KNOCKED UP BY THE KILLER
Page 63
“You just keep your goddamn mouth shut; you might even start to like it.”
But just when I thought that all hope was lost, a banging sounded from downstairs.
“Cory!” came the booming voice of Russell, the name called out as loud and clear as if Russell had been standing at the bedroom door.
To say I felt relief at that would be possibly the largest understatement imaginable. My heart pounded at the sound of Russell’s voice, and knowing he had arrived to save me brought life back into my body. I began to thrash and scream, pounding my little fists against Cory’s skinny chest.
Cory’s face turned to an expression of shock and fear combined. Next came the pounding of footsteps climbing up the stairs.
“Get the fuck off me!” I shouted, squirming and hitting Cory. “Get off me now!”
But before Cory could respond to my blows, or even to the realization that Russell had arrived, his brother appeared. Standing in the doorway, his legs spread and his arms curved at his sides, an expression of pure rage on his face, was Russell.
“Cory, you miserable little fucker,” he said, his eyes burning with rage.
“No, Russ, it’s not that, I j—“”
But before he could finish whatever miserable excuse he’d had in mind, Russell exploded from where he stood, covering the distance between him and Cory with lightning speed. He grabbed Cory by the wrist, yanked him from where he sat on top of me, and tossed him across the room. He flew through the air like he weighed nothing and collided with the wall, the paint and cracking with his impact. A yelp of pain sounded out as he hit.
Russell now loomed over me, scanning my body with alert eyes to see if I’d been hurt.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice intense.
“Yeah,” I said. “He didn’t have time to …”
Russell nodded, cutting me off and not letting me hear the words, as hearing me say exactly what Cory had in mind would’ve just been too much for him to bear.
Then, he turned his attention to Cory, who was struggling to his feet. Russell rushed over to him, grabbing him by his skinny bicep and yanking him to his feet. A trickle of blood dripped from Cory’s nose, and he had a dazed look on his face.
“This is it, Cory,” shouted Russell. “This is fucking it!”
He dragged Cory across the room, Cory’s feet struggling to keep up.
But as Russell dragged Cory, a flash of awareness appeared on Cory’s face; he laid eyes on the gun sitting on the dresser, and with speed that I ’hadn’t known he was still capable of, snatched it off.
“Russell, watch out!” I shouted.
But I was too late. Cory brought the gun upwards in a swift motion, connecting with Russell’s head.
“Fuck!” shouted Russell, the impact forcing him to let go of Cory and stumble backward.
My eyes shot to Russell, who now had a bleeding wound on the side of his head from the gun. Cory raised the pistol at Russell, then at me, then back at Russell. His eyes were wide with panic and the gun shook in his hand. Russell’s posture quickly turned from an aggressive to one of attempted calm. He held out his palms in front of him.
“Cory,” said Russell, his voice now low and stern. “Put that thing down. You’ve already fucked up, but there’s no reason to make it worse.”
“Russ, you don’t fuckin’ get it!” shouted Cory. “It can’t get any fuckin’ worse! I had one shot to even the goddamn score, to make you know just how much shit you’ve put me through, and I couldn’t even do that right.”
I could barely think straight, but it still managed to strike me as disgusting that even now Cory was still feeling sorry for himself.
“Just put the gun down,” said Russell. “I won’t hurt you. Just put that thing down and we can talk about this.”
Cory looked down and swayed his head back and forth.
“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” said Cory. “Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”
“Brother,” said Russell. “I’m willing to look past a little B-and-E. I don’t know what you had in mind, but we can talk about it. But if you pull that trigger you’re gonna cross a line that you won’t be able to walk back over.”
“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” repeating Cory, still shaking his head, his hands pressed to his temples.
Then he raised the gun again and pointed it at Russell.
“Big man,” he said. “Big bro who can do no fuckin’ wrong. You just get it all, don’t you? Everything I want you got, and it just came to you, like you didn’t even want it and it just fell in your fuckin’ lap. And now look at me; I ain’t got shit. Even got a fuckin’ kid on the way.”
Russell’s eyes shot to me, and I silently cursed Cory for making him find out this way.
“What?” said Russell.
All I could do was nod, fearful tears in my eyes.
“And this was my last chance to do somethin’, anything,” said Cory. “But I guess I got one more.”
He cocked the gun and brought it to his temple, pressing the tip hard against his skull.
“I got one last hand to play,” he said. “Better make it count.”
“No!” shouted Russell, rushing towards his brother.
But he was too late. Cory pulled the trigger and a deafening bang filled the room.
Chapter Nineteen
Alyssa
Eight months later …
I stood on the balcony of our LA home watching the sun sink slowly into the dark blue of the ocean. My arms were wrapped around my belly, as if preparing myself to hold the baby that was due to be born any day now. Bringing the wine glass to my lips, I took a slow sip and a small smile crossed my lips when I realized just how used to my little lime and sparkling water lime substitute I’d gotten.
Then, without any conscious effort on my part, I found myself drifting back to that day in New York, the day that Cory had taken his own life. I knew that it would be burned forever into my mind.
When Cory had pulled the trigger Russell’s first instinct had been to rush to me, cover my eyes, and pull me out of the room. It was shocking when it happened, but looking back, I was thankful that he’d managed to spare me the sight of the gory aftermath of his brother’s suicide. His next move had been to call the police. I remember expressing hesitation at that, Russell’s career being what it was, but he assured me that there was nothing in the townhome that could be used to implicate him; all of that was in his Brooklyn apartment.
So when the cops showed up they didn’t waste any time in seeing the scene for what it was: a junkie brother at the end of his rope making one last desperate move. The house was abuzz with activity, and Russell was quick to get me out of there and into a nearby hotel. Once the night passed there, we both realized that neither of us wanted to go back to the townhome anytime soon, if ever. We spent a week at the hotel before booking a temporary apartment in the city, which had been our home ever since. Only recently had Russell and I had a discussion about the place, and we’d decided that neither of us would be able to step foot in that house without thinking of Cory. The place had been cleaned out and put on the market to be sold as-is, aside from the reminders of that horrible evening.
Business had been keeping us mostly in LA, so there hadn’t been much of a rush to find anything permanent in the city. Sometime after the events of that night, Sandor contacted Russell, letting him know that he’d been so impressed with Russell’s work—not to mention his charming companion—that he wished to offer an opportunity to work closely at his side. Russell graciously accepted the position.
And, to my surprise, I was becoming one of the most sought-after hostesses in the scene. I guess I had a knack for this after all.
“This … is big,” said Russell on the night he spoke with Sandor, the two of us standing on the balcony of the temporary apartment, the evening city spread out before us.
“Is it going to be dangerous?” I asked, wrapping my arm around his waist and resting my head on his shoulder.
And then he turned to me with an almost boyishly enthusiastic glint in his eyes.
“More money, too,” he said. “A lot more money. Not to mention a lot of traveling. Sandor’s got operations all over the globe, and I’ll have to be on top of each and every one of them.”
“Sounds … difficult,” I said, still worried about Russell.
“It will be, but Sandor’s been dropping hints that he’s thinking of retiring. If he’s bringing me on board for a position like this, then … well, I don’t want to jump the gun, but it likely means he’s got big plans for me.”
“That’s amazing,” I said. “You’ve earned it.”
“We’ve earned it,” he said. “You made a hell of an impression on him, and he wouldn’t be considering me for a job like this unless he could trust the both of us.”
And so the next several months passed in a blur of evening parties, lunches out with the girls, and the deepening of the passion between Russell and I. When Cory had done what he did, something changed in Russell. He was still the same hard, uncompromising man that he was before, but there was the slightest softening to his personality. I guessed that between seeing his brother kill himself in front of him after threatening the woman pregnant with his baby, he’d realized just how quickly fortunes could turn, and how important it was to keep those you cared about close.
And that change only served to make me fall in love with him even more.
I couldn’t believe that I was involved with a man like Russell; it was something I never would’ve guessed for myself. But here I was, about to give birth, a new life opening itself up for the both of us. I couldn’t wait to see what was in store.
“Hey,” called out Russell, snapping me out of my daydreaming as he approached me from behind, wrapping his strong arms around me. “Something on your mind?”
“Just…thinking about everything that’s happened,” I said.
“Only about the good parts, I hope,” he said.
“It’s all there,” I said. “But the good parts are the most important.”
“Good,” he said.
A moment passed as he held me while we watched the sunset.
“Come inside,” he said. “I have something to show you.”
Curious, I followed Russell into the house. He led me to the dining room table, where a simple eight-by-ten manila envelope had been placed. The envelope was plain, aside from a small bow attached to the corner.
“What is it?” I asked, looking the envelope over but not touching it, as though it was some kind of magical object that I shouldn’t just pick up.
My eyes flicked over to Russell, who was already dressed for our dinner out. He wore a sharp black suit, tailored perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, and his eyes had a sparkle to them. Even now, nearly a year into … whatever this thing he and I had was, I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip when I looked at him.
“I know it’s been a while, but you remember how all this started, right?”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“How could I forget?” I said. “I was a tramp living in the back of a car. Probably a few days away from freezing to death.”
“Right,” he said. “But there was a little more to it than that. When I brought you on board, we made an agreement, remember?”
“The whole ‘indentured servant’ thing,” I said, wondering where he was going with this, my stomach beginning to warm with excitement. “Me being your property.”
“Well, right,” he said. “But it was an arrangement. You do work for me, and I do something for you. It’s been almost a year, and I think it’s time I made good on what I said.”
I turned my attention back to the envelope. What was inside of it?
“After all, I think you’ve done more than enough good work for me,” he said, slipping a hand into a pocket. “So, go ahead—open it.”
Still feeling uncertain, I took the envelope from the table. It was light, and I could hear a few documents shift around inside. I opened the top, turned the envelope upside down, and dumped the contents onto the table.
I gasped when I saw what was there.
Among the documents were a passport and a birth certificate, along with a few credit cards in my name. But as I looked over the contents, I saw something that caught my eye—instead of my name as it was, there was a new name: Alyssa Carrick.
And that was when I looked at the last document in the pile.
It was a marriage certificate, one that stated that I was married to Russell. I turned to him, my eyes wide, my hands shaking. And that was when I spotted the final gift in his hands: a small black box.
“I didn’t want to be presumptive, but I hope this is something you want.”
He opened the box, revealing a gorgeous diamond ring.
“I’m ready to make this official,” he said, his voice warm. “Alyssa, will you marry me?”
I couldn’t even form the words. Rushing towards him, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him over and over.
“Yes,” I said, holding back the tears. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Then, he slipped the ring on my finger, clasping my hand between his. Neither of us could speak, so instead, we walked out onto the patio, the sun now dipping behind the sea, a brilliant swirl of orange and cream around it.
I didn’t know what the future held, but Russell and I were now officially man and wife. And I knew together we could do anything.
THE END
***
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Books by Nicole Fox
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KNOCKED UP BY THE REBEL: The Shadow Hunters MC
SHE’S MINE ONCE AGAIN… AND THIS TIME, SHE’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE.
I’ve made mistakes I won’t repeat.
Like letting Daphne out of my bed.
Now that I’ve got her back, she’ll never leave my sight again.
That’s what happens when you hide my son from me.
Who the f*** does she think she is?
Keeping my son from me?
Furious doesn’t even begin to describe my mood.
I don’t care what she thinks I’ve done.
Hell, she’s probably right.
It’s true: I’ve stolen stuff. I’ve hurt people.
But I don’t regret a godd*mn thing.
This is just the path I’ve chosen.
She thought she’d chosen a path to get away from me.
But that’s impossible.
Because she has something that belongs to me.
And I’m coming to get it back.
KNOCKED UP BY THE ENFORCER: Satan’s Legion MC
SHE WAS A TEMPTATION I NEVER SHOULD HAVE TOUCHED.
…and now she’s pregnant with my child.
Mina Parker, the President’s daughter, is carrying the Vice President’s kid.
Now the Satan’s Legion MC is in an uproar.
And it’s my fault.
The rules have been broken.
The laws have been disgraced.
I screwed up, I know that.
But I could still make it all better.
All it would take to put an end to the chaos is for me to come clean.
All I would take is for me to look the President in the eye and tell him the truth:
“I’m the one who had your precious daughter writhing beneath me.
And I intend to have her again.”
KNOCKED UP BY THE HITMAN: A Bad Boy Baby Romance
I
HAD TWO CHOICES: GET LOCKED UP OR GET KNOCKED UP.
It was either submit to the hitman…
Or surrender to his gun against my head.
Can you really blame me for what I did next?
Living out of my car, down to my last few bucks…
Could things be any worse?