Harkham's Choice (Harkham's Series Book 2)

by Chanse Lowell

  With Adam, everything was different. She was definitely out of her element. This was not the type of sex she knew.

  It was lovemaking without a doubt. Sometimes it baffled her.

  She’d always thought all men wanted to skip through as much foreplay as possible, and get down to the grind and the meat.

  The lighter and more careful she was, the more she had to have him, and have him now! It fueled her raging fire inside for him.

  “Five hundred and forty-five, minus—”

  “Try to hum instead. It usually works better for you,” she reminded him.

  He was holding onto the seam of his pants on his right and had his left hand crushing hers into his other side.

  She fought back the urge to rub her pussy on him. He was so alluring like this—his lips trembling and his eyes wide with anticipation.

  She nibbled her lip instead.

  The cab rolled to a stop.

  “Uncle Peter’s house,” she informed him since his eyes were shut.

  He needed answers, and she was going to get them for him if he was too nervous to enter this home.

  She stroked his knee with her free hand. “You coming?”

  “I don’t know,” he whimpered.

  “You don’t have to. You can stay here, and I’ll—”

  “No!” he exclaimed, and he shoved the cab door open, bolting through it.

  She paid the driver and thanked him for being so quick. This had been a split-second decision to come here.

  They were in the Louvre when Adam saw a painting and his face drained of all color.

  It looked like his mom, he’d said. And that was all it took. He wanted to find her while they were in France.

  A two-hour drive later, and they were staring at his uncle’s door.

  Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap . . .

  She knocked for him. His gaze was on his shoes. She could see him mouthing the numbers once more, but he was silent.

  The door opened eventually, after what felt like an eternity of Adam now holding his breath and turning a slight shade of blue.

  “Peter Richards?” she asked the tall, graying man in front of her.

  “Yeah, who’s asking,” he said with a hint of a French accent.

  “I’m Mari. Mari Latham, and this is Adam, Sarah’s son,” she answered.

  “Wow, I, uh . . .” He stepped back and ran a hand over his face. “Come in, please.” He opened the door wider and welcomed them in.

  Adam had yet to look at his uncle.

  They took a seat in his comfortable living room.

  “This room looks like my mom,” Adam commented. His eyes moved up slowly, and he found his uncle’s face. “Can you please give me some answers? I need to know where she is.”

  “She’ll be back in about ten minutes. I wish I could tell you where she is, but I don’t think she’d like that,” Peter said with a doleful look. “Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

  Her mouth was dry, and she figured Adam’s was too, so she answered for both of them. “Yes, please. Water would be great.”

  Peter left. Mari rubbed circles on Adam’s back as he leaned forward, threatening to form himself into a tight ball. She hummed his song he made for her.

  “What if she doesn’t want to see me?” he whispered.

  “She will. And if she doesn’t”—she shrugged a little—“then we’ll leave, and we won’t ever come back here. But at least you’ll know you tried.”

  “I tried? But . . . But I want answers, not just tried,” he said, his eyes anguished.

  “We can’t control what she does, but think about it—if she really didn’t welcome us, would your uncle have let us in? I’m sure he would respect her wishes, and if she said not to let us in if we ever showed up, he would have left us outside, staring at his door.”

  Peter came back with two glasses of water and set them down on the coffee table in front of them. “You look an awful lot like your dad, you know that?”

  Adam gave a hint of a glare. “How would you know?”

  “He stops by here all the time. If you want to know what I think—that man’s still crazy in love with Sarah, but she can’t stop thinking about her last ex—Dustin. Or at least she talks about him a lot.” Peter leaned against the couch across from the one they were sitting on.

  “Then why’d she leave?” Adam asked, hissing it through his teeth.

  “She had to. She was a wreck when she got here. I had to help her get through—”

  “It’s not like somebody had a gun pointed at her head,” Adam interrupted.

  Peter’s face went whiter than the walls.

  He pushed himself off the couch. “Look, I’m not the one that should be giving you answers. She can do that when she gets here. If you’ll excuse me—I’m gonna get back to work in my office, and you two can sit here. Holler if you need something,” Peter said, then left the room.

  Adam curled his body around Mari’s, and his tight embrace turned into a manic need. His kisses grew urgent, and almost indecent.

  “I need you!” he cried.

  “Adam, we can’t do that here,” she said. “Uuuuunnnngh.” Why now? Why here? The feral beast inside him was choosing now to rear its head?

  She wanted to punch herself in the gut for turning him down, but his mother walking in on him doing obscene things to her was not how she wanted to meet her.

  “Pete! I’m back. She was doing much better today,” a feminine voice called from the kitchen. A door slammed shut.

  They could hear Peter run to her and whisper a few things.

  There was an audible gasp. Adam’s hand clutched Mari’s into his side.

  “It’s gonna be fine,” Mari reassured him.

  “How? She hates me. I hurt her, and she left,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

  “Nobody hates you.”

  He was about to protest, but a petite, dark-haired woman entered the room and her piercing green eyes tore right through Adam as he lurched off the couch and tackled his mother into a hug.

  “Mommy!” he sobbed right away.

  She cried too and rocked him as she petted the back of his head. “I’ve missed you so much!”

  “Me, too. You should’ve never gone,” he said.

  “I had to.”

  He pulled away. “Why? I want to know why!”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you, but maybe you should introduce me to your lovely wife first,” his mom said, turning her attention to Mari.

  Mari had never felt more exposed than now. Facing Dustin was easy compared to this.

  There was this purity in her look that Adam had as well, but hers was filled with wisdom and a palpable sadness Mari could almost reach out and hold in her hands.

  “This is Mari Latham—used to be Cole—and I always liked that name, because she’s really pretty and it sounds like a poem or a song, don’t you think?” Adam rambled.

  He took his mom’s hand, then took his Mari’s in his other. He put the two women’s hands together.

  What was Mari supposed to do? Shake it? Hold it?

  She bowed her head and had to look away. There was a blazing fire of goodness in this tiny woman.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Mari said.

  “Well, you are an amazing woman. I can see that already.” She let go of Mari’s hand and hugged her. “You love my son, and that makes you a goddess in my book.”

  “How can I not? He’s incredibly easy to love and be with—well, when I’m not thinking about how I can never quite measure up to his level of perfection,” Mari confessed. There was this overwhelming feeling like she had to tell her everything. “He loves me even though I’ve been such an awful person most of my life.”

  “You found your way to him and back into the light—and that’s what matters,” his mom said—no sang. Her voice filled the air like beautiful music.

  Adam wrangled them both into a group hug.

  When they broke away, Adam sat down and pulled Mari onto
his lap.

  It was . . . new and odd, but she figured if that was what he needed, she’d go along.

  He nuzzled into her hair.

  “Can you tell us what happened? Why’d you leave?” Mari asked. It was embarrassing prying like this, but they didn’t have days to flush this information out.

  “It was Samara. She had a knife, and she . . .” His mom shook her head and wet her bottom lip. “She cut me—sliced open wounds that had been stitched up from the piano incident. I was already on such heavy pain medication, I could barely move or get away from her.”

  Adam winced. “I’m sorry I did th—”

  “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong,” his mom said. “I didn’t blame you then, and I don’t blame you now. Samara said I was ruining her life and yours.”

  “Why didn’t you turn her in for that?” Mari asked. She gripped her thighs. “Get her some psychiatric help?”

  “I tried. Nobody believed me. Samara wasn’t going to bully me. I figured she would never really harm me—just wanted to scare me when she knew I was helpless. But then she drained my private bank account, the one Dustin didn’t even know about, and anytime I tried to be there for Adam over the next few weeks, she’d threaten to harm other members of the family. She scared me to death when I saw what she was capable of. I knew if I left, it would stop. She said not to say a word—to simply go. So I did.”

  “How is that even possible when she was only eight?” Mari asked. It sounded made up.

  “I don’t know how she was doing all this. Maybe she had help from an adult? I have no idea—but that’s the only thing I can come up with for how she even got bank access.” His mom blinked with a blank stare.

  Mari’s gut was twisting. Something in Sarah’s expression was off. Mari wasn’t quite sure his mother was telling them the whole truth, and it all sounded too fantastical.

  “But things eventually got worse, so your leaving didn’t help solve anything.” Mari told his mother about the girl Samara attacked that had tried to take nudey pictures of Adam in the girls’ bathroom at a previous high school. She also shared about how she’d threatened Rory with a knife to the groin and bribed him, Kendra and Tara to make Adam and Mari’s lives miserable to separate them.

  “She’s not telling you the worst,” Adam said, swiping his bangs out of his eyes. “She stabbed Mari. Attacked her one night right after I got Mari back. I shoved Sammie off, then she fled. That’s when she came here probably.”

  “Yeah, I’d heard about that. I’m so sorry that happened.” His mother’s voice was shaky, but still her eyes were guarded.

  Mari still wasn’t sure she was buying this entire story.

  A moment later, his mother’s shoulder’s drooped and she slid into the opposing couch.

  “Did you hear about how her boyfriend Daniel messed up our wedding day by trying to hurt my wife? He had a gun, and I had to stab his wrist with an ice pick to stop him. It was bloody and messy, and now he’s in jail.”

  “I knew about that—she told me,” Sarah admitted. “So deranged. I couldn’t believe she’d arranged that. I don’t think Sammie’s bad—just misguided.”

  Mari’s breath trapped in her throat. Misguided? This was more than getting a little off track and making a minor poor choice. Samara was deliberately planning to kill her family. She was beyond psychotic.

  “She did? You talk to her?” Adam’s voice broke.

  “Yeah, I just returned from seeing her,” his mom answered. “She’s in a mental institution here. She came after me—tried to kill me and herself, too, but Peter managed to stop her before she could do either one. She had a knife in my ribs—barely missed my heart.” His mom rubbed the spot where it must’ve happened. “She slit her wrists, but it was more of a skin wound—not deep enough to do anything but make a mess.”

  “Are they . . . Is she okay there?” Adam asked. His hands were on Mari’s waist, shaking her with his trembling.

  “She has some rough days. When she heard about Daniel being locked away, she went nuts that day. It was pretty bad.” His mom’s eyes teared up.

  “Can we see her?” Adam asked, moving Mari off his lap. He took her hand.

  Mari stopped breathing. He wanted to see his sister after all of that? After hearing she didn’t stop with their bloody wedding, but tried to take out his mom, too? Obviously there were a lot of lies they were being fed, since Daniel had told them their wedding day that Samara was in jail for attacking Sarah.

  But wow. Adam didn’t seem to care about any of that and still cared about Samara, even after saying in the past he wanted to kill her. None of that mattered now, as evidenced by the glowing look in his eyes.

  Her heart flooded with warmth for this gentle, sweet, caring man next to her. The fact he could even talk about her right now said volumes about how loving he was.

  “Let me make some phone calls. I think I can get you in, but prepare yourself—she looks different, and she sounds . . . Well, I guess you’ll see for yourself.” His mom’s eyes softened.

  Sarah got up and made some phone calls. A half hour later, she had it all settled. They were going to see his little sister.

  “Mom?” Adam asked before they were about to leave.

  “Yes?” His mom’s eyes were soft and a little wary.

  “How come you didn’t come to my graduation or wedding? Didn’t you like me then?” His eyes searched hers.

  Her face lifted into a gentle smile. She cupped his cheek and kissed it. “Oh, honey, I never stopped loving you. I couldn’t leave Samara. She was struggling. They actually had to put her in a straightjacket on those two days. She was screaming non-stop about how she needed to see you and save you from your demon whore.”

  Mari flinched.

  “Sorry, but you should know . . . that’s what she calls you. She’ll probably scream it in your face,” Sarah warned.

  “I can handle it. I’ve been called much worse than that.” And with her final statement, they left to see Samara with his mom, putting their trust in her and getting in her car.

  * * *

  Getting in to see Samara was a never-ending series of more phone calls and waiting. They signed papers and had to visit with her therapist first.

  They were told how to behave, which subjects to avoid, and most of all what to do if Sam became unhinged.

  Adam was going to ignore all of that. He was here to find out what the hell Sam had been thinking, and if she really had been the one to sic Daniel after them.

  At the last minute, before being admitted into the visiting area with Sam, they were told only two people could be with her at a time. Mari opted to stay behind, saying he should be with his mom as much as possible while they were here in town.

  He took his mom’s hand and gave her a weak smile.

  She smiled back in such a way that it filled him with hope.

  They were brought out into a nice, big yard area with shade trees, a few scattered benches and other various seating areas surrounding tables.

  Sam sat turned away from them, under a really large tree, wearing a baseball cap.

  A cold tremor ran down his spine as he thought about how she looked the last time he’d seen her and how she’d left his Mari lying in a pool of blood.

  “Can you ask her questions? I don’t know if I can. She hurt Mari really bad—cut her like she did to you,” Adam said.

  His mom nodded and cupped her hand on top of their conjoined ones.

  “Samara,” Mom called out.

  Sam turned around, ripped off the hat and Adam gasped.

  Her hair had been hacked all over the place and had pink streaks in some random spots. She always spent a lot of time on her appearance, and this looked scary.

  Her clothes had rips all over. Did she put those in herself or if did she fight with somebody and they did it?

  Sam waved, but her face was frowning and looked set that way. Her nails were short and painted black.

  “Adam,” Sam squeaked, staring at h
im with misted eyes.

  “Hi.” He wanted to turn away. This was not his sister. He squinted, hoping the view would change, but it remained the same. “What happened to you?”

  “You happened to me,” she responded.

  “I want you to know, Adam asked me to talk to you for him,” his mom informed her.

  “No. I changed my mind. I want to say it all myself,” Adam said.

  “I’ll give you some space then,” his mom said and wandered a few feet away.

  “What do you mean I happened to you?” His brow wrinkled. “That doesn’t make sense. You’ve known me all your life. I didn’t just happen to you.”

  “Adam—listen to me, and try to understand from my point of view.” Sam sighed and looked away like she wanted out of here. “Who always dealt with you and the fallout when you’d have an episode? Me.”

  “I know that,” he said.

  “And who do you think is going to take care of you after you leave Dad’s place or he can’t take it anymore?” Her eyes narrowed, and she gripped her fingers into the tree bark behind her as she leaned her back into it.

  “Mari.”

  “Ehhhhh. Wrong!” Her voice was shrill. “Me. Mari’s not committed to this. She’s known you less than a year. She doesn’t know what to do when you get ahold of sugar and are bouncing off the walls. She has no idea what to do about a full-grown, exceptionally strong man with uncontrollable ADHD.”

  “She knows how to do all those things, and she does it better than you!” He leaned forward, and his fists clenched.

  “Who cares? I’m telling you—she’ll walk out like Mom did,” she said. “And I was not about to let her ruin my life by giving you donuts and soda and other crap that turns you into a psycho. I gave you stability. You’ll have a decent life with me—able to enjoy being an uncle when Daniel and I get married and take care of you in our home.”

  “Sam . . .” He shook his head. “This is not reality. I’m never gonna live with you.”

  “Then who? Zach?” She snorted. “Get real. He’s almost as indulgent and stupid as Mari in regard to helping you function at the best level possible.”