An Embarrassment of Monsters: A Dark Romantic Suspense Novel (Alace Sweets Book 3)

by MariaLisa deMora

  An hour later, he sat opposite the boy at the breakfast bar, having carried him there and placed him carefully on a stool. Owen’s sweatshirt was on the boy’s frame, plucked from his own body when Kelly had shivered. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toast with a smear of butter and jam sat on plates in front of each of them.

  Kelly was perched on top of his stool, knees drawn up and under the shirt, eating with his hands. Utilizing a fork was beyond him in this frame of mind, and Owen didn’t tell him he needed to do otherwise. No need to put more stress on the boy when it simply wasn’t necessary.

  “Is there anything else about the man you think I should know?” Kelly had expressed a strong interest in doing what he could to help Owen, and while he’d already shared a lot, Owen wondered if there was more the boy might have to say if given the opening. “Do you remember what his normal routine was when he’d arrive at the cabin? Little details can really help me.”

  Kelly’s eyes glittered behind the fall of hair covering part of his face. He studied Owen, paused in the act of taking a bite of toast. “Like what does he do?” Owen nodded, and Kelly sat upright, tossing the hair out of his eyes. With his wrists balanced on his knees, the food dangled, forgotten as he thought hard about Owen’s question. “Before he gets there, he checks the batteries. They’re in a wooden box outside the wire. He checks those, and if we didn’t hear his truck beforehand, we’d hear the hum as he turned up the voltage. The collars let us know.” He raised a hand, fingers gliding down his bare neck, a smear of jam left in their wake. “That way, we’re waiting at the porch when he drives up, like he likes. Checking his pack, he called it. If one of us was sick and couldn’t go to the porch, he’d go looking for us. The shed for the pack is positioned so he can see it from his back porch, but not the front. He didn’t like it if he had to go looking for us.”

  “The batteries keeping the electric fence live are outside the area secured by the wire itself?” That made a brutal kind of sense, actually. If the power source was within the grasp of the older kids, they would have made quick work of disabling it and escaping. “So he stops to do maintenance and then drives into the yard?” Kelly nodded, and Owen let the boy see his pleasure, giving him a quick smile in response. “That’s great. Yeah, that’s exactly the kind of thing I need to know. What about other visitors? Did he ever bring anyone with him when he came?” This was a fishing expedition to see if any of the same-interest buyers had ever come calling. “Or was it always just Earl, I mean the man?”

  “It was just the man. A couple of times he left with one of the pack in the crates in the back of his truck, but while me and Shiloh were there, he never brought anyone in with him. Could hear him talking to people in the cabin, but they weren’t actually there. Like a phone call or something.” Kelly took a bite of the toast, shifting the bread to one side of his mouth, talking as he chewed. “Both times when he took one of the pack away, it was older kids, ones who’d been there a while.” He swallowed, took another bite, and performed the same process of shifting it to one cheek, chipmunk-style. “Hey, Owen, you think he took them to the same place he took me? You think they’re out there, waiting for someone to find them?” Kelly’s bright eyes dimmed. “You don’t think he’d take Shiloh there, do you? She’d be afraid in the woods. She’s scared of the dark and being alone.”

  “No, Kelly. I don’t think he’s taken Shiloh to the forest. As to whether he’s ever taken any of the children to where he dropped you off, I can’t say. I didn’t see any of them yesterday.” He shifted a strip of bacon from his plate to Kelly’s, enjoying the boy’s appreciative if brief smile. “I did see you. I’m glad I was there when I was. Another thirty minutes and I’d’ve been walking away, so I’m real glad you woke up when you did.”

  “So your gatherers are working right now?” That was how he’d explained how he was finding the information needed for him to plan a successful attack on Earl’s compound. The description of the scripts set free on the darknet to search and find all of Earl’s vulnerabilities had morphed into Owen having helpers. Gatherers, as Kelly had nicknamed them. “When will you know that they’re done?”

  “I’ll get an alert.” As he spoke, the phone in his pocket buzzed against his leg, and he held his breath. It had been a simple one-second signal. If it were followed by a more complex signal, it would indicate his searches had been successful. If the one-second pulse continued, Owen would need to return to his computer to see what else needed attention. The device buzzed again, another single-second vibration. Here we go. “Hey, bud, you stay there and finish eating, okay? I gotta check on something quick.” He shoved his plate towards Kelly. “I’m done, so if you want more bacon, help yourself.”

  He stood and walked around the breakfast bar, and couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to smooth his hand over Kelly’s skull, fingers threading through the boy’s thick hair. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Kelly made a sound, his mouth crammed full of toast as his hands stretched towards the food Owen had left on his plate. “Stay here.”

  In his office, he flipped the monitor on and angled it away from the doorway, just in case Kelly followed him faster than expected. A quick review showed him Earl’s vehicle on the move, the man’s mass framed in the driver-side window. Owen watched the route taken, keying up a real-time map to track his progress. It was only a couple of minutes later that his destination became clear. The man was headed to the compound.

  Shit.

  Owen couldn’t wait for additional information. Whatever advantage he’d had gained by gathering knowledge had run out. There was no more time. He needed to leave now and drive like hell to beat the man there, sort out what kind of a coup he could stage given the presence of so many children, and locate and rescue Shiloh. The other kids too, of course, but for them, the rescue would entail calling the authorities. Owen intended Kelly and Shiloh to disappear as if they’d never been Earl’s victims.

  “Think like Alace.” He rocked his head back and stared at the ceiling, gaze tracing the faint patterns he could make out in the textured surface. “How can I slow the man’s roll?” He could dispatch a fake BOLO easily enough, but he wanted to slow the man, not keep him from showing up entirely. The vehicle’s age was working against him, no onboard systems to hijack and foil performance. “Think, man.” He could coordinate a blockade that would be looking for a different vehicle, effectively slowing Earl without making him abandon his trip to the remote and isolated cabin. Hmmmm.

  “Or I can let him make his little trip, and trip-trap him at the actual compound.” Owen straightened in the chair and stared at the monitor, a plan starting to take shape. He clicked the mouse and navigated to the imagery of the compound, measuring the distance of the private road to the cabin from the country highway. Earl wouldn’t be restricted to the circumference of the entrapping electric fence. If Owen came up on the backside of the cabin and raised the man’s interest, he could easily draw the asshole out. “Maybe I’m trying to make this Alace-elegant.” He’d never intended Earl to live through the encounter. “Why make it harder than it needs to be?”

  “Kelly,” he called, pushing away from the computer desk as he leaned over, shutting the system down. “You still want to go with me to save Shiloh?”

  ***

  Alace

  Eyes closed, Alace let her chin drop to her chest as she took in a deep breath. They were still waiting on the anesthesiologist to arrive, which meant no epidural yet, and the full fury of each contraction remained her current reality.

  She licked her lips. Something cold touched the edge of her mouth and Alace jerked back, her hand coming up defensively. A cup and spoon went flying, ice scattering across the blanket covering her bottom half. Eric stared at her, a growing smirk stretching his lips.

  “Shut it.” Alace resumed her previous position, keeping her eyes slitted open, this time to watch for another approach. In the three hours they’d been at the hospital so far, Eric had done something similar twice before. If
she didn’t know better, she’d think he was baiting her somehow. “Let me breathe.”

  “What can I do, Alace?” The stark helplessness in his voice made her look directly at him. It wasn’t often Eric showed any uncertainty, but the smile was erased completely, his brows drawn together in a clump of angst that told her this was perhaps more uncomfortable for him, if for a different reason. “I want to do something.”

  “There’s nothing for either of us to do.” The progression of her labor had slowed during the trip to the hospital, something the labor nurse told Eric wasn’t surprising. It had given Alace a chance to feel less out of control for a few minutes.

  The cycle of contractions had grown familiar at last, and the waves of pain and pressure were predictable. She was currently in the all-too-brief lull between the peaks, her short opportunity to regroup and ready herself. Alace had found the progression oddly comforting, and she’d joked to Eric that it was nice to know her body knew what to do, even if she didn’t have a clue. He hadn’t found it amusing. She hadn’t found his attitude amusing, either, so they were even on that one at least.

  “Ah.” Alace grabbed the rails on the sides of the bed as a strong contraction stiffened the walls of her uterus. “Oh, man.” She pulled in quick breaths through her nose, blowing them out in a controlled fashion. “Oh, Jesus.” The muscles in her legs tightened involuntarily, the intense spasm causing her heels to drag up the bed until they were planted on the thin mattress. “God, Eric.” Alace dipped her chin towards her neck, gaze fixed on the changing topography of her belly. She grunted and pulled, simultaneously pushing with her feet. “This is different.” Each word came out on a bitten-off howl, the pain threatening to break her in half.

  “Alace.” Eric’s voice was thin with concern. “Don’t, baby.”

  “What?” She didn’t have time to wonder what he meant, intent on following her body’s lead down this rabbit hole of relief-seeking that felt so right.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.” His hand covered hers on the railing. “Let go.”

  “What?” Nothing he said made sense. His fingers were cold, her body like a furnace in contrast, with sweat beading across her forehead and trailing down her temples.

  “Alace, stop it.” Eric’s other hand landed on her stomach, the bump that was the cause of all this, the temporary prison for their child who was now fighting against her body to make her way into the world.

  He can’t stop it. The thought burst into her mind fully formed. The course of her labor had changed, and now it felt like being swept along in an avalanche. She couldn’t stop this now if she wanted.

  This is his fault. Men and their penises were the cause of pregnancies all over the world. Sure, she’d talked about a baby in a someday way, but she hadn’t meant now. Hadn’t meant today.

  The contraction slowed, easing slightly, and Alace deliberately turned her head to face Eric, baring her teeth at him. “Fuckin’ make me.”

  The renewed expression of uncertainty on his face would have been comical in any other setting. Right now, Alace failed to find any sliver of humor inside her. She kicked off the blankets and got onto her knees, steadying herself by using the same handrails she’d been yanking on only moments before.

  “Alace, what are you doing?” He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him briefly, straightening when another contraction surged over her like a never-ending tide of pain. Eric’s grip balanced her, and Alace gave up control to him, trusting him to shore her up without being told or asked. “Baby, should I get the nurse?”

  Head swinging back and forth, Alace bent double, groaning deeply, the volume and timbre of the guttural sound shocking as it rolled out of her. She reached between her legs and felt her sex bulging.

  “We need some help in here.” He didn’t move, didn’t shift away from where his strength kept her upright, but Eric called out loudly. “We need some help in here, please.”

  Alace had no attention for anything other than him and her body, and this thing they were going through. She kept her hand between her legs, feeling the ebb and flow of the baby’s descent as the contraction grew more intense. The pain was inexorable, all-consuming, so much so that Alace didn’t flinch when other hands landed on her body, gloved hands deftly exploring alongside her own. There was a hum of conversation she couldn’t be bothered with, dialed in on the changes in the process she’d become so accustomed to.

  Demanding touches tugged and pulled, and Alace went with them, the contraction over, for now, her muscles like noodles, bones like jelly. On her back but propped high with pillows and Eric’s arm around her shoulders, she stared down her body and into a pair of bright eyes she remembered. The doctor looked at her over the top edge of a mask, the crinkles next to his eyes exposing the smile hidden behind the paper.

  “Ready to have this baby, Alace?” He paused and appeared to be sincerely waiting on a response, so Alace nodded once, the movement short and sharp. “Okay, let’s do this thing. I’ll need your help, Alace. We’re going to work together to make it happen.” Another pause, ended when she nodded a second time, the same abrupt movement from before. “When I tell you to, I want you to push exactly like you were before. We’ll do this together in a little more controlled fashion than you’d worked out yourself.”

  The monitor next to the bed beeped, and the graph line took on a hockey-stick incline. Alace took in as deep a breath as she could manage, maintaining that eye contact with the doctor the whole time. “Ready.”

  “Okay then, here we go. I want you to push, Alace. Push hard. Push. Daddy, help Mommy sit up a little more.” Eric’s arm flexed and lifted her, increasing the angle of her body. She reached out, fingers grasping at nothing as she bore down. “Push, Alace. Push, push, push, push. Perfect. Keep it up, this little one is as eager as you are. Okay, stop pushing, you can stop now. Goodness, if the old wives’ tales are true, I bet you’ve had an upset stomach through the pregnancy, because this little one has a head full of thick hair.”

  Eric eased her back against the pillows, leaning far over the bed to stay in contact with her. She looked up and saw his gaze was fixed on the doctor, much as hers had been.

  It went that way for a few more contractions, until Alace was aware of something shifting inside her. The intense pressure, the brutal pain, the groaning effort of pushing and pushing and pushing gave way in an instant to a liquid relief. Her head dipped forwards, and she watched—oh my God—as the doctor lifted something—that’s my baby—and cradled the infant in his arms, head angled down as he deftly manipulated something. Alace experienced a full-body shiver as the room filled with a coo, then a cough, and finally a rising, thin wail.

  “It’s a girl.”

  Hands were on Alace, adjusting the front of her gown, snaps pulled apart to bare her chest, and then the baby, still slightly bloody and wet and hiccupping with tiny, beautiful cries, was placed there. Skin to skin, Alace wrapped her arms around her daughter, cradling her close, holding her tenderly, staring down into a tiny face she’d only seen in shades of gray before.

  “Oh, Eric.” She raised a trembling hand, drawing a single fingertip along the baby’s nose, allowing it to gently bump over teeny lips and the curve of a petite chin. “She’s…”

  Eric’s hand covered the baby’s back, joining Alace’s in holding the child close. He bent and pressed his lips to Alace’s temple, then lifted one of the baby’s hands, a look of wonder coming over his face when those tiny fingers tightened, wrapping around his.

  “Oh, my God. She’s perfect.” He lifted each of the baby’s fingers in turn, dusting a kiss across each. “Ten fingers.” Alace improved the baby’s position, angling her so she could see the child’s entire body.

  “Ten toes.” Alace lifted her chin, and Eric met her halfway, the kiss they shared chaste, closed-mouthed, but filled with the deepest, most soul-shaking passion she’d ever felt. “She’s perfect.”

  “Lila.” He was the first to ca
ll their daughter by name, using the one they’d agreed upon days ago. “Lila Sue. Oh, my heart. Welcome to the world. I love you, beloved. Both of you. So much.”

  “I love you, too, Eric Ward.” Alace leaned against Eric’s shoulder as he slipped his head in beside hers. Falling silent, they stayed like that until the nurses interrupted to take the baby for measuring and weighing. Alace was struck dumb with emotions flooding through her as they gazed with love at the daughter they held.

  Chapter Five

  Owen

  “We got this, right?” Walking through the parking lot, Owen looked down at Kelly, trotting alongside him in a losing effort to keep up with Owen’s long strides. Realizing how fast he was walking, he slowed slightly, giving Kelly a chance to catch up more easily. “You know what to do?”

  Kelly smiled up at him, and if he didn’t know the boy as well as he already did, Owen wouldn’t have seen the shadows in his gaze, wouldn’t have seen the tension in his expression. He looked like any boy out early on a Saturday shopping excursion. Then Kelly did something that ripped that illusion like wet tissue paper, rocking Owen to the core.

  Fingers fidgeting with the hem of his long-sleeved T-shirt, he quietly agreed, “Yes, Daddy.”

  Pain exploded behind his eyes as Owen fought the memories attempting to drag him down to hell. Fingers scrubbing across his forehead, he ignored the tear-swollen images of Emma’s mother that tried to overwhelm. His head pounded as he stubbornly shoved away memories about the case notes and photographs he should have never had access to, but he’d said “fuck the rules” because he’d needed to know. Couldn’t have lived with himself if he hadn’t paid tribute to Emma’s suffering and death in the only way he’d known.

  But within the knowing came the plan, and the plan was the only thing that had saved him through the years. The plan and the missions. Without the missions, he’d have eaten his gun long ago, ending the agony once and for all. But he’d had the missions, had found and worked through the clues, putting puzzles together, saving children and disenfranchised people from slavery and pain. I did. I’ve helped set them free. The missions each had carried a two-fold purpose, and he’d hung tightly to that rope woven not from hope but desperation.