The Baby Favor

by Chance Carter

  “What, you’re too good for me now, Chanel?” he taunted. “You weren’t too good to talk to me before.”

  “That was before you beat my friend’s face to pulp,” I snapped. I wasn’t able to keep it in. “You’re sick, you know that?”

  “Oh honey, you have no idea,” he said, behind me.

  “Quiet.” That was from one of his escorts.

  “Touchy, touchy. I’m only kidding around. I didn’t beat him up, anyway, Chanel.”

  I didn’t dare turn and look him in the eye. I didn’t have Ryan’s self-control. I couldn’t shove my emotions to one side and ignore the fact that he literally ruined a man’s life.

  I trembled and hugged my laptop to my chest to guard it, and to keep my hands busy.

  “You don’t have to believe me, but it’s true. I didn’t beat Timothy.”

  “I don’t believe you at all. So save your breath.”

  “It was Ryan. He got drunk, you see,” Whitmore continued and met me at the front counter. “He was really angry when he saw that kid there. Mentioned that he’d hit on you while you were in Ryan’s car.”

  I gulped and made for the exit. I couldn’t listen to another second of it or I’d spew my dinner – greens and roast chicken – all over the tired gray tiles.

  “He saw Timothy and he went nuts. He followed him outside. I tried to stop him but Ryan was possessed. I’ve never seen him that angry. He beat that kid into the ground. He beat him until he couldn’t move anymore.”

  I’d already entered the hall, but Whitmore’s words pursued me. They tickled the tiny kernel of doubt that I didn’t know was lodged in the back of my mind. What if it was Ryan? After all, how could Whitmore possibly know about Timothy?

  “Stop,” I whispered, and hurried back to my bedroom. I entered it and swung the door shut, cutting out the imaginary cackle that had followed me all the way there. Of course, Whitmore’s laugh couldn’t have chased me to my quarters. Of course, Ryan didn’t beat Timothy to within an inch of his life. Of course not.

  “So stop being ridiculous and focus on now, here,” I said. I locked my bedroom door.

  The first few nights, I’d left it unlocked in case Ryan decided to sneak in and pay me a ‘conjugal’ visit. Suddenly, I wasn’t in the mood for anything like that.

  “Stop,” I repeated. But Whitmore had planted a horrible, thorny seed.

  How well did I really know Ryan? He was a closed book. He hadn’t let me in at all, other than to enter me and fulfill my soul with his passionate lovemaking. But in between? He was nothing but confusion.

  And didn’t Whitmore say that Ryan changed after he’d been deployed? That he came back a different man because he’d lost men.

  This wasn’t fair to Ryan. He hadn’t done anything to hurt me or anyone else to my knowledge. And I couldn’t believe that I was falling for – oh God, yes, I had fallen for him – a man who’d actually accost someone who’d done nothing to deserve it.

  But he was so jealous in the car. He drove off. I didn’t realized it at the time, but he seethed about it and now –

  My phone rang and sliced the horrible train of thought down the middle. Thank God for that. I brought it out of my jacket pocket, then swiped my thumb across the screen. “Hello?” I walked the laptop over to my desk and set it down.

  “Chanel.” My mother’s voice always sent a chill down my spine.

  Once upon a time, it made me happy. Oh how times changed. Or was it people? “Hi, mom. What can I do for you?”

  “What you can do for me is get your butt back to Meek Springs,” she said. Whoa, not pulling any punches today, apparently.

  “Uh, what?”

  “Timothy Meller is in hospital!”

  “I know,” I said.

  “He’s in a coma because – what did you say?”

  “I know,” I repeated. “I know he’s in hospital. I heard about it firsthand when they brought in the man who did it.”

  “That Baker fellow did it,” mom snapped.

  “No, he didn’t. A man named Jack Whitmore did it, and –”

  “That’s garbage in a handbag and you know it. You’re defending them instead of the people who really matter. The people down here in Meek Springs,” she replied. “Everyone’s talking about this, Chanel. Everyone knows that you’re up there with them. With him.”

  “Mom, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “Jesus!”

  “Language!”

  The conversation lulled for all of a second.

  “I won’t let my daughter become a hussy on my watch. And I won’t let her bring down our family name.”

  This was ridiculous. “Mom, you’re jumping to conclusions, okay? I’m up here working. I’ve got that big presentation coming up and once I nail it I’ll have a huge customer on our list.”

  ‘Forget about customers,” she said, “if you don’t get back down here soon I’m going to close Scott’s Interiors. I only opened the damn place to give you something to do. I don’t need the money. I’ve got enough saved up for retirement.”

  “Close the store? But you love that store.” This couldn’t be happening. “You have to understand that this is huge for us. It’s huge. Mom, you have to see reason in this.”

  “All I see is you colluding with murderers and freaks. Everyone knows they’re doing something shady up there and now you’re part of it.”

  I bit my lip to keep from screaming at her. “Mother, there is nothing strange going on up here. You of all people should know that, since your husband was a military man,” I said, in a measured tone. It still quavered but it was better than the alternative.

  “Timothy is almost dead and those men are to blame for it. I know it was that Lieutenant Commander. He was here on the day it happened. On the afternoon of the protests. He probably saw Timothy out there with them and decided to get rid of him.”

  “Stop it,” I said, and my voice rose at last. “Would you just stop! You’re being ridiculous. You have to stop blowing everything out of proportion! I’m fine, everything’s fine, just get a grip.”

  “Young lady, don’t take that tone with me. Now, I want you back down here by tomorrow, understand? Back down here or I’m closing the store.”

  “Mom, please, you have to give me more time than that. Give me a week, okay? A week to prove that everything I’m doing up here is totally innocent. I’ll get the contract and then you’ll see.”

  My mother harrumphed, which was better than an outright ‘no’ but not by much. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” She hung up without a goodbye or an ‘I love you’ like a normal mother would.

  I didn’t have anything normal anymore. I was out here on this damn base with a psycho who beat the crap out of one of the folks in Meek Springs, and with an equally crazy mother waiting for me at home. It was the definition of a rock and a hard place and the only saving grace in this whole thing was Ryan.

  And my brain wouldn’t let me trust him, now.

  My cellphone binged with a text message and I lifted it again.

  Everyone’s really pissed, Channy. I’m scared. They’re talking about a petition or getting rid of the base. I think it’s serious this time. That from Paula’s cell phone.

  I couldn’t muster up the energy to type out a reply. Christ, all I wanted was a chance to prove myself away from home, and maybe to be a little closer to the handsome and ever mysterious Ryan Baker, but everything had gotten muddled up along the way.

  The enticement of creating something tangible for the men and women here to appreciate was worn away by the circumstances. The color in my life had gone as gray as the walls in this place.

  I put the cell down on top of the laptop, then flopped down on the bed, exhaling the pressure, but failing to lift it.

  “You can do this,” I whispered. “You can make it through this.” Dad would’ve believed in me. He would’ve encouraged me to carry on, to stay the course as he’d have put it. He’d
tell me that there wasn’t an obstacle I couldn’t move or clamber over.

  The scary thing was I was starting to doubt that it was true, and I’d never doubted a single word my father had uttered.

  Tears came again and I plugged them with the heels of my palms.

  “You can do this. You can.”

  Chapter 22

  Ryan

  I spent the better half of the day thinking about Chanel, stressing that what happened with Timothy would scare her. Why did it matter to me? I was supposed to remove myself from the situation with her. We were calling this strictly physical, which should’ve been a dream come true – it would have been for most men – but it was my waking nightmare.

  I halted in front of her closed bedroom door and knocked once. A sharp rap of my knuckles that actually made me wince.

  It was pretty late. She was likely asleep by now, especially after the turmoil of the day.

  “Just a second,” Chanel called out.

  My insides twisted. So not asleep then. I checked my uniform was straight and dusted it off.

  A click of the lock and she appeared in the crack between the door and the jamb. “Oh, hey,” she said, and stepped back to admit me.

  Chanel’s eyes were puffy and a little red. Apparently, this had taken more of a toll on her than I’d realized. She wore nothing but a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of tights.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes, fine. Come in.”

  I crossed the threshold, closed the door behind me then locked it again. “Are you sure? I know today was difficult.”

  “You call putting Timothy in hospital difficult?”

  “No. And I didn’t put him there,” I replied, and folded my arms. What was this attitude about? Usually, she was at least a little happy to see me, but she seemed tired and irritable tonight. “You know what? I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m exhausted, that’s all. I thought that being here would be the opportunity of a lifetime and its turning out to be the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

  “Are you – tell me you’re kidding,” I said. I had stuck my neck out for her, after all. It wasn’t easy convincing Shepherd that a nineteen year old could take on a project this large, or that the project itself was even necessary.

  Chanel walked to her bedroom window and looked out on the darkened shapes of trucks and utility vehicles. Lights illuminated the chain link fence encompassing the area. “It’s more complicated than I expected.”

  “For you,” I said.

  “Yes for me.” Her shoulders tensed up. “This isn’t just about you and your career, Ryan. I’m here too.”

  “My career? What’s that got to do with it?”

  “Oh come on, I know that you’re doing this in part because you want to look good to your superiors. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I just feel, I don’t know, I feel like I don’t belong here.”

  “I don’t understand where this is coming from,” I replied. “A couple of hours ago you were excited about the presentation and the opportunity to prove yourself. Your words, not mine.”

  “I was.”

  “So what changed?” I couldn’t expect her to understand how things operated on a military base, but quitting wasn’t usually an option.

  “Nothing,” she whispered, and bowed her head. She kept her back to me and frustration bubbled through my veins.

  “Tell me.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to,” she replied, then spun on the spot, hair flaring out behind her. “Are you sure it was Jack who hurt Timothy? And not – well, not anyone else?”

  “Anyone else?” I blew out a thin stream of air. “Anyone else. Just ask me if I did it, kid, if that’s what you believe.”

  “I don’t believe it. I just – my mom called me and she said that –”

  “Oh your mom called you?” I stomped forward and halted right in front of her. “Oh, then it must be true, right? She’s a totally stable person.”

  “Whatever.” She was gorgeous even in her anger, but it didn’t do anything for my own. God dammit, why couldn’t she trust me? I’d been a closed book, sure, but could she really expect me to spew my emotions all over the place. I wasn’t that person and I never would be.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to sleep. Good evening.” I snapped around and made for the exit.

  Chanel caught me by the forearm and tugged once. “Wait, Ryan, I’m sorry. I don’t think you did anything wrong, I’m stressed out is all. My mom phoned and said I have a day to finish up here or she’s going to close Scott’s Interiors.”

  “What?” I looked back at her. The old lady had lost her mind.

  “She’s worried about what everyone in town will think after what happened. They’re massing down there. They want to sign a petition to get rid of the base.”

  When it rained, it poured in the Rocky Mountains, both literally and figuratively. This was the last thing I needed. I already had a fucking criminal under my watch, right down the hall from the woman I… I had sex with. “Okay, that’s fine. Thanks for the Intel.” I drew my arm from her grasp.

  “Don’t leave,” she whispered. “Ryan, don’t leave. I’m sorry. I’m afraid. That’s the only reason I said any of that. I don’t believe you’re capable of hurting an innocent man.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut for a second and the faces of my men flashed through the darkness. Hurting an innocent man? I was responsible for the deaths of more than one.

  “Please don’t go. I need you.”

  I focused on her again. “You need me.”

  “More than you know. I need your company. I need your body. Did anyone see you come in?”

  “No,” I replied. “It’s late.” Too late for most folks who woke at the crack of dawn here.

  “So, stay with me for a while.” Her bottom lip quivered. Chanel’s strength was still there, but it was frayed. “Please.”

  I stroked her hair and cupped her cheek. “Everything will be fine. Your mother won’t take the store away from you. She’s not that crazy.”

  “It’s her store. She can do what she wants with it, and when she does, I’ll be out of a job. I’ll be stuck in Meek Springs forever,” she whispered, and tears streamed from the corners of her eyes and raced down her pale, soft skin.

  I kissed one and then the other, licking the saltiness from my lips. “Don’t cry,” I whispered. “Please, don’t.” It choked me up seeing those tears, and knowing that they were a product of my actions. If I’d never taken Jack into town, or if I hadn’t gone with him, or – stop it, that’s done. There’s nothing you can do to change it or take it back.

  I stroked Chanel’s impossibly smooth cheeks, running my index finger down the bridge of her nose, then wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Don’t cry, baby.”

  Chanel craned her neck and kissed the underside of my chin. “I need you,” she repeated. She kissed again, open mouthed, a trail down my neck to the collar of my uniform. “Ryan, I need you.”

  “I’m right here,” I whispered, and clenched my teeth. “I’m here.”

  “You know what I mean.” Chanel ran her hands down my torso and worked on the buttons of my shirt.

  “If we do this –” Then what? It was hardly a new experience. We agreed it was physical and she operated within those boundaries. She hadn’t put pressure on me to step up emotionally, so why did I hesitate? Because although she might not have pressured me, I was already there.

  I was falling for her. Shit, I’d already fallen.

  I reached under the hem of her shirt and tugged the tights down her thighs.

  She wormed herself out of them without stopping her mission to get my shirt open and off. Finally, she ripped my shirt back.

  Cold air hit my torso, but I didn’t shiver. I grabbed her shirt and stripped it off, that special brand of heat we shared building. My dick was rock hard, already, throbbing against the inside of my pants.<
br />
  The affect she had on me didn’t cease to amaze me. No one else made me this hot, this quickly.

  Chanel kissed my chest and undid my belt, dragging it off. Then she unzipped my pants and dropped them.

  We were fully naked in front of each other for the first time since we’d hooked up in the motel in Meek Springs. I traced the outline of her body, the curves of her hips, the ample breasts, with my gaze. I growled.

  Christ, how could she be this perfect for me? I’d never had a perfect woman but she was it. I slapped both my hands on her ass cheeks and pulled her toward me, lifting her in both arms.

  She held me by the neck, kissing me as I walked her to the bed.

  I threw her onto it, then lowered myself on top of her, holding myself above her tight, delicious body, palms pressed against the standard issue Navy sheets. I sucked her bottom lip and inhaled her scent.

  Soap, a hint of perfume, and that Chanel odor that filled my nostrils and drove me wild. I trail kissed down her chin, throat, and to her breasts. I forced them together in both hands, sucking the nipples and massaging her flesh.

  She balled up her fists and beat them onto the mattress. “Yes,” she hissed. “More.”

  I circled her puckered nipples, the tight pink areolas with my tongue, the same motion I’d used on her clit.

  It drove her crazy. She dug her fingernails into my back and moaned, a little too loud.

  “Quiet,” I hissed, then kissed a path back up to her lips. “Quiet, gorgeous.”

  “Little hard.”

  “Oh no,” I said, and took my dick in my hand, “it’s very hard.” I pressed my head into her moist, trembling folds, so ready for me. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I forced myself inside, all the way.

  “Yes,” she said, again.

  I sat up, still inside her, grabbed each of her legs and placed them on my shoulders. Lifted her ass, admiring the little pink clit peering up at me. I spat on it and she gasped.

  “Ryan, you’re bad.”

  And I’m yours. I pressed my thumb to her clit and circled it, using my spit as lubrication.

  She arched her back and cried out again.

  I bent forward, folding her almost in half, and placed my hand over her mouth. “Shush.”