Chapter 5
WET FROM THE RAIN AND shivering, Christine hovered in the doorway to Michael’s apartment. Uncertain. She didn’t know how to tell him about the baby. What am I doing here? But he tilted his head in a way that said he understood. She rushed into his arms and sobbed. She buried her face in his chest. I look so ugly, don’t look at me. He whispered the comforting sounds of a lover and let her cry. No demands for explanations. No questions.
When she reached the end of her tears she showed him the pregnancy test strip. His brow furrowed as he looked from the test to her. “A baby?” Christine held her breath. The confusion on his face was replaced with a smile so wide he looked witless. “Really?”
Christine let herself to feel his joy. It was how Phillip should’ve reacted. She threw her arms around his neck. “Yes, really.”
For a few precious moments, they beamed at one another, gleefully happy. No thought to reality. No thought to consequences. Michael puffed out his chest as though his happiness might crack it open. “This changes everything.”
But that one tiny sentence sent her crashing back to Earth. He was right. It did change everything. For the worst. Her eyes searched his. “Michael, listen to me. You don't understand.
He bobbed his head, still grinning like a happy idiot. “I understand. I’m going to be a daddy.”
Christine wriggled out of his arms. “It’s not that simple.” She went to the window—the rain running down the panes melting the world outside. “He won't let me,” she whispered. “He told me to get rid of it.”
He stomped to the window and she spun her toward him. “What do you mean?” She waited the few seconds it took for him to get her meaning. His dark eyes blazed. “He can go to Hell.” He cupped her face in his hands. “He can’t make you kill our baby.”
She jerked away from his touch. “Yes, he can make me. And he will.”
Michael raked a hand through his hair. “Then leave him.”
Christine stumbled back. “Leave him? Oh sure, why didn’t I think of that?” She twisted her lips. “Just tell me how.” She turned back to the window and watched the rain warp everything. “I can’t leave him.” Feeling him behind her, she turned to look into his eyes. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t ever leave him.”
Michael punched the wall. “The hell you can’t.” Christine backed away, trembling. He trailed her, shaking a fist in the air. “You pack your bags and walk out the door. You can manage that, can’t you?”
He’d never raised his voice to her before. She continued backward until she fell onto the bed. Eyes on the fist poised in the air, she scooted back, back until she hit the wall. “And when he finds us? Then what?”
Michael loomed over her, anger like dark slashes etched into his face. “We tell him to fuck off.”
Christine moaned and hopped off the bed as though it was on fire. “Are you crazy?”
Michael followed her around the room, flailing his arms. “What's he going to do? Kill us?”
Fear jolted through her. “Yes. Exactly. He’d kill us.”
Michael lowered his voice to a growl. “Not if I kill him first.”
Christine shuddered and backed toward the door. “Are you out of your mind? Do you hear what you’re saying?”
He groaned and slumped into a chair. “It’s not fair, he doesn't deserve you.”
The words hurt and stopped her in her tracks. Even he thought she was just a toy, something to own. “Not fair? What am I, some kind of prize? Is that what you want? To own me? Like him?”
Michael rushed for her, flapping his hands. “No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that.”
She hugged herself as if she could rid herself of the chill she felt to her soul. “Everything is so black and white to you. You think all I have to do is walk away and he’ll accept it?” She shuddered. “You really don’t know who he is, do you? What he’s capable of?”
Michael extended a hand to her, took a tentative step toward her. “I know he’s an asshole.” He moved another step closer. “But he’s not indestructible.” She lifted her eyes to his—wanting to believe he was right. “I see what he’s doing to you.” His fingers grazed hers. “He's killing you.” He patted his chest. “Inside. In your soul. Somebody has to stop him.”
Christine staunched her tears with the heel of her hand. “How? I don’t think he’ll ever stop until he’s dead.” He squeezed her hand and she looked into his eyes. She shook her head. “No, Michael, no.”
He gathered her in his arms. “I’m not afraid of him.” She felt his heart thumping in his chest, excited at the challenge of ending Phillip.
“You should be.” She pulled back to look him in the eyes, straight on. “I am. I’m terrified of what he’ll do.”
He was so casual, as though it were nothing. He even smiled a little and rocked her in his arms. “It’s all right, baby, I'll take care of him.”
She wrenched free of him. “No, you won’t.” She shook him as though it would wake him up to what he was saying. “Promise me you won’t do anything. You don’t understand who you’re up against. You won’t win. Nobody ever wins against him.”
Her words wounded him and his face sagged. “You don’t believe in me?”
She believed in his heart and his soul but he was no match for Phillip. He’d get himself killed and she couldn’t bear the thought of it. “There’s no way out, Michael. We can’t win. I’m getting an abortion.”
Michael’s head snapped back. “What?” The look of disgust on his face turned her away in shame. He stomped past her and flung open the door. “Then get out.”
She fanned her arms. “He's forcing me. Can’t you see that?”
His icy stare sliced through her. “Or you just want an excuse to get rid of it.”
Christine grasped his arm. “I think he's having us followed. That he knows about us.”
He sneered. “Then why are we sneaking around? If he knows.” He shook off her hand. “Phillip’s a prick but you can’t blame him for everything. He’s not holding a gun to your head. Admit it, you don’t want your own baby.”
She lunged at him and he caught her by the wrists. “I want my baby. You don’t understand that I can’t defy him. I’ve tried. So many times and, and—”
“Well then, you better stop coming around here.” He dragged her to the door. “Go. Just go.” When she didn’t move, he said, “Get out. I don’t want you here.”
Without him, she had no one. Nowhere to turn. “We have to talk. We have to—”
Michael shook her. “What? You won't leave him. You're having an abortion because he told you to. You do whatever he says. What’s there to talk about?”
She jumped at a sudden clap of thunder. The rain pounded the balcony and rattled the iron stairs. She was dizzy, confused, and alone. It was no use. This was her misery and Michael couldn’t change that. She turned to exit he blocked her from passing. “Why won't you fight back?”
She hung her head. “I don't know how. Please, just let me—”
But he wouldn’t let her go. “So, that’s it? You're just giving up? Letting him win?”
She tried to skirt around him. “Don’t you see, he already has.”
Michael moved out of her way. “Only because you’re letting him.”
She shook her head sadly. “You act like he's doing this to you.”
“Well, isn’t he?” He clutched her arm. “That baby inside you is mine too.” He shook his head. “No, I won't let him do it. I’m not afraid of him.”
Christine wrenched free of his grip. “You can’t stop him.”
The phone rang and jerked them out of the moment. He sneered and showed her the caller I.D.—Work. “Does the asshole have the place bugged?” He trained his eyes on her as the phone continued to ring. “We’ll see just how unstoppable he is.” Finally, he answered. “Yeah?”
When he turned his back, Christine bolted out the door.
SHE DROVE AIMLESSLY. She needed to think. She nee
ded a few moments of peace.
Out of instinct, she aimed the car north, toward an old beach house filled with happy memories. It’d been so long since her last visit and for all she knew, time and the ocean had swept the old place away. But she drove anyway. And kept driving until she coasted down the old access road. And finally, she came upon it. A battered soldier standing vigil against the storm and surf.
Drenched to the skin, she climbed the stairs of the weathered deck and knocked. Time stopped when the door slid open and she was met with the smile of her favorite person in the world. Aunt Violet, you haven’t changed.
Her old auntie croaked a laugh and held Christine against her ample bosom. “Praise the Lord, my baby girl has come home.” Christine burrowed into the safety of Violet's embrace. “Oh, honey, what’s happened?”
“I’m in trouble, Violet. Such deep trouble.” She wept. “What am I going to do?”
Chapter 6
PHILLIP STOOD AT HIS office door as Shaw stamped in from the outside. He shook the rain from his hair like the family pet and grinned at Martha.
“You called?”
Martha nodded and twisted toward Phillip. “Actually, Phillip...”
The light drained from Shaw’s face when he spotted Phillip. The apprehension in the kid’s eyes was gratifying. Gritting his teeth in a smile, he said, “Just the man I wanted to see.”
The kid shot Martha a look, as though betrayed but she swiveled back to her computer. He raised his brows at Phillip. “You wanted to see me?”
Phillip curled a hand to lure Michael into the private office. “Come on.”
Shaw dragged his feet following Phillip into the office. He slouched into the visitor chair and made no effort to hide his irritation.
Phillip swiveled in his Herman Miller chair at the big walnut desk—staring at Shaw, who squirmed at the silence. He splashed some bourbon into his coffee and shook the bottle at the kid. “Offer you some hospitality?”
Shaw tucked his chin and shook his head. “I'm good.”
“Suit yourself.” He swigged his coffee and savored the burn that eased down his throat. Still, he said nothing more.
Shaw shifted in his seat. “Something on your mind, boss?”
Phillip rotated a framed picture of Christine toward Shaw. “Pretty, isn't she? My wife? She’s a pretty woman, yeah?”
Shaw clenched his jaw and he blew out a breath before answering. “Very.”
Phillip enjoyed needling the kid—it was kind of a turn on. “Damn right. She’s a beauty.” He positioned the photo so Shaw could see it too. “A man has to protect his interests. He can't just sit by and let things go to hell without doing something about it. Don’t you agree?” He locked eyes with his wife’s lover, then leaned back and smiled. “Of all my guys, the customers like you the best. Did you know that? Oh, they can’t say enough nice things about you. Yeah, they think you’re top drawer.”
Shaw leaned his elbows on his knees and cocked his head. “You don't look so good. You feeling all right?” When Phillip didn’t answer him, he gripped the arms of the chair to lift himself up. “Maybe we should do this another time.”
Phillip fisted the hand that rested on the desk. “No, we're doing this now. Right now.”
Shaw dropped back into his seat and saluted Phillip. “Okay, you're the boss.”
Shaw maintained a neutral expression and slouched like it was no big deal. But Phillip got the real story from the set jaw and the tapping foot. He snickered. “That's a cute move. That sincere concern act of yours. I can see why those lonely housewives think you're such a stud. Yeah, they must get a thrill up their leg whenever they see you coming. Swinging that tool belt.” He splashed more bourbon in his coffee and took a swig. “You guys all think I’ve got my head up my ass, don’t you? But you're wrong.” He swept an arm as though all before him were his kingdom. “I know everything that goes on around here.” He stared down his competitor. “Every. Single. Thing.”
Shaw shifted his gaze to the window behind Phillip, a soft smirk twisting his lips. “Okay. You've got eyes in the back of your head. So?”
Phillip lifted out of his chair. “So, I don't like you. And I don't like you screwing my wife.”
Shaw took a stab at pretending shock but he was no actor and looked like an idiot with his mouth hanging open.
“You can wipe that bullshit look off your face too.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “It's time for you to hit the road. You read me?”
Shaw didn’t move and Phillip tensed, ready for a fistfight if it came to that. Then the kid snickered. “You're funny.”
Phillip grunted. “I ain't laughing.”
Michael stood. He leaned across the desk and glowered at Phillip. “We all know what you want. Let's see what Christine wants.”
Phillip pounded the desktop and Shaw reared back. “Christine wants what I tell her to want.”
Shaw stared at him—hands clenched at his sides. Was he debating whether to throw the first punch? If only you would. The satisfaction of putting the punk in jail would’ve made Phillip’s day.
Quietly, Shaw said, “You don’t own her, you asshole.”
Phillip chuckled. “You don’t get it, pal. You don't have the power. I have the power. She'll never leave me for a nothing like you.”
The kid’s eye twitched at being called a nothing but he kept his weird smile firmly in place. He raised his hands and backed toward the door. “Whatever you say, man.” He zipped his jacket and smiled. “Shit jobs like this are easy to come by. But don't worry, I don't expect a reference.”
Phillip tossed a pay envelope at Shaw. “A little extra in there for severance. I’m nothing if not a generous son-of-a-bitch.”
Shaw checked the envelope then stuffed it in his pocket and sniggered. “Fine by me.” He patted his pocket. “But let’s be clear, you’re not buying me off.”
Phillip narrowed his eyes. “I think I am.”
Shaw shrugged. “Free country. Think what you want.”
“Wise up, man. She isn't worth it. You're better off without her.”
Shaw chuckled. “And you’re just looking out for me, eh Phillip?” He shook his head and paused at the door. “No, she’s better off without you. And we both know it.”
Phillip was in his face before the kid could blink. He gripped him by the shoulder and held him there. “Only way we split is if one of us is in a body bag. Even then, she wouldn’t let me go. She can’t.”
Michael snorted and flung off Phillip’s hand. “You really believe this bullshit, don’t you?”
“She’s still with me, isn’t she?”
The look in the kid’s eyes said he wanted to pound Phillip into another time zone. He had balls, Phillip had to give him that. His eyes blazed. “You've messed with her head so much she doesn’t know what to think. If she got away from you for five minutes, she’d be a different woman. One who’d tell you to fuck off.”
Phillip chuckled and opened the door for Shaw. “Oh, is that problem? If she could just think for herself things would be different? She’d throw me over for you? So you two kids could go live happily ever after in the land of babies and puppy dogs?” He clapped Shaw on the shoulder. “You think this is about true love or something? That you’re the only loser she’s bonked since we’ve been married?”
Michael shoved past Phillip. “The only loser in this room, is you, Logan.”
Shaw banged out the front door and Phillip laughed. “I guess you showed me, huh, kid?” He caught Martha gaping at him and sneered. “Mind your business, Mo.”
She said nothing but got up and went to the file room—closing the door just a little too hard. He laughed it off and went to the front door. Shaw stomped through the rain to his truck. The kid knew the score now. If he was smart, he’d take his pay and severance and move on. Christine belonged to him. And no one else. Shaw could go find somebody else’s wife to screw.
The kid revved his engine then tore out of the lot. Phillip blew him a kiss
. “Bye-bye, mother-fucker.”
Chapter 7
CHRISTINE HUDDLED UNDER an afghan on the sofa while Violet dabbed at a seascape on the beat-up easel she always kept in the room. The teapot and their empty teacups sat on the coffee table, and would probably be ignored until morning. Violet had fed her homemade chicken soup and bread and made her finish every bite. Even though she wasn’t hungry. But Violet knew better—she always had where Christine was concerned. Now with a full belly, snuggled and comfortable in a warm room, she felt safe.
Violet clucked her tongue. “I wish you never married that man.”
Christine tucked the afghan around her. “Wishing doesn’t change anything. Believe me, I know.”
Violet waved her paintbrush and trained her deep gray eyes on Christine. “You gotta leave him.”
Christine marveled at Violet’s single-mindedness. As if all she had to do was decide and it would be done. Her aunt didn’t understand that life was different there, in the cottage where time stood still. Where you could breathe and nobody watched your every move. But once she stepped outside that door, life would return to what it was—a suffocating misery. She loved Violet for trying to convince her that she could stand up to Phillip. For making her feel she could do anything. But in her heart, she knew it wasn’t true. “I can’t. He won't let me.”
Violet put down her brush and wiped her hands on a rag. She shuffled to the sofa and with a gentle gnarled hand, brushed back Christine’s hair. “Not if you don’t exercise your own free will. He’s always gonna get his way if you just let him run over you. You’ve got to stand up to him.”
Christine gnawed on her fingernail. “I should’ve waited until it was too late. Until he couldn't stop it.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Why didn't I wait?”
Violet tutted. “Tricks don't work. You know that, honey. Only way is to face up to him and stand your ground. He doesn’t like it, then too bad. You can live here with me. Ocean air is good for a baby.” She smiled sweetly at Christine. “You don’t have to stay with that man.”
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