Craving HIM (Serving HIM Vol. 7)

by Parker, M. S.

  “Well…” His eyes strayed past my shoulder and I looked back, almost stumbling in surprise.

  It was Penelope. Her eyes widened at the sight of me and blood slowly drained out of her face. I could see myriad emotions flashing across her features. Anger. Loathing. Humiliation.

  “Seeing as how the DA is pressing charges against both her and Mitchell Pence, it’s possible you’ll have to talk to more cops in the future. Maybe even testify if they aren't willing to take a plea.”

  Penelope’s eyes were jerking and darting around, looking at everything and everybody but me. A man in a suit came up to stand next to her and when he touched her shoulder, she flinched.

  “You knew she’d be here,” I said softly.

  “She was due in for interview,” Alvarez said easily. “Funny. She kept insisting this was all a mistake, that even if we tried to take it to court, it wouldn’t work. You’re too much of a mouse, she said. A bit of a bumpkin. And your guy is still in love with her, or so she claims.”

  I continued to stare at Penelope, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders relax. “Timid? No. I think she’s confusing me with somebody else.”

  ***

  I fell asleep before nine that night and the next morning, I woke to smell eggs and bacon, along with coffee. Some of my favorite things to smell in the morning.

  And it sent me hurtling to the bathroom to empty my stomach.

  “Stress,” I told myself, staring at my reflection after I finished washing my face and brushing my teeth.

  It was just stress, that was all. I told myself that every morning when I spent the first hour up bent over the toilet and gagging at the mere thought of food.

  It was harder to keep trying to pretend as the week wore on and by the time we arrived at the Hamptons for a weekend of doing absolutely nothing, I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. I had to know.

  While Dominic was swimming laps in the pool, I took the car and drove to the small market we’d passed on our way in, blithely grabbing a couple of blue boxes along with a few items that we didn't really need but would be enough of an excuse for my trip.

  I'd intended to do it after Dominic had fallen asleep, but I was too tired, so it was nearly two in the morning when I woke up, curled next to Dominic.

  He must have carried me to bed.

  My gut started clenching and I thought I might be sick as I hunted my purse down and carried it into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I had confirmation of why I'd been so sick and so tired recently.

  Pregnant.

  For a few brief seconds, elation flooded me.

  A baby. Wondering, I pressed my hand to the flat of my belly and closed my eyes, picturing it. A baby with the warm smooth gold of my skin...and Dominic’s blue eyes.

  I came crashing down to earth.

  A baby. Memories from months ago rose up and clogged my throat. Dominic, always so careful when it came to protection. So controlling over every aspect of his personal life, wanting everything perfectly planned and scheduled.

  He wouldn’t be happy.

  Tears burned my eyes now and I braced my back against the wall, slipping down to stare at the counter in front of me.

  I was pregnant.

  Delight warred with misery. I wanted this baby. It wasn't even a question.

  But keeping it might mean losing the only man I'd ever loved.

  Chapter 20

  Dominic

  Aleena wasn’t feeling well. Coming up here to the Hamptons for the weekend had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I had to wonder. The long drive had exhausted her and she had hardly eaten dinner the night before.

  She’d gone into town with Vincent earlier in the afternoon and she’d been quieter than normal, not talking or teasing me the way she normally did. After we finished eating, she’d gone up to our bedroom and I’d found her on the bed, still dressed, an hour later. She only made a few groggy mutters at me when I’d slid her shoes and jeans off, leaving her to sleep in her shirt and panties. When I had slipped into bed next to her a few hours later, she hadn’t even stirred.

  Ten hours later, she was still asleep.

  The stress, I had to figure. The past few weeks had been hell, plus she had just gotten over that ear infection. It was understandable that she wasn’t feeling all that great. Understandable that she was worn out. As a matter of fact, I’d been working her damn hard from the very beginning. She probably needed a bit of a break and some rest and had for a while, but she’d just kept on pushing herself until her body took over.

  Once she had a chance to rest and decompress over this bullshit with Pence and Penelope, then she’d feel better. I’d been telling myself that ever since I’d found her asleep, still dressed, last night because I couldn't bear the thought that it could be something else. That maybe she was really sick. Like deep inside sick, the kind that meant hospitals and x-rays and CAT scans and talking about “what-if” plans.

  I knew I was over-reacting, but I couldn't seem to stop the crazy thoughts circling in my head, telling me all the ways I could lose her. I needed to just ask her if she was okay.

  I was already halfway through my fourth cup of coffee when she finally shuffled into the kitchen. She was wearing a pair of yoga pants and a too-big tank top that kept falling off one of her shoulders. Her nipples were soft under the thin material and her hair was rumpled. She looked sleepy and beautiful.

  And she was mine.

  Her eyes slid my way and she smiled tiredly before looking around. “You already had breakfast?”

  “Yes. What would you like to have? I’ll let Mary know. She's just in the pantry, checking to see what needs restocked.”

  Aleena grimaced. “Toast. That’s all I want.”

  “You’re still sick.” Rising from my chair, I opened my arms and she immediately leaned into me.

  “I’m not sick. I’m tired. Stressed.” The words were slightly muffled as she put her head against my chest.

  The words she said should have soothed some of my nerves, but she felt oddly frail and she gripped my waist tightly, as though she thought I was slipping away. The anxiety in my stomach doubled.

  “Aleena.” Burying my face in her hair, I took a moment to breathe in her scent before I said, “I want to take you to the doctor.”

  “No.” She eased back, giving me an easy smile. “I’m tired, Dominic. I just want to rest. Rest. Not think about Penelope or Mitchell or the cops or the videos.”

  I wasn’t going to be able to keep convincing myself it was stress, no matter what she said. Shadows lay like bruises under her eyes and I fought the urge to argue. Only the knowledge that it wouldn’t make her feel any better kept me from pressing the matter.

  Stroking a finger across her cheek, I nodded in an agreement I didn't feel. “A few days of rest, then. If you’re not feeling better when we get back to New York, you’ll let me take you into the doctor.”

  She pressed a quick kiss to my chin, but didn't meet my eyes. “If I don’t know what’s going on by then, yes.”

  I could tell that was the best I was going to get. I reluctantly released her and followed her to the kitchen. I poured her a glass of orange juice as she toasted two slices of bread. Neither of us spoke, and I could sense that she was just as lost in her own thoughts as I was. Except my thoughts were about her and I doubted she was thinking about me.

  While we were on our way into the morning room, my phone rang. The sight of Kowalski’s name on the screen didn’t make me happy though. The man did good work and he was on top of things, plus a professional through and through. But I really didn't want to deal with anything right now. I knew, however, he wouldn’t be calling me this weekend unless it was important.

  I answered and the tension in his voice had my pulse picking up. “What’s going on?”

  I flicked Aleena a look as I waited for him to answer. No more bad news. That was all I wanted. No more bad news right now, not when I was worried about her.

  He hesitated,
as if he was trying to find the right words. “I’ve got...well, let’s just say some very sensitive information that you need to be aware of. I can’t talk about it on the phone. I’m heading up your way. Can we meet? I’m an hour outside of the Hamptons.”

  I headed for the stairs, wanting to put some distance between me and Aleena in case I had to say something about what I'd hired Kowalski to do.

  “Which...assignment is it about?” I wasn't sure which one would be worse. If it was bad enough for him to come up here, it had to be bad, and I didn't know if I wanted it to be bad about Pence and Penelope or about...

  “It's the new job you gave me. I have some pretty damning stuff. Can we meet?”

  I stopped breathing.

  It wasn’t until my chest started to ache that I realized the problem and let air out in a rush. “How sensitive?”

  “Very. Trust me, Mr. Snow, while you likely don’t want to hear what I have, you need to know it.”

  That didn't sound good at all.

  “I'll be there.”

  Aleena was lounging in a chair on the wide deck when I came back downstairs. She had a book in her hand, but she wasn’t reading. Her eyes were on the water and she was gazing out over the ocean as if mesmerized. She had a little more color to her cheeks, which was a good thing.

  “I have to see Kowalski,” I said, kneeling in front of her. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I can always have him come here.”

  “I’m fine.” She pushed a hand through my hair and a zing of electricity went through me. “I’m feeling better already. Just need to drag my lazy tail out of this chair, go shower and dress. I’ll feel better once I do. I’m just lacking motivation.”

  “Your tail is perfect.” I kissed her palm and then stood. “If you need to take a day to rest, then do it. Take a few days, a week, a month. Just take care of yourself.”

  She looked up at me with a fond smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Dominic, if I took a month off, you’d fall apart. You can’t keep track of what you’re doing in a single day, much less a month.”

  She had no idea just how right she was. I'd be lost without her, but if she needed some time off, I'd make it happen. “I’ll manage. If you need some time, take it.”

  “If I need it. Right now, this bit of rest is helping.” She nodded and I turned to go before I talked myself out of it.

  I had a feeling it wouldn’t take much to talk myself out of this, either. I'd much rather have stayed and taken care of Aleena than go hear what my PI had to say.

  ***

  Kowalski had been right.

  I didn’t want to know.

  The information turned out to be far beyond my worst imaginings and I couldn’t think of much else that would have made this any better for me. Grimly, I read through the report a second time and then crumpled it in my fist, resisting the urge to throw it against the wall. It wouldn’t do any good. It was a piece of paper, not enough to do the kind of damage I was craving. Plus, it wasn't the sort of thing I wanted lying around.

  Kowalski didn’t blink an eye. Instead, he slid a journal toward me, but kept a hand on top of it. “This is the only copy. No crumpling it.”

  “Got it.” Sucking in a breath, I opened it. The journal had belonged to Georgia Hayes, a woman who, according to Kowalski, had worked as the personal assistant slash secretary for JC Woodrow for years. She'd also been his mistress.

  “Why is she sharing this now?” We were sitting outside a coffee shop I’d suggested, tucked in the far back. At Kowalski’s insistence, I’d put on a pair of gloves before touching the journal. It made sense. We didn’t want any extra fingerprints on it. He’d done the same. Flipping the book open, I skimmed the first page before I looked back up at him. “Doesn’t she realize she’s implicated as well?”

  Kowalski stroked a finger down a neatly trimmed sideburn. “Ms. Hayes has cancer. Pancreatic. It’s invasive and not responding to treatment. They don’t think she’ll live to see Christmas. I’m not sure if she’s trying to unburden her soul before she dies, or if she’s just still pissed off at Woodrow for replacing her with a younger model when they first diagnosed her.”

  “He dumped her when she told him she had cancer?” Okay, that was damn low. Even as gun shy as I was about relationships—or as gun shy as I had been before Aleena—I never would've done anything like that.

  “I asked the same thing. In a manner of speaking.” He sipped his coffee and looked around, his gaze casual but I had a feeling he was watching everything and everybody around us. “She told me that his response to her was quite civilized and logical, and that he did compensate her financially—she’ll die a rich woman. However, they had an arrangement and as she was going to be rather ill and struggling to cope, she wouldn’t be able to hold up her end of the deal. It was best to just end things while she still had the energy to find a place to live.”

  Hissing out a breath between my teeth, I lowered my gaze back to the journal. “Shit.”

  “Very much so.”

  When I caught him doing another one of those casual surveys, I narrowed my eyes on his face. “Are you expecting company?”

  He gave a slight start and then laughed. “You’re very observant, Mr. Snow. If you ever decide you want a change of pace, I imagine I could make you into quite the detective.” He took another sip of his coffee and then shook his head. “No. I’m not expecting company, but I like to be prepared. Woodrow keeps Ms. Hayes under watch. It’s not constant, but I don’t think he trusts her. I was very careful when I approached her and I’m certain I wasn’t noticed, but I don't want to risk it.”

  Slowly nodding, I processed that information. “If he’s watching her, then maybe he’s already prepared for something like this.”

  “I think he’s watching her to make sure he doesn’t need to prepare. I don’t think Woodrow thinks much of women in general. He’s an arrogant son of a bitch. He’s just covering his ass. As he should with this woman. Probably more than he thinks. She’s very sharp.”

  Rubbing a hand down my face, I pondered my next concern. “If you’re wondering if she’s doing this out of revenge, the cops are going to wonder the same thing.”

  “I already pointed that out to her.” The smile on his face was cagey and he looked to his side, reaching into a box I’d just now noticed. “Which is why she passed me this information as well.”

  I blinked and then rubbed my face before I looked back down. In front of me were pictures, a neat stack of discs, and a box of old VCR tapes. He gave a meaningful glance down and I craned my neck to see. He actually had a box of evidence.

  “Have you looked...?” I glanced down at the top photo and the rest of the sentence died. Squeezing my eyes tightly closed, I told myself I was seeing things. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.

  But when I looked again, the man in the image hadn’t changed.

  It was him.

  My fucking father.

  With my other fucking father.

  Solomon Snow sharing drinks with JC Woodrow. “What is this?” I demanded, hardly able to believe what I was looking at.

  “They knew each other,” Kowalski said quietly. There was something in his eyes. I thought it might have been sympathy.

  Curling a hand into a fist, I snarled, “So what? Solomon Snow had money and moves in the right circles. Woodrow is a politician—”

  “They’ve been friends since grade school.” Kowalski's voice was quiet. “They shared a house all throughout college. Woodrow introduced your father to your mother.”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  That wasn't possible. I wanted to get up, take off. Drive back to the house and grab Aleena, hold her. Lose myself in her. I definitely didn't want to have to think about the implications of what this meant.

  “No,” I said again. The man was a cold bastard, but that cold?

  “They knew each other,” Kowalski said again, as though he had to make me understand. “And your father...your adoptive fat
her...”

  He stopped and then sighed, reached into his ugly box for one last piece of evidence.

  A folder.

  I didn't want to open it, but I knew I had to. When I did, I immediately wished I'd followed my gut instinct to run. Inside the folder were copies of deposit slips, from Solomon to others. Kowalski also had information on those names and my gut crawled as I realized what I was looking at.

  “This is why there was never much follow-up,” I said thickly. “Why so many of the abducted children didn’t get much attention from the cops. He was bribing them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I stared at the information spread out in front of me, still unable to believe what I was seeing. It didn't seem possible, but I knew Kowalski had done his homework. He never would've brought me any of this if he hadn't known it was accurate. There was no way around it.

  A few more moments passed before I could even speak. “What do I do with this? What do we do?” I was utterly lost.

  “Report it,” Kowalski said. “We can pass it on to the FBI or to your friend Sinclair.”

  I nodded. “Do it. Anonymously. I don’t want to know any more about this. Give it to Sinclair. I trust him to do what's right.”

  Chapter 21

  Dominic

  The last thing I wanted to do was tell her.

  Standing in the door leading out to the patio, I had to fight the urge to turn and run. Not from her, but from reality.

  How could I tell her that my birth father was such a monster?

  That my adopted father was just as evil?

  How did I tell her that I’d come from people like that?

  I had four parents and half of them were total assholes, and one wasn't exactly a shining example of what a good person should be. Why would she want to be with me?

  I didn’t know.

  I just didn’t know.

  But the very things about her that had frustrated me over the past couple weeks now convinced me to tell her the truth. I wanted her to trust me, to share everything with me. How could I possibly do any less?

  But fuck.