. I’ve been so consumed by all my other emotions, the realization nearly skated over my head.

  “And with the article, I know your concern is plausible as well. Not just some overwhelming need to control what she’s doing. Thank you,” Uncle Jameson continues.

  What the fuck?

  The only ‘He’ I can think of, who’d be driven to control me, is Dominic. He’s a controlling Motherfucker. It’s what he does; my mom knows better than anyone, and I know second-best. But again, that guess isn’t a very plausible possibility.

  “But, I need to know, and I need to know now; did you reach out to her when you saw her? Valentina’s a very smart girl. She’s capable of putting two-and-two together. Especially if all the right pieces of the puzzle fall into her lap,” my mom pipes up, her voice taking on her accusatory tone she uses when she’s skeptical about whether or not someone is going to tell her the truth.

  My ears perk up even more. I swear they even twitch, moving into position to achieve the best possible precision like an animal’s would.

  Silence ensues for a few beats, before more throat-clearing. “No. I didn’t. I just hung back, tried not to draw attention while still handling the business I initially went there to handle, and I observed. Luckily, I saw her before she saw me and was mindful of remaining out of her line of sight the rest of the evening,” a smoky-hot voice answers.