by Cora Kenborn
“Exactly where the hell do you think you’re going?”
I closed my eyes. “I assume since you just got here, you haven’t surveyed your surroundings. If you had, you’d know there’s no food in this house. Unless you’ve been around a pregnant lady when there are no Oreos in close proximity, I’d suggest letting me go.”
His chuckle infuriated me. “I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talking to, but you can drop the ‘mistress of the house’ shit.” Prying my fingers open, he effortlessly removed the keys from my hand and deposited them into his pocket. “You won’t be needing these. And while we’re on the subject, let’s go over a few ground rules.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” The damn Bale smirk coated his face.
If daggers could fly out of my eyes, he would’ve been stabbed a thousand times over. “I don’t think—”
“Rule number one, no driving.” He slammed the front door and locked it with exaggerated emphasis. “Rule two, no going outside of this house without me or my knowledge. Rule three, no answering the telephone, which goes for home and cell. As a matter of fact, why don’t you give me your cell phone?”
I laughed in his face. “Are you joking?”
“Didn’t we establish this already? I don’t kid, I don’t joke, and I don’t repeat myself. Hand it over, sister.” When I stood motionless, he rolled his eyes and shoved his hand down the front of my dress, closing his fingers around the piece of plastic, then depositing my phone into his pocket along with the keys.
“I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Oh please. Everyone knows that’s where you carry it. I told you, Pheebs, my brother gave me absolute access. If that means I cop a feel to keep you stationary, so be it.”
“You’re as much of an ass as he is.” I pouted like a child. I couldn’t help it. It was my specialty.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I wouldn’t.” I stomped past him into the living room. Spreading my arms, I curtseyed and dipped my knees. “Okay, Master Ryker, you’ve stripped me of all communication with the outside world. Now what? Would you like to handcuff me to the coffee table?” I held out my hands.
Ryker’s mouth curled, attempting to rein in a laugh. “Keep it up, smart-ass, and I just might.”
I fought a losing battle. Julian wanted it this way, and Ryker would carry out his wishes to the infinite degree. They’d made me a prisoner in my own house. As my stomach growled, I snatched one of his hands and placed it against my stomach. He tried to pull back, but I held him steady.
“Do you feel that?”
He looked horrified. “What the hell is that?”
“That is your brother’s kid. It’s hungry, so I suggest you call pizza delivery or pull some dinner out of your ass.”
“All right, fine, just never make me do that again.” He gazed at my rolling stomach and grimaced. “If I go grab a few take-out menus, can I trust you to stay here?”
Flouncing onto the couch, I gave him my most innocent stare. “Where the hell am I going go, Ry? You took my keys and phone.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “I’ll be right back. I’ll get a large cheese and pepperoni.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
I grinned and called after him. “And what will you be having?”
He grumbled, and I didn’t try to stop the smirk. It’d only been a few minutes, and I already felt like a caged animal. Swiping the remote control off the coffee table, I pressed random buttons, trying to figure out Julian’ s new configurations. Minutes later, the television sat blank and I cursed, tossing the remote across the room.
Would anything cooperate today?
I paced the room. What the hell had I gotten myself into moving here? Of course, I wanted to be with Julian. But he’d mostly be gone until after the baby came. And even then, it’d be hit or miss when his schedule allowed him to be a present and active father. Having him on the road would only…
A flash of movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.
What the hell?
Walking to the bay window, I scanned the street. Dusk illuminated everything with a hazy yellow hue. The outside world stood quiet—not even a bird sang. Giving one last look through the window, I shook my head at my own paranoia and walked toward the kitchen.
“Damn it, Ryker, where the hell are you calling, Oregon?” As I entered the kitchen, a shadow passed in front of the window. I paused, blinking a few times, and narrowed my eyes at the window again.
Nothing.
Jesus. This pregnancy would be the death of me.
***
Rolling onto my back, I counted the swirls in the paint on the ceiling. Quietness surrounded me. Even the constant hum of the football game downstairs had silenced. Ryker must’ve fallen asleep. The battle of wills we engaged in earlier ran through my mind and infuriated me.
Ryker dropped the phone to his shoulder and stared at me with the familiar mix of suspicion and intrigue. Running my hand through my hair, I rested my hands on what was left of my hips.
“What’s the hold up?”
He let out a long sigh and jerked the phone away from his ear. “Stupid delivery driver is backed up. It’ll be two hours before the pizza gets here.” He winced and shrugged. “Sorry.”
It couldn’t be this easy. I hesitated, because opportunities this easy usually blew up in my face. “So go get it.” I attempted to sound indifferent.
He laughed, and I wanted to punch him. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious, Ry. I’ll be fine.” His stomach gave a loud rumble, and I knew I had him. “You want to wait two hours to eat?”
“I don’t know, Pheebs. Can I seriously trust you to stay here and not answer the phone or door?”
Rolling my eyes, I stalked over to him. With a quick flick of my wrist, I grabbed the cell phone out of his hand and brought it up to my ear. “Is this Heights Pizza Palace? Hi, the order for Ryan? Yeah, don’t worry about delivery, we’ll pick it up.” I listened and shot an accusing glare at Ryker. “Yes, I know what he told you, but I’m fairly confident the house won’t blow up in the time he’ll be gone.”
Julian had better cover his nuts when he opened the door, because I’d have my stun gun aimed at his sack for this. Scowling, I hit the disconnect button in an exaggerated show of independence.
Anger radiated off Ryker. “I swear, woman, you make my life hell.”
“Good, because I live to make your life hell, Ry.” Taking a deep breath, I pressed the phone into his hand. “Look, you’re obviously tired. Did you sleep at all on that last press tour?”
“I don’t get paid to sleep.”
“I know, but if you don’t take a breather, you’re not going to be any good here, are you?” I was reaching, but at this point, I’d try anything short of crushing Ambien in his drink to distract him.
“You promise you’ll stay here? Here, Pheebs, inside the house. I know I have to spell it out, so there’ll be no misunderstanding.”
“Yes, Ry. I’ll keep all doors locked and all blinds pulled. It won’t kill me to be here alone for an hour.” He winced. “Okay, wrong choice of words. It isn’t going to harm me to be alone for an hour.”
He stared hesitantly at the door, then scooped the keys out of his pocket and stalked toward it. Jerking the handle back, he tilted his slightly bearded chin over his shoulder. “Don’t make me regret this. I can’t break my word to my brother.”
With a nod, I wrapped my arms around my chest, momentarily distracted by the tapping of what I assumed to be a foot against my forearm. “I won’t. I may be a pain in the ass, but we’re going to be family soon, Ry. I care about you.”
Redness rushed to the base of his neck. He jerked the door open with harsh force, his voice wafting back as he closed it. “You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re all right too.”
I blinked up at the ceiling of my bedroom and shook remnants of the ea
rlier memory away, refusing to feel guilty about what I was about to do.
Guilt was a time-wasting emotion. I finally had my chance, and I couldn’t waste another minute making sure Ryker had fallen into deep REM sleep. Stealing the keys to the Infiniti seemed like a risky move, but I had no choice. Griffith Park was at least twenty-five minutes away, and Julian would be back soon. After that, I’d be under lock and key until both wardens had better things to do.
A few swings of momentum finally had me hoisted off the mattress and on my feet. Walking down the stairs, a surge of cold air suddenly blasted my face, and I rubbed my palms over my goose bumped skin.
My eyes roved to the curtains that swayed in the breeze.
But there was no breeze. All the windows were shut and locked.
Glancing across the room, I zeroed in on an air vent. Jesus, he turned on the air conditioner at the freaking end of February? I got that winter was mild on the West Coast, but an outside temperature of the low sixties did not warrant turning the house into the Arctic Tundra.
Peering outside, I muttered to myself, mainly to break the unease of the loud silence that filled the mostly unfurnished house. “Where the hell is the damn thermostat?” Targeting a small box on the wall next to the kitchen, I ran my fingers across the wall until they connected with the square mounting attached to it. Squinting, I pushed my face against it.
Why the hell would Ryker push the setting to fifty-one degrees with the air on full blast? Still shivering, I pushed the lever to a more reasonable seventy-five. The distinctive sound of the air clicking off released the breath I’d held.
Then the breeze hit my face again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Holding one hand up, I attempted to feel where the blast came from. Glancing back to the box, I noted the green light turned off, indicating its dormancy. It was off.
Then I felt it again. The blast of air, the low hum of a breeze.
Taking a slow step to the side, I took inventory of the sliding glass door that opened onto the deck. Irritation replaced fear as I imagined how pissed Julian would be at Ryker’s carelessness with the back door.
If I got away with what I was about to pull, I’d keep it to myself as a self-protective insurance policy.
Glancing over my shoulder, I verified Ryker’s snores, then closed my fingers around the metal handle. Time served as my current enemy, and every second mattered. Placing all my weight on my back heel, I grunted as the last bit of breeze whipped my hair around my face. Once it clicked closed, I stood back and stared at it. On a whim, I pulled back on the handle once more, ensuring it was shut tight. Satisfied, I double checked the lock and tiptoed into the living room. I glanced pitifully at Ryker as he faced the wall, sleeping peacefully on the couch.
Rookie mistake, kid.
Trying to get comfortable, he’d taken his keys, my keys, his phone, and my phone from his pockets and deposited them on the coffee table. Part of me felt bad for taking advantage of his inexperience with stubborn-ass females. Then, the freaked out, paranoid pregnant lady in me kicked that bitch in the shins, grabbed both sets of keys and phones, and slipped out undetected.
I loved Julian Bale, and I loved our baby.
I couldn’t love either one if I were in a morgue drawer beside Elisabeth Cayden.
Once inside the Infiniti, I punched in the location for Crystal Springs Drive and waited until I’d exited the subdivision before turning on the headlights.
Chapter Eight
Tiptoeing backward into the living room, I placed my hand against my heart. The wild thumping reminded me that the badass independence I portrayed to Ryker earlier faded the minute I saw where she’d been dumped. It took forever to find, but once I did, it became real. Up until then, my information came from vague reports spoken from well-botoxed morning anchors. I’d mastered the art of distancing myself from the reality of his destruction.
Until now.
Seeing Elisabeth Cayden’s final resting place changed me—and not for the better. Her physical body wasn’t there—already shipped off to the medical examiner’s office—but she still lingered. The stench of death filled my airways. Her picture ran across every LA news show within ratings proximity, and her bright blue eyes haunted me. They spoke to me. They mirrored me.
Elisabeth Cayden wasn’t chosen at random.
She’s a message.
A haunting chill swept through me and I shivered. My teeth chattered from what I knew had come to fruition. Regardless of what Julian fought to make me believe, my father had found me. He’d made good on the promise he’d made as he held a knife to my throat.
“No matter where you run, I’ll always find you, princess.”
The room swallowed me with emptiness. The house felt like a medieval castle, when it barely hit two-thousand square feet. Most of America would call it a shit-hole, which made me laugh considering the rent Julian shelled out for it could buy a small third world country.
“How nice of you to return, Judas.”
Shit.
I’d planned on Ryker still being asleep so I could slip upstairs, sight unseen. I didn’t have enough time to think up a plausible enough excuse to be standing in the middle of the living room in street clothes, with two sets of keys and both our phones in my purse.
And fuck if he wasn’t pissed.
“Ry…”
He clenched his fists and glued them to his side, something I’d recognized as a trait in highly irate Bale men. “Don’t you fucking ‘Ry’ me, Phoebe. Do you know how fucking pissed I…I can’t even talk to…Jesus Christ, you took my keys and my phone? What kind of psycho super spy are you?”
“I’m not a—”
“And let’s not discuss what the hell my brother’s going to do to me when he finds out.” He grabbed handfuls of his shaggy hair and tugged wildly. “I’ll tell you what he’s going to do—he’s going to cut off my dick and strangle me with it. That’s my obituary, Phoebe—cock asphyxiation. Won’t my mother be proud? So, yeah, thanks for that.”
It was a truly sad day when I stood as the rational one in the room.
I snickered, and he glared. “I don’t see what’s so fucking funny, Gone Girl.”
“You’re overreacting, Ry. He doesn’t have to know anything.”
“Oh?” His lips curled in a mocking snarl as he pointed to my purse. “Go ahead. Check our phones and tell me we aren’t screwed.”
Humoring him, I dug in my purse and with a phone in each hand, I activated the screens. There were at least five missed calls on each from Julian. My stomach dropped.
He smiled smugly and crossed his arms. “Any more bright ideas, Sherlock?”
I needed a cohesive story, lie by carefully constructed lie. Julian was a bloodhound and excelled at pulling confessions out of me. Ryker was a huge pain in my ass, but he’d done nothing wrong. I owed it to him to protect him from his brother’s irrational wrath. Plus, I needed someone to talk to about what happened at Griffith Park. A part of me still sat on the merry-go-round beside the jewel encrusted horse where they found her.
“We need to talk.”
“No shit,” he snarled.
I threw myself into his unprepared arms—a move that took him by surprise as he stumbled backward. A red tinge crawled up his neck, and I had to swallow a partial smile.
“Oh, stop. I just needed a hug, you big dumbass.”
Ryker shifted his eyes downward. “Are you okay? Where did you go tonight?”
The embrace became awkward, and I moved away. “I’m fine. A little tired and a lot stressed. I went…” I hesitated, deciding if I should trust him, “…I went to Griffith Park.”
“Are you fucking insane?” he yelled.
“Wow, thanks, Ry. You sure know how to comfort a girl, don’t you?” I didn’t need this shit. My nerves were shot, and within minutes, I’d have a bigger problem. A six-foot-two-inch problem with an attitude.
He shoved his hand nervously into his pocket. “I didn’t mean it that way. I…I…damn it.” He
rubbed his forehead and let out a defeated breath. “Griffith Park? Of all fucking places? Do you have a vendetta against me? He’s going to kill me. I mean kill me; very slowly and very painfully.”
I lightly touched his arm, and he flinched underneath my fingertips. “I’ll take care of it. He won’t freak out.”
“Hi, Phoebe. Nice to meet you. I’m Julian’s brother.” He shook my hand off. “He put me in charge of guarding his room during a sleepover for my own birthday in fourth grade. Kyle Manning went into Julian’s room and trashed his model airplane collection while I blew out my candles.”
“That wasn’t your fault.” My brow furrowed.
He snorted. “Didn’t matter to Julian. While I was at Little League practice the next day, he pissed all over my baseball cards and shoved them inside my shoes.”
I twisted the dampened hair at my nape. “Shitty, yes, but that’s kids, Ry.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “He tied the shoelaces together and threw them over the powerlines.”
“Oh.” Damn.
“Those were model planes he left me in charge of, Phoebe. You’re having his kid.” He fell backward onto the couch, his hand covering his eyes. “I’m so fucked.
Sitting beside him, I patted his leg. “Look, I’m the one who pulled this shit, and I’ll take the heat.” Again, I reached out to touch his arm, and he immediately shrugged it off, inching away from me.
“If anything had happened to you…” he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his gaze attuned to the round dome of my belly, “…I’d never have forgiven myself.”
“Neither would I.”
We both froze as Ryker’s transfixed stare on my stomach shifted upward and his eyes widened.
Julian.
Seconds ticked by as he stood in the doorway, his arms crossed stoically over his chest with his feet planted shoulder width apart. My eyes traveled up his face, and our stares collided.
“By all means, don’t let me interrupt the conversation. Ry, I think you were telling my fiancée you’d never forgive yourself if something had happened to her? What might have happened, Ry? What’d you do? Did you bail on her for some groupie pussy when,” he stared at the ceiling in mock thought, “oh yes, when you were being trusted, and well paid, I might add, to make sure she was never alone?”