CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1)

by Kristina Weaver

  “Fuck.”

  “Right. My advice. Keep up the separation charade until we straighten things out. Double up security and make sure she’s never alone.”

  “I am not going to let this divide go on while some idiot rules the game! She’s miserable, I’m miserable, and I…well…I have a thing for my girl when she’s swelling.” I admit sheepishly.

  It’s not a kink because I have never found other pregnant women in any way sexy. They’re taken, claimed, and filled with another man, but for some reason, the sight of my girl growing with my babies is a huge bloody turn on.

  “You’re such a goner man, fucking half way to bloody Peru from that soft glint in your eye. Go home and get back in her good books. Leave this shite to us. I’ll call Giles and get him to start digging, but I’m telling you, man, this is seriously wigging out my creep meter. I’m officially weirded out about this,” Dougal says, serious for once.

  That gives me pause. Dougal, the fun, light-hearted bloke we all love and razz is serious, which means this is going to get very serious, probably very quickly.

  “I know. I’m hoping this is all just a product of her scrambled memories.”

  “But you need to know,” Kent says, reading my mind.

  “Yeah. Because I need to find the fuck who dared lay hands on my woman.”

  Possessive much, Cam? I snort at my inner voice and let off a silent growl. Bet your bloody arse I am. That is mine, and I always protect what is mine.

  “And if that fuck turns out to be…” Kent doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know where he’s going with it, and I’m ready.

  Surprisingly so.

  “Then I’ll put him back in the fucking ground.”

  I say it with enough conviction that they know I’m dead serious, and they nod, their eyes going just as dark as mine.

  “Then we’ll get this done.”

  “Go home, mate. You have a woman to coddle, and a little Angel to hand off to gram and gramps.”

  That puts a grin back on my face because yeah, I have every intention of using my smoking hot body to get what I want. I just hope I’m not too late to get her heart.

  ***

  Shaw

  I’m lying just where I fell just less than an hour ago, feeling sorry for myself and hoping that Margery and Victor come home soon. They’d elected to take Angel for an impromptu visit now that Millie and Molly are in town for a shopping expedition. I suspect it’s another one of Margery’s bragging visits. They should have been back already.

  It’s dark, somewhere past midnight, and my freaking back is killing me.

  And yet I don’t move, terrified that if I do, something bad will happen. I would have called someone when it had happened, but the phone is across the room, and with no cell phone…

  This is all Cameron’s fault. Somehow. I think.

  No, it’s not. It’s is all my freaking fault. I’d told Sally—the maid—that I was fine and that she could go out for the night, and the other staff has all retired. And then I’d got it in my freaking head to go downstairs and get a snack, something I’m not passing up since those pills are working and my appetite has returned tenfold.

  So yeah, I’d gone down by myself, and in the dark, well, it freaked me out a little. More so when I could have sworn I heard someone whisper my name.

  That had officially freaked me the hell out, and I’d started having these thoughts about old houses and ghosts and God alone knows what else—yeah, I am officially nuts now—and I’d dropped everything and rushed upstairs like a bat out of hell, my feet barely hitting the stairs in my haste to reach the safety of my and Cameron’s bed.

  I know what you’re probably thinking, and yeah, I am so in trouble if my first thought for safety is Cameron, but cut me some slack here. Those nightmares have only continued and gotten worse, and I’m starting to think that if I’m not wrong—I’m so not—then a freaking ghost shoved me, and I am now being haunted by the guy.

  So yeah, I’d run and gotten as far as the sitting room area when I’d taken a nose dive and ended up face planting into the Persian rug. Big time. I’d tried to stop my momentum of course and ended up doing something really painful to my ankle.

  Have I said how much pain I’m in yet? That would be a fucking lot! I’d spent ten minutes freaking out and crying like an ugly Julia Roberts character before calming down enough to assess the situation.

  My conclusion? I’m not freaking moving a muscle, and I am also not opening my eyes in case something is there. Ridiculous, but I’ve convinced myself that it’s a ghost and I am not up for seeing that. Ever. Like ever, ever!

  When I hear a sound coming from the hall, I stifle a gasp and seal my eyes shut, willing myself to lie as still as physically possible just in case the ghoul is playing with me.

  Another scrape sounds, and it sends my heart crashing and thudding like a runaway train.

  Please let me fall asleep. Please, I beg, biting into my already puffy lips and freezing when the slow creak of the door opening reaches my ears.

  The wind is still howling outside, lending an even eerier quality to my already overworked senses, and I whimper, going so stiff my muscles hurt when soft footfalls reach my ears.

  A gasp and then those footfalls speed up before a hand touches my shoulders.

  The piercing cry I let off is bloodcurdling, Jamie Lee type of stuff, and I hit out the second contact is made, going wild and slapping at whatever I can reach.

  “Don’t hurt me!”

  “Jesus Christ! Calm down.”

  My eyes pop open, and then I’m sobbing and practically clawing my way up Cameron’s chest, uncaring of the pain in my ankle or anything else when his strong arms surround me and lift me, cradling me so close I feel the heat of him pierce through the icy coldness that has seeped straight o my bones.

  “Baby. Baby, stop. Ssh, Ducky. There, baby, there now. I’ve got you,” he croons, and I cry harder because it’s pathetic that I’m eating it up and searching for more when just a few days ago I told him to bugger off and leave me alone.

  It’s not very in with the feminist movement that I’m relying on a man to chase away a figment of my imagination, but right now I don’t care. I just need him to make it all better so I can stop feeling the bitter terror.

  When I’ve calmed enough, he pulls back slightly, and I realize he’s sitting on the bed with my body cradled in his lap. His hands swipe at the tears still wetting my cheeks, and he gives me a small kiss before looking back, his concern evident.

  “Duck, what happened?”

  God! How am I supposed to tell him that I freaked out and fell because I think there’s a ghost stalking me? That’s like…Girls Interrupted shit! I’ll end up in the loony bin for sure.

  “Er, uh. I fell?”

  I’m a terrible liar so every half-truth is basically a question, and from the look on his face, he knows me well enough to have caught on in the months since we’ve known each other. Or should I say, since I got out of the hospital and had to relearn everything about the Stones.

  “Now Duck, I know you ask things when you’re not being truthful, so I’m going to ask again and this time tell me the truth. What happened?”

  My expression must go mulish because he grins and then sighs before rubbing circles over my back.

  “I know you’re still angry with me, and you have every right to be—”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. I know I have a lot to make up for, but please, what happened?” he asks earnestly, keeping my eyes up and level with his concerned blue gaze.

  “I…I went to get a snack, and I heard something. It freaked me out.” I admit sheepishly, dropping my eyes. “I sorta ran upstairs to cower under the covers, but I…I must have tripped on something, and then I was too afraid to move in case I fell again, so I…I stayed on the floor and played dead, after about an eternity of loud crying,” I say with a whine, feeling my eyes fill again.

  Sure, I’m not feeling so great about my stupidity
now when the lights are on and I’m not alone. Tragic.

  “You’re oaky?” he sounds so panicked that I almost want to lie and say I’m fine.

  But my ankle is throbbing like a toothache on steroids, and I’m not sure he’ll be too pleased if I lie.

  “I hurt my ankle, and I think I wrenched my back when I twisted to avoid falling on my front.” I admit, shuddering out a last sigh.

  Being the sap that I am I snuggle closer to his chest and rest my head on his shoulder, hardly wincing when he lifts my leg and starts poking at my right ankle.

  “We’re going to have to go to the emergency, Duck. It’s really swollen,” he grumbles.

  “I don’t think it’s too bad. Can’t we just put some ice on it? Please?”

  “No. I want you checked out fully. By the way, Mum rang and let me know that her and Dad are staying over at Millie’s, and that Angelica’s staying with them.”

  It’s only after we’ve been to the hospital and found that I’ve got a mild sprain, and then back home and tucked safely in bed that he turns to me, his brow furrowed.

  “What scared you so much you bolted from the kitchen? You’ve never been skittish about getting a snack in the dark.”

  He’s up on his elbow, looming over me, and all I can focus on for a second is the sight if his muscled torso and the way the sheet covers almost nothing.

  “Shaw! What scared you?”

  “You’ll think I’ve finally lost my nut if I tell you,” I say miserably, cuddling deeper into the blankets while keeping my raised foot as still as I can.

  “No, I won’t. Tell me. I swear I won’t be a dick.”

  Huh! Like that’s possible.

  My face must tell him what I don’t say because he grins before sighing and going serious.

  “I have a lot to make up for, and I know it. I’ve been a royal arse the last two weeks.”

  At that I snort, in a really unladylike way, and give him a look that says, “No! Why ever would you say that”’ He thinks he’s been an arse? If we’re going to define things, I would say he was a major, major asshole.

  He chuckles and nods once, conceding the point silently, and it strikes me that Cameron and I know each other very well. I may not remember meeting him, falling in love, or getting pregnant, hell most days I can hardly remember what I ate for breakfast anyway, but I know I’ve felt linked to him since I opened my eyes to see his haggard face.

  I’m still pissed at him, but I trust him like I trust no other. Even knowing I need answers, I’m not afraid. Not even with Alec’s warnings still fresh in my mind.

  “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? Don’t get me wrong, I like it, a lot more than the way you’ve been recently, but what’s up?”

  I’m rocking the boat here, but I won’t just pretend that the last two weeks haven’t happened.

  He sighs and flops down beside me, holding his arm out in question, almost hopefully. I move in carefully, leaning against his chest stiffly before relaxing and cuddling closer.

  “I think it’s time I told you the truth, Ducky. And then you tell me what really happened.”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Shaw

  For some reason the thought of knowing everything makes me more nervous than the thought of someone really being in the kitchen with me.

  “Okay,” I say after a deep breath to fortify myself.

  It takes a while for him to collect his thoughts, and I lie there quietly, waiting patiently, sensing his fear and almost determined need to reveal it all.

  “We did not meet and fall in love. You met…you met my brother Robert, over a year ago in a club in New York City. You were celebrating just completing your degree early and being in line for a massive internship. From what you told me, Rob spent the next week courting you before the two of you fell into bed together.”

  I try to jerk away, horrified, disbelieving, terrified that what he’s saying is true, but he tightens his hold and soothes me with gentle caresses that somehow manage to quiet my racing heart and stuttered breaths.

  “You fell pregnant. Rob was already long gone by then, his usual bloody M.O., and you were ill, without a job or a home…you managed to find us, and you rang Mum and then me.”

  “I don’t think I want to know this,” I whisper raggedly, clinging to him as my mind starts whirling.

  Ignorance is bliss right? Maybe it would be best not to know any of this. What he’s saying is that—?

  “Angelica isn’t yours?” I whimper, near tears.

  That sets him off, and I’m on my back, his frame caging me in, his expression so fierce it almost hurts to see it.

  “She is! I claimed her as my own the moment I realized I wanted you and no one will ever say differently. Angelica is my daughter, my first child. Ours. Understand?”

  I nod and smile tremulously. Yes, I understand. He’s an honorable, possessive man, who will never let another take what is his. That means Angelica and I will always be safe and cared for.

  Any wonder I love him?

  “Good.” He settles down again and pulls me back into place over his beating heart, taking care to avoid jostling my ankle. “I found you in a shelter for abused women. God, you looked so terrible; I wanted to fucking kill someone. I strong-armed you onto my private jet and brought you here.”

  “You wanted me even then?”

  He lets out a rueful laugh and pulls my chin up so I see his face.

  “I was a right arse even then. I blamed you for what I was feeling and convinced myself you were nothing more than a gold digger intent on shafting my grieving family. No, love, listen before you unman me. But even with that filling my head I could not resist you.”

  I snort again and purse my lips, resisting the urge to slap him when he grins.

  “We were drawn to each other and eventually, ahem, I fooled you into accepting my ring. My aunt Millie arranged a massive house party to celebrate our engagement, as well as Kent and Molly’s, so we went and…would you believe me if I tell you I realized minutes before you were pushed that I no longer believed the worst of you?”

  Another snort, this one more amused than disbelieving.

  Leave it to fate to finally cut me some slack minutes before I took a header down stairs and almost croaked, I think. “So you decided to trick me?”

  “No, I…I was as surprised as anyone was that you’d lost your memory, and the doctors were adamant that we should try to let your memory return by itself. They speculated that the shock and the thought of miscarrying must have traumatized you to the point that you retreated from the memory of anything to do with the baby.”

  Makes sense, and yet I can’t help but think that it was the shock of seeing the man, the alleged father of my baby, and one who was supposed to be very much dead that had sealed the deal.

  “Then why the ruse, Cameron? Why let me believe that we were this magical, loving couple? Do you know what sort of nonsense I made up in my mind to replace what I’d lost? God, I am such a sap.”

  “No, Ducky, you are simply a very kindhearted, trusting woman towards whom I have…done wrong. I spent the last months trying to get you to fall for me, and ahem, get you pregnant so that I could keep you should your memory return.”

  If I snort anymore I’m going to turn into a freaking pig, but there’s nothing to say to any of this, not if I want to keep hearing the truth.

  “Go on.”

  He’s squirming and looking very uncomfortable now, as if what he’s revealed isn’t the half of it. God, what more could there be?

  “I behaved appallingly when you told me about Rob, and the thing is, I’m not sure I don’t believe you. If what you saw was real and not your mind drumming up a villain, then I need to ensure that you, Angel, and my parents are safe. Dougal and the lads think that the news of our engagement is the reason for your fall, and I have to agree.”

  I sit up at this and get comfortable, slinging my injured leg over his torso and facing him.

  “That a
ctually makes sense. I’ve been wracking my brain for the last few days, trying to think about why he would push me, and I couldn’t get at a reason. But that makes sense, Cam. What if he is alive? No, just hear me out. Can you think of any reason why he’d let everyone think he’s dead and then…”

  I turn my head and stare out of the window, taking in the jagged forks of lightning and the rolls of thunder beyond, thinking that it’s so apt to be learning everything on such a tempestuous night.

  “Why would a man who is obviously privileged and loved give up his life this way? Unless I really am crazy. Gosh, you know I’ve been so peeved at you I haven’t even considered that you may be right, Cam. Maybe I’m just imagining this.” I finally sigh, feeling my shoulders slump.

  “No, baby, I don’t think you are. Dougal and Kent think it’s someone who resembles Rob, so they’re going back over the security tapes and re-questioning Millie’s security. We’ll find out what happened so that we can be at ease.”

  I nod, not saying anything because even though I’d vacillated, mostly to ease his mind, I know what I know…and it gives me the creeps. My personal opinion? Dear old Rob must have gotten into hot water and tried to disappear.

  Why did he come back and target me? I can’t say, but that bastard tried to kill his own flesh and blood, and for that, I will never forgive him. Nah, for that I will peel him raw when I get my hands on him and get him I will.

  “I should be bait.”

  “What!”

  I squeal and fall back when he vaults to his feet, all semblance or relaxation gone, his face going hard and intense. Good Lord, if he’s reacting this way about one simple suggestion, I hate to think what he’s going to do when I get done.

  “Think about it, Cam! If you’re right, and this happened because we got engaged, which we are so talking about later since I’m not having another child out of wedlock! Then it stands to reason that if we announce our wedding and actually get things rolling, we should be able to lure…er…the person.”

  He pauses, and I think, yes, I have him now. My super logic and altogether too smart brain are genius. So genius he can’t help but see how crazy, sick smart I am.