“You.” His knuckles turned white from the grip they held on the handle. “You possessed me.”
“Me?” What in the world was he talking about? All she had been doing was sorting through some information with Jon. She vaguely remembered some comment Jon said to make her laugh. She couldn’t remember now what the comment was. From that moment on the night had changed.
“Yes, you!” He paced to the door and back. “You were sitting there laughing with him.”
“He made a funny comment.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at her husband.
“You never laugh with me anymore.”
In amazing clarity it finally dawned on her. “You’re jealous!” Her husband was jealous of Jon Hall. He had absolutely no reason to be jealous of Jon or any other man. Didn’t he realize how much she loved him? She took a step forward and slowly smiled.
“I’m not jealous!” Mason walked back to the door and pulled it open.
“Mason?”
He glanced again at his watch with annoyance. “I’m going to be late. We’ll talk tonight.”
She gave him her sexiest smile. She knew she looked like something a cat wouldn’t even bother to drag in, but she didn’t care. Mason was jealous! “I’ll be waiting.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. He glanced once more at his watch, turned and headed out the door.
Chapter 12
Mason replaced the car phone and stared out the windshield at the endless rows of marble gravestones. His secretary would handle everything until he arrived at the courthouse. What he planned on doing wasn’t going to take long. He should have done it years ago. He needed to confront his father and release his past. Visiting Clint Blacksword’s final resting place was the best he could do.
Leaving Gillian standing in the kitchen this morning was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. But she had been right. He was jealous of Jon Hall and the easy banter that had developed between him and his wife. He could lose Gillian to another man. Just because they were married, it didn’t mean they couldn’t get unmarried. It was an eye-opening, heart-stopping thought. One that had him heading out to the cemetery his father was buried in, instead of Center City and the courthouse.
Tonight when he left work he would be heading for home and his future. Gillian had said she would be waiting for him. He wanted to meet her with an unclouded heart. With a determined look he opened the car door and headed for his father’s grave.
The plain gray headstone was in the second row where he looked. He hadn’t visited the grave since the day of the funeral, seventeen years ago. But he remembered the general location. He read the marker, Clint Edward Blacksword, and engraved below was the year he was born and the year he died. No words of love or prayer had been added. No “Loving Husband and Father,” no “Adored Son.” Nothing but the years. It was the sad and sorrowful ending of a man who walked this earth for thirty-six years. The grass was neatly mowed and turning brown under the summer’s burning sun. No flowers bloomed or were wilting beneath the marker. In all likelihood no flowers ever graced his grave. Who would bring them? Surely not his mother or sisters. The society had shunned Clint Blacksword years before his death.
He stared at the marker and wondered how to begin. He refused to call the man buried below “Dad.” “Dad” was the name you gave the man who raised you, loved you and taught you to be a man. Clint Blacksword had done none of those things. “Father” sounded too damn respectful. “Sir” would have been a joke. He decided to skip the salutation and come straight to the point. In a low whisper he said, “I’m your son, Mason, and I’m nothing like you.”
His hands curled into fists as he glared at the dried grass. “You were a selfish, gutless man, a horrible, cruel husband and an abusive father. You had so much in this world, but you refused to see what was in front of you.”
Mason glanced at his white-knuckled fists and fought the emotion clogging his throat. Feelings long buried came storming to the surface. The film of moisture coating his eyes distorted his vision. Taking a deep breath, he told his father what the child inside him wanted to say for over twenty years. “I could have been a good son. You never gave me the chance. You never gave any of us a chance. It was always about you, you, and you.” A tear rolled down his check, but he ignored it. “We could have been a happy, loving family.”
Mason listened for a response, some type of sign to tell him his father had heard his childhood hopes, but there was nothing but the sound of distant traffic and the persistent buzzing of a fly. He sighed heavily and glanced around the empty cemetery. What was he expecting, blaring trumpets and heavenly voices? In all likelihood Clint Blacksword never made it through the Pearly Gates.
“I married a woman the Council selected and she’s—I mean, we’re pregnant.” He could almost hear his father’s sarcastic laugh. It had happened just like his father had predicted all those years ago. “Her name is Gillian, and I love her.” The laughter halted. “I am going to make this marriage work and I’m going to be the best father I can possibly be.”
Mason smiled as peace filled his soul. He felt cleansed. “I used to hate you, Clint Blacksword. I don’t anymore. Now I can only pity the man you were. You had no idea what you lost, did you?” Mason turned and started to walk away. He turned back and stared at the grave. For some unknown reason he changed his mind. “I think in the end you did.” Silence greeted his conclusion. Mason gave a slight nod and headed for his car.
Gillian pulled up in front of her office and glanced up and down the street. Everything appeared normal and no strange cars had followed her. She knew Mason would hit the roof if he found out she left the house, but this was important. After he left this morning she had been walking on air. Mason was jealous. He wouldn’t be jealous if he didn’t care, would he? He said they were going to talk when he came home from work. The hours seemed to stretch endlessly in front of her and one very important question still remained unanswered. Was she truly pregnant? How could they discuss the future when she didn’t know what the future held?
There was one easy way to find out. She had quickly gotten dressed in an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt and headed for the nearest pharmacy. A simple pregnancy test would give her the answer. Once she was out, and nothing sinister happened, she had decided to drive to her office and pick up the mail and see if there were any messages. It had been four days since she and Mason had been there last. She wanted nothing to distract them tonight.
Gillian picked up the small paper bag sitting on the seat next to her and headed for her office. Mail was scattered across the rug, where the mail person had crammed it into the slot. She skimmed the envelopes and smiled. It was either all junk mail or envelopes with return addresses she recognized. Jon Hall might be right, after all. The person who had been threatening her might have grown bored with the game or tired of waiting for her to come out alone. Hell, for all she knew, the man could have gone on vacation to Disneyland. She closed and locked the door behind her. There was no sense taking unnecessary risks.
Gillian tossed the mail onto the desk and pulled the small box out of the paper bag. She didn’t want to drive the twenty-five minutes back home before doing the test. She wanted to know now.
Two minutes later she came out of the bathroom and carefully placed the test in the center of her desk and sat. Within five minutes she would know if a life was forming inside her. She glanced from her watch to the test and nervously drummed her fingers. The seconds seemed to last for minutes, and the minutes for hours.
For the past two days Mason had been acting awfully unusual. He seemed so unsure of himself, as if he didn’t quite know what to do or say. The Mason she had come to know didn’t have an unsure bone in his body. At least he never used to, until she had mentioned the P wordpregnant. Maybe he never thought of himself as a father before and her possible pregnancy came as a shock to him?
The man had to have some inkling how babies were made. You just couldn’t go at it night afte
r night without increasing the odds. The odds had all been on the baby’s side, so why the shock?
For days she had been avoiding him and any form of communication. At first it had been because she was angry and upset with her husband. How could he not want their child? Then fear started to set in. What if he wanted to call off the marriage before the baby arrived? Before he had a chance to fall in love?
She had been tearing herself up inside worrying about a million and one possible ways for Mason to end their marriage. Until this morning. When he accused her of laughing with Jon, and not him, it hit her like a stone wall. Mason was jealous of Jon. That was why he practically threw the poor detective out of their house last night. Mason was jealous of another man. Earlier, when Jon had offered to escort her wherever she had to go during the day, her husband had offered to rearrange his schedule. She was the real reason behind the proposed schedule change, not because he thought Jon would be inconvenienced. Mason didn’t want her running all over the place with the handsome detective.
Mason loved her! Of course he hadn’t figured that out yet, but she had confidence in his ability to see the truth. The future indeed looked very promising. Now all she had to do was wait another minute to see if the future also included a baby.
She stared at the big hand of her watch and took a deep breath when it finally moved to the appropriate number. It was time to see what the future held. She glanced at the small plastic test and grinned. A big pink plus sign gave her the results. She was pregnant!
Gillian leaned back in her chair and plopped both feet up on the desk and grinned like an idiot. She was going to become a mother. A tiny life—that she and Mason had created—was growing inside her. She wondered if it would be a boy with dark hair and dark eyes, just like Mason. Or a girl with her light hair and blue eyes. It didn’t matter to her what combination it came in, as long as it was healthy.
There were a lot of disadvantages to being pregnant. One was her new morning ritual in the bathroom, but that should pass. Her stomach would probably grow to the size of a blimp and she would waddle like a duck. She would have to start eating healthier foods and lower her current intake of ice cream. At about three in the morning she had raided the freezer and noticed Mason had picked up another half gallon of pistachio ice cream. The carton was now nearly empty. She could live with a few extra pounds if the end result was a baby.
The one drawback she hadn’t given any thought to was her powers. She shouldn’t use them. A pregnant witch had a very high chance of not being able to control her powers. It didn’t mean she would lose her powers, she just might not be able to control them. The society forbade any pregnant witch from using her powers. Too many things could go wrong—and had in the past.
Some were tragic events. The great Chicago fire of 1871 was indeed started by Mrs. O’Leary’s cow with a little help from a pregnant witch named Molly Grady.
Some events weren’t so tragic, but caused a stir nevertheless. A pregnant witch was responsible for having it rain frogs in some tiny little village in England. Scientists blamed it on a weather phenomenon called a waterspout, but the society knew the truth.
Not being able to use her powers wouldn’t have bothered her at all if it weren’t for the joker leaving dead rodents at her door. She hadn’t scanned anything for years, until the letters started to arrive. As for her shields, the only time she used them was when she was out trying to track down unsupporting fathers who didn’t want to be found. Some of the places she had visited would have required Arnold Schwarzenegger as a bodyguard if it hadn’t been for her shields. That meant she was going to be restricted for the next nine months, but that was okay. There were a lot of places she could still go that didn’t require a shield. Once this weirdo was caught she would be free to continue with a lot of her work.
With the impending arrival of the little one, she really should start to consider spending more time behind a computer than on the streets. Her brother Kent had offered in the past to help show her how to travel the Internet and let her fingers do the walking instead of her feet. The idea hadn’t held any appeal to her in the past, but now it was awfully tempting. Maybe she could convince Mason to permanently share his office with her.
Visions of Mason behind his desk working at night, her behind another desk speeding through the Internet and the baby playing on a blanket with a rattle filled her senses. They would be a family. She didn’t know why Mason had told her he didn’t want a child the other morning. He wanted their child, she knew he did. At least she prayed he did.
Hadn’t he brought home a dozen red roses for her the other day? She hadn’t given them more than a passing glance when he handed them to her. But as soon as he left the room, she sniffed each bloom and smiled. Wasn’t he the one who picked up more pistachio ice cream yesterday for her? At night, when he should have been sleeping, she could hear him pacing in the master bedroom. Twice he looked like he was about to yell at her, but he had managed to get himself back under control before the outburst.
She had purposely been pushing every button of his she could think of. She wanted him to lose that damn iron control, at least just once. Being in physical danger around Mason was never the issue. Her instincts were telling her that when Mason finally lost his control she would see a side of him she had only been dreaming about. A side that was capable of being in love. When his control slipped, she would finally be able to see his heart.
Gillian leaned farther back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. She wanted Mason to say three little words— I love you—and make her the happiest woman in the world.
The unexpected sound of splintering wood nearly threw her from her precarious perch on her chair. She stared in horror as her office door was kicked in and a man followed the broken door into her office. A man holding a gun—a very deadly-looking gun. She stared at the metal barrel and swallowed. Now was not the time to lose control of her powers.
She had been a fool. Mason was never going to forgive her if she got herself and their child killed. She slowly raised her gaze from the gun and encountered a pair of gray eyes shrouded in madness. She didn’t need her powers to know this was the man who had been threatening her.
His name was Lenny Perate and he was one of the deadbeat fathers she had located. His name was never high on her list of suspects because he didn’t seem the type, nor was he associated with the rougher sides of the city. Lenny had walked out on his wife and four kids three years ago. The court had ordered him to pay support, but he never had. He had changed jobs and his ex-wife, Carolyn, had come to Gillian for help nearly a year ago.
Lenny had been one of the easier ones to track down. He had left the small shoe store he had been working in and had migrated to a large department store in a fancy mall on the outskirts of the city. He still sold shoes, only now it was to a better class of people. The interesting part about Lenny was that he left his wife and children mere months before an uncle had died and left him some very interesting assets. Gillian had located him and the court ordered him to sell his fancy new sports car and boat to pay back child support. Lenny had a choice—do as the court ordered, or go to prison for contempt of court. Mason had been the judge to sign the court order. Lenny had sold the assets and was still having child support withheld from his paycheck at the fancy department store.
Gillian remembered Lenny as a quiet, almost meek, sort of guy who hadn’t put up a lot of resistance. In fact, he hadn’t resisted at all. He submissively sold the assets he had inherited and went on with his life. Or so she had thought. It appeared now that Lenny was indeed infuriated over the lost assets and was blaming her.
The madness in his eyes gave her a moment of fear. Lenny looked like he would love to pull the trigger. She slowly lowered her feet to the floor and stood up. “Hello, Lenny.”
“Shut up, bitch.” Lenny glanced around the office and grinned menacingly.
So much for pleasantries. Her hand instinctively dropped to her abdomen, where her child lay. She quickl
y ran through her choices. She could use her powers to protect herself, and suffer whatever consequences developed. There was no guarantee that her powers would save her. She could try to send Mason a message and pray that it reached him. Or she could spinelessly stand by and allow Lenny to end her life. Logic told her to try to reach Mason first. If Lenny started to get violent, she’d try her powers. A shield could beat a bullet, provided she saw the bullet coming.
She kept her gaze on the trigger of Lenny’s gun and sent Mason two words: help and pregnant. There was no sense going into details and pressing her luck. She had a gut feeling she was going to need every ounce of luck she possessed. Her face was expressionless as she asked, “Can I help you with something?” It was a ridiculous question to ask a man pointing a gun at you, but she’d be damned if she’d cry or beg for her life. She’d do that later, but maybe now she could talk some sense into Lenny.
“You’re going to die real slow, bitch.” He took a few steps closer.
Okay, that had her heart skipping a few beats. Maybe one little shield wouldn’t hurt? She watched the gun with morbid curiosity.
Lenny grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” He jammed the gun against her side. “Let’s go.”
Gillian dug her feet into the carpet and prayed she wasn’t making a mistake. A small shield went up where the gun pressed into her side. “Where are we going?” She breathed a small sigh of relief when nothing unusual happened.
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