Consent (The Loan Shark Duet Book 2)

by Charmaine Pauls

  Not having more words, I exit the car and make my way back inside where I’m met with a very angry Ru.

  He points at my stomach. “No baby. No want no baby. Go.” He waves his hands at me. “Out. Go.”

  My hope shatters, and my world ends. “I’m okay, I promise. It won’t interfere with my work.”

  “Out. Tomorrow. No baby.” He pushes me toward the backroom. “No baby. Tomorrow. Gone.”

  I unlock the door and stumble inside in tears, finding Charlie on the bed playing solitaire. I look around the shabby but clean room with the cheap sheets I bought from the flea market and the boxes covered with colorful cloth that serves as our table. I don’t even know if the car is still in the bushes by the beach. Everything we had is gone, including my job.

  “We’ll be fine,” I say, brushing my hand over Charlie’s head as I walk past him to the two-plate stove. “How about scrambled eggs for dinner?”

  Charlie loves scrambled eggs. I turn my back on him so he doesn’t see my hopeless tears. Gripping the counter, I let them flow. It’s my fault we’re in this mess. If I hadn’t slipped up with my birth control, Charlie would’ve been safe, warm, and in bed with a full belly. I have to find a new way of putting a roof over our heads and food on the table, but I’m so, so tired. I don’t have the strength left to fight this never-ending battle of survival. How long before I let my brother and baby down? Tomorrow, we’re back in the street. Oh, God, what am I going to do?

  Silent sobs shake my shoulders as I lift my eyes to heaven and pray for a miracle.

  Something.

  Anything.

  Gabriel

  It’s been three months and a week since Valentina ran. I thought I knew agony when Sylvia left, but nothing compares to this torture. Not knowing is the worst. Is Valentina alive? Is she well? When I’m not looking for her, I get through the days by focusing on business and through the weekends by spending time with Carly.

  The first breakthrough comes from Magda. I’m pouring over our financial statements when she walks into my study and throws a photo of a vehicle number plate on my desk.

  “This is how she left.”

  I drop everything to look at the picture. For the first time in months, my frozen heart starts to thaw. My fingers tighten on the glossy paper. “How did you find this?”

  “I found Jerry.”

  This reminds me how powerful my mother’s network is. I’ve been trying for months to locate that orange-haired mongrel with no success.

  “Where did you find him? How?”

  “Does it matter?” She perches on the edge of my desk. “Connections.”

  Valentina hasn’t touched her money, which leaves only one explanation. “He gave Valentina a stolen car. False number plate?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And?” I hold my breath.

  “Nothing so far, but I’ve put out word that we’re looking for a car of this description. I have a few friends in the traffic department.”

  Since our initial argument, Magda’s become a lot more cooperative. As she came to acknowledge that Valentina could potentially bear me a child, she’s been putting her full weight behind the effort of tracking Valentina. For the first time ever, I have the sense that our family––at least my mother and I––are standing together. It doesn’t make us like each other, but our tolerance levels are higher.

  Despite my concern and anger, I admire Valentina for staying hidden for so long. The odds have never been in her favor. It was only a matter of time, and that time is now.

  A day later, we have information from the Kwazulu Natal Traffic Department. The good news is they found the vehicle. The bad news is it’s a burnt-out wreck. Today’s flights to all airports in Natal are fully booked, and I can’t wait until tomorrow.

  An hour later, Rhett, Quincy, and I are on our way to Durban. I take the Jaguar while they follow with the Merc so we can split up if needed. I instruct my bodyguards to talk to the people residing in the area where the car has been found, and I visit the site. What I see raises the hair on my arms. The car has been hidden behind some bushes under trees, something clever that Valentina would do, but the state of it makes my skin crawl. There’s dissolution in the vandalised carcass. The tires are missing, the seats have been ripped out, the dash torn to pieces, and the windows shattered. In the midst of the chaos, in a circle of black, burnt grass stands the broken framework of the car. There’s no telling how long ago the destruction took place, but the pungent odor of soot still coats the soil. Is her body somewhere in the bushes, vandalized, too? Even if Magda’s contact at the police department ensured me the area has been thoroughly searched, I can’t get the ghost of that thought out of my head.

  Quincy and Rhett join me an hour later. An old man living in a beachfront house saw a young woman and man matching Valentina and Charlie’s descriptions hanging around the beach, but it’s been days since he last saw them. I’m about to search the dunes when a text message comes in from my hacker.

  Bingo.

  Valentina Haynes visited a private clinic. Today. I stare at her address and phone number that appear on my screen, waiting for the next line to say it’s a hoax, but no other information follows.

  “What is it?” Quincy asks.

  “Rhett, Quincy, bring the car. Follow me.”

  Rhett’s voice is both hopeful and frightened. “You found her?”

  I’m not going to jinx my luck by saying yes. I make my way with long strides to my car. Rhett catches up with me as I open the door.

  He places a hand on my arm. “Gabriel?”

  There are a thousand questions in the way he speaks my name, and I understand each of them. I know what he’s asking. “I’m not going to hurt her. If they’re both there, take Charlie for a drink until I give you further instructions.”

  He drops his hand, letting me get into the car.

  I send the address to Anton, my PI, with instructions to get information on the dwelling. I want to know what kind of building it is, who owns it, and if tenants are registered.

  The few kilometers I drive to the address on my GPS are the longest of my life. Every single traffic light is red and seems to take forever to change. It’s early evening when we pull up in front of a dry-cleaning store. The store is already closed. My spirits sink. I pull up the information Anton sent to my phone. The business is owned by a Chinese immigrant. If he gave Valentina a job, she’s not registered as an employee in his records. I get out and motion for Quincy and Rhett to follow, weapons pulled in case. The area isn’t as bad as the city center, but you never know. If need be, I’ll wait out here all night until the shop opens in the morning. It won’t hurt to look around in the meantime.

  We move around the building. A light shines from the single window in the backroom, but a curtain obscures the view. My pulse racing, I test the doorknob. Locked. A nod at Rhett communicates my command. He knows what to do. Stepping back, he takes aim.

  3

  Valentina

  Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I take a few deep breaths and get a hold on myself. One thing at a time. Dinner first and then packing. I’m breaking the eggs in a bowl when a shadow moves across the curtained window. My heartbeat picks up and warning prickles pop over my skin. Maybe it was someone passing by in the street. Holding my breath, I prick up my ears and sharpen my gaze. No sound comes from outside. There’s no further movement. Several seconds pass with nothing happening. I’m almost letting the air out of my lungs in relief when the doorknob turns.

  The action is quiet and ominous. Someone is trying to break in.

  I can’t move. Escape. We need to escape, but the door to the shop is locked, and Ru is the only one with a key. Five more seconds and then the adrenalin takes effect. I drop the whisk, looking for a weapon. At the same time, I gauge Charlie’s position. He’s still on the bed, which puts him closer to the door. Grabbing the vegetable knife, I put myself with quiet steps between Charlie and the door. Thank God for Rhett’s self-defense
training. My experience is limited, and my physical state is weak. My only chance is to catch our attacker off-guard. As soon as the door opens, I’ll stab. My hand holding the insufficient weapon shakes. Charlie looks up and notices the knife. Before I can silence him, he yells. His scream breaks my concentration. A loud thud falls on the door. The doorframe rattles. Whoever is outside now knows we know he’s there. The element of surprise is lost. There’s no more breaking in quietly. He’s kicking down our door.

  When the door flies into the room a horrible spell of déjà vu washes over me. For the second time tonight I’m frozen, but this time I’m frozen in a moment in the past. Like in my memory, Gabriel steps over the broken wood into the room. Rhett and Quincy are on his heels, but I can only focus on the man I ran from and the gun in his hand.

  He found us.

  He’s going to kill us.

  Charlie stares at the three men, confusion marring his features. Since our first violent encounter with Gabriel, after all the visits to Kris’ place, Charlie considers Gabriel a friend. Quincy and Rhett block the only exit while Gabriel crosses the floor with his characteristic limp. He wears a black suit and white shirt without a tie. His body is as broad and big as I remember, and there’s menace in every line of each rigid muscle. The dull light of the room isn’t enough to wash out the scars on his cheek. He missed a haircut or two. Wisps of curls reach his ears.

  He stops in front of me and looks down at me with the darkest expression I’ve ever seen. From the way his chest heaves, whatever is going on inside his head is intense. Retribution is intense. So is killing. There’s only one thing I can do to try and save our lives.

  I fall down on my knees and fold my arms around his legs. Looking up at him with all the begging I’m capable of, I whisper, “Please, Gabriel.”

  The gun in his hand shakes.

  I can’t control my shivering. Even my voice trembles. “It’s not Charlie’s fault. Please don’t hurt him.”

  “Come on, buddy,” Rhett says, taking Charlie’s arm, “let’s go grab a milkshake.”

  “Milk–milkshake.” Charlie doesn’t hesitate. He trusts Gabriel and therefore his friends.

  They’re going to shoot my brother in the back alley. I start to cry, hugging Gabriel’s legs harder. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything, anything you want.”

  His stance is passive as he regards me. The only movement is a tick in his temple. “They’re just taking him for a drink.”

  So that Gabriel can shoot me without Charlie bearing witness?

  Rhett and Quincy exit the room with my brother, leaving me alone with Gabriel. My tears fall faster. My pride won’t let me grovel for myself, but I’ll do anything for my baby. Degrading myself like I’ve never done, I kneel down farther and kiss his feet, my tears spoiling his expensive shoes.

  “Please, Gabriel, I beg you. Please, don’t kill us. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry for running, but I didn’t have a choice.”

  My breath catches in fear when he grips my hair and guides my head up to meet his eyes again. Caressing my scalp with the barrel of the gun, he takes a plastic bag from his pocket and dangles it in front of my face. “Is this why you ran?”

  As my eyes focus on the object, an involuntary gasp escapes my throat. He knows. I lift my gaze slowly back to his. The ice in his blue eyes pierces my heart.

  I shake my head, forcing out through dry lips, “I didn’t fall pregnant on purpose. I swear to God. Gabriel, you have to believe me. I don’t know how it happened, but I promise you it was an accident.”

  He hooks his hands under my arms and pulls me to my feet. His voice is quiet. Dejected, almost. “I believe you.”

  I sag in his arms. How can he be so blasé? The life I carry means nothing to him. He’s still going to kill me. The only question remaining is how. Gathering inhumane strength, I push away and stand up straight. “Are you going to shoot me?”

  He regards me with a strange light in his eyes. “No, Valentina, I’m not going to shoot you.”

  I lift my chin a fraction, ignoring the warm tears that trickle down my cheeks and drip on my sweater. “How are you going to do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Kill me. Strangling? A knife? Poison? Or will you break my neck?”

  The ice in his eyes splinters. The fragments turn dark. “I didn’t say I was going to kill you.”

  My thin bravery slips. “What then?” I throw the words at him. “Torture me?”

  “I prefer to call it punishment.” He grabs my face and digs his fingers into my cheeks. “For running. For putting your life in danger. For not talking to me before stupidly fleeing.”

  More tears spill from my eyes, running over his fingers. “I thought you wouldn’t believe me. I knew you’d be angry about the baby.”

  His hold slackens. “I am angry about the baby.” His shoulders drop as he lets me go. “You should’ve talked to me.”

  He’ll force me to do what I feared all along.

  “What now?” I whisper.

  “Now I take you back to where you belong. We’ll work through the rest when we’re home.”

  Meaning he’ll make me get an abortion. Cupping my hands over my stomach, I take two steps back.

  “I beg you, Gabriel.” My lips tremble violently. “Please, don’t hurt my baby.”

  When the last word leaves my mouth, the moment freezes. Gabriel’s eyes widen, and his face pales, the color making the embossed scars on his cheek stand out with an angry red. Time stretches as he stares at me in shock. The horror I never wanted to see is etched on his face, giving me insight into his soul. No, he wasn’t taking me home for an abortion. He hoped I would’ve taken care of it, by now. He’s disappointed the problem is still here, growing in my belly.

  The spell keeping him immobile breaks, and he limps back to me. We’re two broken people in a twisted situation with an innocent life trapped between us, a life I already love more than my own.

  “Please,” I beg when he towers over me, “I’ll take your torture or punishment, and I promise to never run from you again, no matter what, if you let my baby live.”

  “Our baby,” he says harshly.

  He’s right. It’s his baby, too, but we aren’t two people in a relationship who make consensual decisions. Gabriel decides.

  “Yes, our baby,” I agree. “Don’t make me do something I can’t live with. Please.”

  “You want this baby,” he says with a tinge of disbelief, “knowing how it’ll complicate your life?”

  “It’s not his fault he was conceived. It can’t be undone, and I’ll deal with it, whatever it takes.”

  His left eye jumps, and his nostrils flare. I have no idea what he’s thinking, only that it’s upsetting. I understand why he’s unsettled. I know how this must look. Many young girls in my neighborhood got themselves knocked up to catch a man or to escape a debt. It must be hard for him to give me the benefit of the doubt and to battle the idea of becoming an unwilling father.

  “I won’t ask anything from you,” I continue hastily, biting back my tears. “I won’t make this problem yours. You have nothing to worry about. I don’t expect your money or time. I will take care of everything. You won’t even know the child is there.”

  All I see is incomprehension as he digests my words. For some reason, he seems confused––it’s a lot to take in––but as he doesn’t object immediately, I allow myself to feel hope.

  “Please?” I ask softly.

  “Why?” is all he asks in return, as if he can’t get his head around my request.

  “Because I already love him.”

  “Him?”

  “I have a feeling it’s a boy.”

  He says nothing. We stand, facing each other, while unnamable emotions play off between us. I hold my breath as I wait for his answer. My life, Charlie’s life, and my baby’s life are in Gabriel’s hands. The next word that falls from his mouth will be the verdict that decides my child’s future, the difference betw
een life and death, and I can’t do a goddamn thing about it, because I’m still Gabriel’s property for the next nine years.

  The sound I’m waiting for doesn’t come, but he gives me better. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his body. The minute his strength envelops me I collapse, my knees caving in while my hands fist in the shirt under his jacket. It doesn’t matter that I can’t stand, because he is there to catch me. I breathe in his spicy and clean scent, enormous relief making me dizzy and, now that I’m no longer alone, also leaving me weak.

  “I was so afraid,” I whisper, letting out a tremulous breath and clutching his clothes as if they’re my lifeline. “I was so afraid every day.”

  “Shh. I’m here now.”

  His hands are broad and strong on my back, and I sink deeper into the strength he provides. The way he holds me is hesitant. I sense he wants to say more, but after another heartbeat, he scoops me up in his arms, snatches my bag from the makeshift table, and carries me to his car.

  I know men like him, and I know the gift he just offered is greater than any I could’ve hoped for. More than believing me when I said I didn’t fall pregnant on purpose, he forgave me for running, and he’s allowing me to have a baby he doesn’t want. He didn’t have to. He could’ve dropped me off at a clinic with instructions and fetched me back as his toy. Men like Gabriel don’t do well with pregnant toys. A big belly won’t serve his needs. Or maybe I’m done being his toy. Whatever the case, I’m filled with relief. I lean my head on his chest in gratitude.

  He opens the door, lowers me in the passenger seat, and fits my seatbelt. He removes his jacket and dumps the gun in the cubbyhole. The jacket goes on the console between our seats and my bag at my feet. When he takes the wheel, I dare to ask again, “Charlie?”

  He squeezes my knee. “Don’t fret, beautiful. He’ll be fine.”

  After fastening his seatbelt, he steers us into the traffic and dials Rhett on the hands-free kit with a single instruction. “Take Charlie home.”