She and River were also excited that they had made the decision to have a child, but as yet, she hadn’t fallen pregnant. She wasn’t concerned; they had all the time in the world and their lovemaking got better every time as they learned about what the other liked to do and have done to them.
She was also becoming closer to Daisy and to Luke as they invited their friends to dine with them. Daisy’s relationship with Tony had turned to friendship, she told them, but that was okay. Sunday noticed Daisy’s red eyes on one occasion and asked her about it but Daisy told her that it wasn’t Tony who had upset her, but Aria.
“We’re drifting apart,” Daisy told her, “and I don’t know why. It isn’t anything to do with you and I being friends, I’m sure, but she won’t talk to me, not about anything that matters.”
“I’m so sorry, Daisy.” Sunday hugged her friend, wishing she could talk to Aria for her, but not wanting to interfere.
By chance, she got the opportunity later the same week. She and Carmen had driven to a grocery store in Telluride, and as Sunday approached the bakery aisle, she saw Aria staring sightlessly at the bread on sale. She touched her arm gently. “Aria?”
Aria turned, blinking and gave her a half-smile—which was unusual in itself. “Sunday. Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
Aria gazed at her for a long moment then shook her head. “No. I’m not. I’m not.”
And to Sunday’s astonishment, Aria started to cry. Sunday put her arms around the other woman and held her tightly, feeling Aria hug her back. She left Aria cry herself out before offering her a tissue.
“Thanks,” Aria wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just … Sunday, I can’t talk to Daisy about this. It would kill her.”
“What is it, sweetheart?” That was something Sunday had never thought she’d call Aria Fielding.
Aria shook her head. “I found out the other day … I’m sick. It’s so ridiculous, I felt fine until a couple of weeks ago and now …” She looked at Sunday. “Stage IV.” She said it simply, and Sunday felt a jolt.
“Oh no. Oh, Aria, I’m so sorry. So, so, sorry.”
“Thank you. I don’t deserve that from you; I haven’t been the friendliest to you.”
“It’s never too late.” Sunday cursed herself as soon as the words came out. “I mean …”
Aria smiled. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. And you’re right. It’s not too late.”
Sunday took her hand. “But I think you need to tell Daisy. The shock for her … it’s better to know. I know what it’s like to lose someone in a blink of an eye.”
Aria nodded. “I know, word travels fast around here. I Googled you. Marley Locke. Sunday suits you better.”
Sunday chuckled. “I feel more myself as Sunday, strangely. That life seems so distant to me. Look, I’ll be there for you and Daisy through this. Whatever you need, whenever you need.”
“Thank you, Sunday. I appreciate that. Very much.”
Sunday left her with a promise to call her later and arranged to go see Daisy together. Carmen was waiting for her, and she was smiling. “You and River are so alike sometimes. You both collect strays.”
“I was one of those strays,” Sunday said with a chuckle. “Thus proving families are made, not born.”
“Amen to that.”
As they were walking out of the store, Sunday glanced across the street. She saw Brian Scanlan seated outside a coffee shop. He must have sensed her scrutiny as he looked up and raised his cup to her. Sunday gave him a half-smile. She didn’t particularly like the man and hoped he would not come over.
“Let’s go, Carmen.” She looked away from Scanlan and got into the car.
Carmen got in, then froze. “Shoot, I forget the toothpaste. Give me five, Sunny.”
Damn it. As Sunday waited, she saw Scanlan get up and walk over. She rolled down the window, sighing, then plastered a smile on her face. “Hello again.”
“Always a pleasure to see you, Ms. Kemp.”
“Any progress on the ski resort?”
Scanlan smiled. “The papers were signed this morning.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He had his hands on the door and he leaned in closer. “You must come by sometime. I can give you the personal tour.”
The skin on the back of her neck prickled unpleasantly. She was absolutely sure River wasn’t included in that invitation. There was something skeevy about Scanlan, she realized, something that made her stomach clench with unease. “Skiing’s not really my thing, but thank you.”
“There are other pleasurable pastimes aside from skiing. I could introduce you to some of them.”
His meaning was absolutely clear now and Sunday, with relief, saw Carmen emerge from the store. She nodded to Scanlan, who backed away. “Another time, Ms. Locke.”
It wasn’t until she had driven halfway back to Rockford that Sunday realized what he had called her.
Sunday was quiet all through dinner and later, when Berry was asleep, River went to find his lover. She was sitting in her office, reading another one of his father’s diaries.
“Hey, pretty girl.” He sat down beside her and hooked his arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it.”
Sunday leaned her head on his shoulder. “Just thinking about stuff. Life. I saw Aria today.”
“You did? Strange, I didn’t hear about any girl fights.”
“Ha ha.” She chuckled then sighed. “We actually talked. She has some stuff going on, and she needed a friend.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
He kissed her temple. “Making friends all over the state.”
Sunday nodded but she didn’t smile. “And I saw Brian Scanlan. I think our first impressions of him were right. He’s a creep.”
River’s eyes narrowed and he studied her. “Did he come onto you?”
Sunday nodded and River had to quell the pang of jealousy inside him. “I shut it down quick. Ugh. Why do men do that? He knows we’re together, so why on earth would he think I would respond to him in that way?”
River choked back a retort. It wasn’t Sunday’s fault. “Not all men, but you’re a beautiful woman. Douchebag likes to try his luck.”
“Douchebag is right. As if I’d go for anyone who had been with Ange—shit, baby, I didn’t mean …”
River had gotten up and was pacing the room. Sunday got up and reached for him, but he stepped away from her. Sunday’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean … you weren’t with her, River, she abused you. I misspoke. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you.”
River drew in a deep breath. “But I was with her. We had sex.”
“No. Rape is not sex, River. It’s violence, sexual violence. Did you ever seek out intercourse with her?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, then.” She gave a shaky laugh. “What I meant was, Scanlan voluntarily fucked that spider. Please, River, don’t push me away; you must know that’s what I meant.”
For a moment, River felt like running away. He didn’t want to feel sullied or unworthy of Sunday’s love, but he had to admit—it was at the back of his mind, always. There was some damage he hadn’t yet come to terms with.
Eventually though, he could not bear to be estranged from Sunday. He opened his arms and she went into them, the relief clear on her face. “I love you,” she said, “I want you and only you, for all time. You are my reason to live, River.”
He pressed his lips to hers, her words a salve to his fractured mind, and he knew, to move forward, he would have to deal with how he felt about what Angelina had done to him.
The idea came to him during the night and he woke Sunday up, apologizing. “I need to ask you something before I chicken out.”
She rubbed her eyes sleepily and sat up. “What is it, baby?”
“What you told Angelina, about you going deep cover to get my story—what if that was the truth? What if you w
ent back to the career you gave up? Journalism. Help me tell my story, Sunday. The statute of limitations on having her arrested is way past … but we can still expose her.”
Sunday stared at him for a long moment, then she smiled. “You got it, baby. Let’s bring Angelina Marshall down.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Neither of them realized what it would take out of both of them to relive and to hear the horrors of Angelina’s abuse. Often, Sunday would end up sobbing with anger, or River would feel like he couldn’t face remembering, but together they made it through the worst of it. Sunday worked on the story, and River was stunned and thrilled by her love of her profession, seeing finally what she had given up.
He, in turn, upped his efforts to find her stalker and rid them of his menace. There had been a few incidents that caused them concern—silent phone calls, wreaths of dead flowers left at the gates of the property.
“It’s just so … prosaic,” Sunday said after one of the incidents. “It seems … the whole time in New York, he didn’t do any of this. I mean, he sent flowers, but not dead ones, and he never, ever called me. Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s Angelina fucking with us?”
“She would be that petty,” River agreed, “and, yes, she doesn’t have the imagination to be original.”
“She’s reading The Stalker’s Playbook,” Sunday joked.
“Was that the movie with Jennifer Lawrence?”
Sunday giggled. “That’s The Silver Linings Playbook. The one Angelina’s using has no silver lining. Not for her, anyway.” She high-fived a grinning River.
As well as returning to writing, Sunday’s friendship with Aria was a source of great joy and sorrow. She supported both Aria and Daisy when Aria broke the news of her cancer to her devastated sister, and River told Aria he would cover her medical bills. “We’ll find the best specialists, Ari,” he told her, “we won’t give up.”
Aria’s whole demeanor softened and she would often come to play with Berry and have dinner with them. When her doctors told her that her cancer had spread to only one location in her body, her kidney, Aria found some hope at last.
Sunday and River’s relationship grew closer as they worked together on the story. Late one night, as they lay together after making love, River splayed his fingers out over her belly. “One day.”
“One day,” she agreed, smiling at him. “I’m not going to stress about it. It’ll happen when it happens.”
They began to get complacent. Sunday would often drive to pick up Berry from school and although River wanted her to take a security guard with her, she often refused. “I’m not being caged, Riv,” she said determinedly. “He can drive in a car behind. But I need to channel my Britney Spears when I’m driving and no one should be forced to listen to that.”
River chuckled. “Fine. But he’s behind you.”
“No problem.”
Sunday knew not taking the bodyguard would be trying their luck. The phone calls and flowers stopped coming and she hoped against hope that her stalker had finally given up.
She parked the car in front of the school and got out, nodding to the bodyguard in the car behind. She walked into the schoolyard expecting to see Berry waiting for her. There was no one there and, frowning, she walked into the school.
The hallways were silent and she began to walk quicker, towards Berry’s classroom. She pushed her way in and stopped, her heart thudding.
Berry’s teacher sat, her face pale, as Angelina held a gun to her head. Berry, her face-tearstained, was in the arms of Brian Scanlan, who smiled pleasantly at Sunday.
Sunday knew, immediately. God, how had she not seen it? “Please … if you want me to come with you, don’t hurt them.”
Brian smiled. “Darling, you seem to think you’re in charge. Here’s how it’s going to work. You and the little one will come with me. When we’re clear of Rockford, I will call Angelina and she will release this lovely lady here.”
“No.” Sunday shook her head. “You leave her and Berry here, and I’ll come with you.”
“Hmm.” Brian put his head on one side. “Let’s compromise. Angelina, shoot the teacher, would you?”
“No!” Sunday lunged for Angelina, knocking the gun from her hand. “Run,” she screamed at the teacher, who ran. Brian calmly pulled out his gun and shot the running teacher in the back. She staggered but kept going until she collapsed through the door into the fresh air.
Angelina had her hands around Sunday’s throat, squeezing, squeezing. Brian, holding a screaming Berry, slammed the gun down on Angelina’s head and she collapsed on top of Sunday.
Sunday pushed her off and scrambled to her feet, gasping for breath. Brian leveled the gun at her. “Just the three of us then.”
“Please,” Sunday begged him, “leave Berry here. I’ll come with you …”
“No. She’s my insurance policy. Now, move.”
Sunday had no choice but to move, her eyes on Berry. “At least let me hold her.”
Brian shoved the screaming girl at Sunday, who cradled her in her arms. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”
He made them leave by the back entrance. Outside, they could already hear sirens. “Get in the car and get down. If they see us, I’ll shoot the kid first.”
They got into the back seat of his SUV and Sunday held Berry tightly, praying that the police would catch up to them, that the teacher wasn’t seriously hurt and could alert her bodyguard.
As they drove out of town, she studied Brian from the back seat. “Was it you in New York? Cory?”
Brian smiled. “You have no idea how long I waited for you, Marley. No idea. I watched you eat, sleep, fuck, live for years. I know every inch of you. You were mine the moment I saw in you in that library at Harvard.”
Sunday gave a little gasp. “That was you?” She gave a snort of derisive laughter. “You know you were known as the Library Creep? That’s what we all called you.”
A satisfying flash of anger came into his eyes. “No doubt some of the girls I killed also called me that. They weren’t laughing when they died, I assure you.”
Her blood ran cold. She had to get Berry away from this psycho. “What is it you want, Scanlan? To kill me?”
“Not unless I have to, Marley.”
“My name is Sunday.”
“Whatever.” He gave a short mocking laugh. “Sunday Scanlan sounds good to me.”
“Is that what it will take for you to let Berry go? Me marrying you?”
“Among other things.”
God. “Where are you taking us?”
“Somewhere we can talk. Somewhere you can show me what you’re willing to do to save the little girl’s life—and your own.”
Sunday knew she would rather die than let him touch her. “You’d better drive to Vegas,” she said, hoping her bravado would hold. “Because I’m not doing anything until you let Berry go.”
“Then Vegas is where we’re headed,” he said calmly, calling her bluff. “Our wedding night will be spectacular.” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. Sunday held his gaze for as long as she could before looking away and she hated that he laughed when she did. “Good girl. Now, shut the kid up. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
River felt an icy calm settle on him as the police and his security team told him what had happened. “Where are they now?”
“Heading out of state, we think. We’re checking CCTV and the police helicopter is trying to track them down. They can’t have got far.”
“I need to be involved,” he said, “You have to let me come with you.”
“Sir …”
“It’s my daughter and my …” he got choked up. “My Sunday. My girls. If you don’t let me come with you, I’ll hire my own helicopter pilot.”
Eventually he persuaded him to let him ride in the helicopter. An hour later, they got the news there had been a sighting along the I-70. “We think they’re in a black SUV. He’s driving very carefully, u
nder the speed limit, trying not to be seen.”
River tried not to let his panic show. He just cursed himself that he hadn’t seen Scanlan for who he was. What kind of coincidence would lead both of their tormentors to join forces? Had Angelina known who Scanlan was when she came to Colorado? River would bet on it. Not that it had done her any good—she was now in custody, charged with abduction and assault with a deadly weapon.
Angelina was refusing to talk, however, but River suspected that would change when she was threatened with a life sentence. As he traveled with the police, he was frustrated that they didn’t seem to be trying to stop the car, however.
“Mr. Giotto, it’s a hostage situation. We can’t risk him driving the car off the road or hurting one of them in an effort to escape. We know he’s armed. Let’s figure out where they are going. As soon as he runs out of gas, we’ll have him.”
It seemed hours before they told him. “We’ve located them. We think they’re going to Vegas.”
Sunday sat holding Berry, who had finally fallen asleep in her arms. Sunday felt belligerent, ignoring Scanlan when he tried to talk to her. He simply shrugged and they drove in silence for hours. She had heard the helicopters flying overhead and knew they were being tracked and it gave her hope. She ran through every situation where she could attack him, and had she been alone with him, she would have tried, but she could not risk Berry’s life. The whole kidnapping seemed shoddily planned—had he been forced into rushing it by Angelina? And how? He could have just killed her. None of it made sense.
All that mattered now was making sure Berry was safe. She pressed her lips to the sleeping girl’s forehead and knew that even if Berry was her own child, she could not love her more. “I won’t let him hurt you, BerBer.”
Scanlan met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Do what I say and the girl will be safe. The moment you say I do, Sunday, I’ll let her go.”
Sunday said nothing. She guessed why the police were hanging back but wondered how Scanlan would imagine they would let him get away with her. Maybe he was counting on her telling them she had gone with him voluntarily. He was insane.
The Hottest Daddy Page 12