Bend: A Dark Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “Yeah, well, it’s your fault. Your fault.”

  “I know that.”

  “Get out. I want you to get out.”

  “Okay.” I took a few steps into the kitchen and then looked back at her. “But I’m not going far. Hate me or don’t, but Omar is dangerous and he’s nearby. I won’t leave you alone.”

  “Just get out.”

  I turned and left, closing the front door behind me.

  I stood on her porch for a second, taking deep breaths. I understood why she reacted that way, but it still didn’t feel nice to be reminded that this was all my fault.

  She was right. It was my fault.

  I never meant for this girl to get mixed up in any of this. In a lot of ways, she reminded me of myself, or at least the person I used to be. Back before all the training, before my mother died, I was just another Midwestern kid trying to live my life.

  Now I was an international terrorist hunter, and I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.

  But I wasn’t about to let Tara and Mason down. We hadn’t talked much about him, since the pressing issue of a dangerous terrorist coming for them was a little more important, but he was never far from the back of my mind. Mason was my son, that was for sure, and whether or not I ever planned on having children didn’t matter anymore.

  I was a father.

  But first, I was a SEAL.

  I moved out, cutting across her lawn. I was determined to sweep the area again, maybe see if I couldn’t smoke out Omar on my own.

  Chapter 7

  Tara

  I felt like my whole body was ringing as Emory left the house.

  I couldn’t believe a word he had told me. Apparently I was the target of some incredibly dangerous international terrorist from Pakistan, and I had even met him just the day before.

  This was all so unreal. I sat down on the couch and began to take deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

  There were a few things that pointed toward his story being true. First, there was the fact that I couldn’t find Emory no matter what I tried. It was totally possible that he really was a SEAL and the government really did protect his identity.

  Next, there was the fact that he described the man I’d met almost perfectly. Plus, I’d been feeling strange lately, like someone was watching me. Maybe that was because someone really was watching me; I just couldn’t see who it was.

  Finally, there was the way Emory had brought us back to the house, that winding, strange path. It was clearly a way to make it difficult for someone to follow us, though why that mattered was beyond me. They already knew where I lived.

  And in that moment, I realized that I believed him. I believed what he had told me and I believed that I really was in danger.

  That realization sent a bolt of terror through my spine.

  Mason and my mom. They were walking around the park, the last place I ran into Omar.

  I stood up and ran out the door. I didn’t see Emory anywhere as I looked around frantically. I gave up after a second and practically sprinted to the park, not caring that I probably looked like a crazy person.

  I burst onto the blacktop of the walking path and looked around. They were nowhere in sight. Panic was welling up in my chest.

  What if Omar Hooth had my son and my mother? Would he kill them or just hold them ransom?

  No, I couldn’t think that way. I just couldn’t let myself start thinking of the worst. Mom and Mason were fine. I just had to find them.

  I started walking, looking everywhere. I walked fast, not trying to draw more attention to myself than I already had, but I probably looked like a crazy person. My heart was racing in my chest and fear was icing up my legs, but the thought of someone hurting my baby or my mother kept me moving forward.

  I rounded the corner, headed toward the jungle gym, and there they were. Mom had Mason in her arms, a bottle in his mouth, sitting on a bench facing the swings.

  I practically ran over to her. “Mom!” I called out.

  She turned and smiled. “Hi, sweetie,” she said.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, a little out of breath as I stopped in front of her.

  “Of course I am. Are you?”

  “I’m fine. Just ran over here.”

  She cocked her head at me like I was a crazy person. “Why would you do that? I watch Mason all the time. Did something happen?”

  “No. Well, yes, but no. Everything is okay.”

  She looked at me like I had just sprouted an extra head, which wasn’t too far from the truth. “Okay. Well, I just saw your friend Emory. He seemed nice.”

  I blinked. “Emory was here?”

  “Well, he just walked by and waved.” She smiled at me. “Is it him, Tara? Is he the father?”

  I sighed and looked away. Emory had checked up on my mom and Mason already. That man was so frustrating, and I was terrified of what was happening with him, but I suddenly felt incredibly grateful.

  He wasn’t just thinking of me. He was thinking of my mother and our child. Whoever he was, he at least meant well, or so I hoped.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go back. I have to tell you and Dad something.”

  She nodded. “Okay, sweetie. Let me finish feeding Mason and then we’ll head back together.”

  I stood impatiently while my mother finished feeding Mason. I wanted to get out of the open area as soon as possible.

  She finished up and I took Mason, putting him into the stroller. We walked back together, chatting aimlessly about work and school. Dad would be home shortly, and I was going to have to tell them then.

  I was going to have to tell them that their daughter was wanted by an international terrorist.

  I didn’t know if this was the right thing to do or not. Emory hadn’t explicitly told me not to, although he did make it clear that people weren’t supposed to know. Still, these were my parents, and they were involved as well.

  They had to know, I decided. I didn’t care what Emory wanted. This was my family and my decision.

  Once we were finally back inside the house, I took Mason upstairs while Mom started on a late lunch. I heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway while I rocked Mason, getting him ready for his nap.

  “You’ll be okay,” I said to him, “perfectly okay. Daddy is here and we’ll be okay.”

  I wasn’t worried about Mason being afraid. He was too young to be scared. I was saying these things for myself, and I knew it.

  Finally, Mason seemed tired and on the verge of sleeping. Very carefully, I transferred him down into the crib. I made sure he didn’t wake up before sneaking out and heading back downstairs.

  Dad was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked into the kitchen. He was a big man, portly, partially balding, with a big smile and a bigger heart. Dad was basically the nicest man I’d ever met, and everyone he knew agreed with me.

  “Well look who it is,” he said. “The prodigal daughter returned.”

  “Hi, Dad,” I said. I sat down at the table across from him.

  “Your mom says you have something very important to tell us.”

  Looking at Dad in that moment, I felt a stab of panic.

  How could I tell these people and expect them to really believe me? Truthfully, I barely believed it myself. It was without a doubt the most insane thing I had ever heard, let alone believed.

  And the more I let it stew, the more I believed it. He hadn’t really shown me any proof, but there was something about Emory that made me intuitively trust him.

  Sure, he was a cocky asshole. There was no doubt that he frustrated me, pushed my buttons. But he was a Midwesterner like myself, and he seemed to genuinely care about my safety.

  Plus, he was the father of my baby. No matter what happened, that was the truth and would never change.

  Dad was looking at me expectantly, and I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words to them.

  “Mason’s dad is back,” I said instead. “Emory is back.”


  Dad raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “So you finally found him?”

  “Well, no. He just showed up today, actually.”

  Dad was giving me the look that meant I find this hard to believe. “Just out of nowhere?”

  “Yes, Dad, out of nowhere.”

  “Why?”

  I paused. Why had Emory shown up? “He was looking for me,” I lied. “He wanted to see me again. He didn’t know about Mason.”

  “And what does he think about having a son?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Mom came over and put a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “That’s right. It is very complicated. Right, Roger?”

  “Of course it is, Celine.” Dad smiled up at her.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen with him and Mason, but we’re just getting started. So be nice, okay?”

  “When am I ever not nice?” Dad asked.

  Mom laughed and smacked his shoulder. “Just do what she says, Roger.”

  He laughed. “Okay, fine. I’m out numbered. I’ll be nice to the man who knocked my little girl up and then disappeared.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept having nightmares where my whole family was blown to little pieces on an airplane.

  Around three in the morning, I climbed out of bed and walked down the hall. I pushed open Mason’s door and walked into the nursery. For a second, I was terrified that he wouldn’t be there.

  But he was safe and sound.

  I smiled to myself and sat down in the comfortable chair next to this crib.

  So I’d lied to my parents earlier. Well, not exactly lied, but I left out a pretty important detail. Emory had found me, but I left out the real reason.

  I felt guilty about that. My parents needed to know the truth sooner or later, but I needed to be surer before I did that. I also felt like Emory needed to be there to reassure them, otherwise I could already hear my father on the phone with the local police.

  I felt like I was losing my mind. I was playing into Emory’s instructions without really questioning it. There was just something about him, something powerful. It was hard to ignore and to go against.

  And he was the father of my son. I had to keep reminding myself of that, over and over again. No matter what happened, he was Mason’s father.

  I fell asleep sitting in the nursery, terrified and worried, Mason sleeping soundly by my side.

  Chapter 8

  Emory

  I was up at the crack of fucking dawn and moving around Tara’s neighborhood silently.

  Omar knew I was here, but I was still hoping I could catch him unaware. But as the hours slipped past, I didn’t find a single fucking peep. I didn’t know who Omar was working with, so I was keeping my eyes open. But as far as I could tell, the neighborhood was clear of any surveillance.

  He’d probably pulled back as soon as I showed up. He knew me, or at least knew what I was capable of.

  I couldn’t help but keep thinking about the day before, at the café. I couldn’t think of a single reason why Omar would be sitting out in the open more or less. Maybe I should have gone after him then and there, but there were too many people around, too many innocent bystanders.

  He had to have been taunting me. I couldn’t think of any other reason why Omar would sit there where he was easily seen. He had more skill than that, more training; he knew exactly what he was doing. That bastard was just rubbing it in my fucking face.

  Which really pissed me off. I reached back and felt the grip of my weapon, squeezing it reassuringly. I couldn’t fucking wait to put a bullet between his scumbag eyes, to take him out of this world forever before he hurt another person.

  As I moved across the neighborhood, I watched Tara’s parents get into their car and pull out. I briefly wondered if she told them and then decided that she hadn’t. I was monitoring their incoming and outgoing calls, or at least I was watching who was calling and who they were calling, and I hadn’t seen anything strange at all. I wasn’t actually listening to what they were saying, because I wasn’t a total fucking creep, but I had to know if Omar tried to contact them.

  So far, they were clean. No, Tara hadn’t told them. I checked my watch, and it was just about seven in the morning. As I walked up her driveway, I figured her parents had just left for church.

  It took me a few seconds to pick their front door lock and slip inside. I shut the door softly behind me and glanced at the stairs leading up.

  I could easily sneak up and give Tara a nice surprise. I was willing to bet she’d thank me for it.

  Instead, I went into the kitchen and started cooking breakfast.

  Not long later, Tara came downstairs just as I was just finishing up the bacon. She stopped, stared at me, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and then stared at me again.

  “My, mother,” she said, “how big you’ve gotten.”

  I grinned at her. “The better to make your body sweat, my dear.”

  She shook her head and crossed her arms. “Why did you break into my house?”

  “Cooking you breakfast.”

  “That seems like something an insane person would do.”

  “Probably,” I said, grinning. “But this is fucking delicious.”

  She sighed and sat down at the table. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.” I poured her a mug and put it in front of her. “Eggs, bacon, pancakes?”

  She sighed, almost as if she were resigned to her fate. “All three, please.”

  I made her up a plate and put it in front of her. “Enjoy.”

  She took a bite of the eggs. “Seriously, why did you break into my house?”

  “I haven’t seen anything from Omar, which worries me. I wasn’t leaving you alone in this house.”

  “Mason will be up soon,” she said.

  “Mason can’t protect you,” I pointed out.

  “He’s stronger than he looks.”

  “Of course he is. He’s my son after all. I bet that toddler could take most grown men in a fight, no problem.”

  “Is that how you measure strength?”

  “It’s the only strength I know, princess.” I made myself a plate and sat down across from her, digging in.

  I could feel her watching me, and that was fine. This was a weird situation, and she needed to get used to the idea of me being around.

  At least until Omar was caught. Past that, who knew what was going to happen.

  “I didn’t tell them, you know,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “How?”

  “You didn’t call the police.”

  She paused. “You’re monitoring our calls or something?”

  “I am, but that’s not how I know.”

  She clenched her jaw. “You can’t spy on us.”

  “I’m just checking to make sure Omar doesn’t contact you. I’m not listening.”

  “Emory, this is so weird.”

  I put my fork down and sipped my coffee. “I know that. I get it. But the threat is real.”

  “Is it? Can you show me proof?”

  I grinned and reached into my pocket. I handed her the photograph with the Urdu writing on the back.

  She shook her head. “Fuck. Really?”

  “Really. And the words basically say that they know who I am and who Mason is.”

  She looked at me, terror in her eyes. “They know?”

  “I don’t know how. I guess they kept tabs on you after you left the resort and put two and two together.”

  “So this is real,” she whispered.

  “It’s real, princess. Very real.”

  “Should we tell my parents?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Let’s only tell people who really need to know for now.”

  “Aren’t they in danger too?”

  “I doubt it. Omar isn’t stupid. He won’t waste his one chance to get at me b
y hurting your parents.”

  Just then, the sound of a crying baby filled the room.

  I made a face. “He do that every morning?”

  “Sure does,” Tara said, standing.

  I stood faster. “I’ll get him.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “That’s okay.”

  “At least let me bring him down.”

  She looked at me, lips pursed, and finally nodded. “Fine. Bring him right now.”

  I walked around the table and stopped next to her, stooping down to put my lips against her ear. “While you’re down here, think about the night we made him. Think about the way I made that fucking sweet body of yours feel.”

  Before she could respond, I walked past and headed upstairs.

  I didn’t know a damn thing about babies. I knew they pissed, shit, cried, and needed to be fed. That was pretty much the extent of what I knew.

  So it was pretty fucking weird to walk into the nursery and see my son lying there, crying loudly.

  “Good morning, little boy,” I said. I gently scooped him up into my arms.

  He seemed so tiny, practically disappearing into my arm muscles.

  His cry got quieter and quieter as I bounced him softly, and slowly it stopped. He blinked up at me with eyes identical to my own, and I felt something inside me, however brief.

  I was holding and looking at my son, really looking at him, for the first time.

  This was why I was here. Because of Mason, Tara was really in danger. Because Mason was my son, and Omar knew he could use that to hurt me.

  I cradled Mason in my arms. “Sorry to pull you into this, little man.”

  He just looked at me.

  “Not much of a talker. I get that. I’m not either. But I bet your mom talks to you constantly. I bet you never get any peace and quiet.”

  I rocked him in my arms as I carried him slowly downstairs. I walked into the kitchen and Tara looked up at me, biting her lip.

  “Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

  “He’s my son, all right,” I said. “The boy nearly ripped my arms out of my sockets when I tried to pick him up.”

  That made her smile. “Here. I need to change him and feed him.”