by Ivy Jordan
I took a deep breath, told myself I was being silly. It was a coincidence. The parking lot was full; it was a local store where Greg shopped too, and maybe he hadn’t even noticed my car.
My fingers fumbled with my key in the door lock, not wanting to hit the unlock button and cause Greg to look up and notice me. I slid inside, peered through my rearview mirror, and didn’t notice Greg paying any attention to me.
Relief fell over me as I started my car and pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards home.
At the first stop light, I noticed Greg’s truck behind me a few cars back. I watched carefully as he took every turn I took. I reached for my phone, dialed Carter, but got his voice mail.
I started to panic as I pulled onto my street, and Greg’s truck followed. As I pulled into the driveway, I half-expected Greg to drive on by, but instead, he blocked my drive and got out of his truck.
I dialed Carter again, still no answer. Greg tapped on my window. “Get out of the car,” he said calmly.
My phone was still clutched in my hand, squeezing so hard it was leaving an impression on my skin. “What do you want?” I asked through the rolled up car window.
“You’re being ridiculous. I left something, and I need it,” he said.
He did seem calm. And as I sat there in my driveway with my car doors locked, my windows up, and frantically clenching my phone on which I’d dialed Carter twice, I felt ridiculous.
“What did you leave?” I asked.
“Seriously?” he asked with a chuckle. “It’s my grandmother’s quilt,” he said calmly.
I remembered seeing it in the top of the closet, so I was beginning to feel even more ridiculous.
“You’re really overreacting, don’t you think?” he asked with a smile.
I opened the car door, still clutching my phone in my hand. “I’ll grab it for you,” I said quickly.
“There are a couple other things I need to grab in the closet, and something in the laundry room,” he said.
“I can get e’m,” I said sternly.
“No. I can get them myself. What are you worried about?” he laughed.
His calmness and constant need to make me feel foolish for being protective had me rattled. I agreed, called Carter one more time, still no answer, and then called Carrie as I opened my front door.
“Sorry I didn’t call you back. Greg was following me and stopped here to grab a few things from the house. I just wanted to let you know as soon as I’m done here, I’ll be right over,” I said to a confused Carrie on the other end of my phone.
“Stay on the phone,” she demanded.
Greg didn’t appear violent or angry. He disappeared into my bedroom, and I knew I needed to keep an eye on him. “I’ll leave the phone on, but don’t talk. I have to pretend like we hung up,” I said, quickly stuffing my phone into my jacket.
Chapter Ten
I followed Greg into my bedroom, standing in the doorway just in case I needed a quick escape if things escalated.
He held the quilt in his hand as he pushed past me in the doorway. “Is that all you need?” I asked.
He didn’t respond. I followed him into the laundry room where he looked around, opened a cabinet, and then walked back to the living room. “Where’d your little piggy run off to?” he laughed.
His lips snarled under his nose as he laughed, and that same black stare returned in his eyes from the day he’d attacked me.
“If you have everything you need, you should go. You’re not even supposed to be here,” I reminded him.
“I’ll leave when I’m ready. Guess your little piggy realized this is a dangerous neighborhood for pigs, and their trucks,” he snarled as he laughed again.
“You did that?” I asked, shocked that I had been so wrong about him.
“What? Left a friendly note? Sure.”
I reached into my purse, pulling out my phone. “Call the police,” I screamed into the receiver just before Greg slapped it out of my hand.
“Who was that? You got a new man already?” Greg rolled his eyes and then stretched his head back, snapping his neck with a gruesome noise.
I backed up slowly, making my way to the door when he lunged at me, gripping my arm and pulling me towards him.
His breath reeked of wheatgrass as he pushed his mouth against mine. I screamed, kicked, and tried to get away, but he was too strong. “What do you want?” I cried as he slung me onto the couch.
“I own you. I made you. You can’t just walk away,” he growled, reaching for the buckle on his jeans.
I rolled from the couch onto the floor, crawling as fast as I could towards the door. Pain surged through the back of my head as Greg gripped my ponytail, pulling me backward and slamming my head into the coffee table.
This was it. I should’ve listened to Carter. Why hadn’t I listened?
Without Carter patrolling the block, there would be at least five to ten more minutes before the police could arrive in this neighborhood, if in fact Carrie heard me before my phone had been smashed into pieces against the wall. That would give Greg time to do what he wanted, and probably get away.
“When I’m done with you, your little pig friend is gonna get his, and then whoever else you’ve been fuckin’, you little whore,” Greg warned.
“Leave him alone. He left me. It’s me you’re mad at, not him,” I pleaded.
“Oh, no. I’m mad at both of you,” he insisted, his eyes twitching as he spoke.
The front door pushed open and Carter rushed in, slamming Greg against the wall. They scuffled, and in the mix, it was hard to tell who was winning, and who was losing.
They were both on the floor, rolling around as fists flew in every direction. I screamed when Greg’s fist landed on Carter, hard enough I could hear the bone in his nose break.
Carter got up on his feet, swinging wildly at Greg, landing every other punch. Greg’s arms were muscular, but not long enough to match Carter’s reach.
Greg stumbled back, hitting his back onto the wall and knocking my pictures off, before he finally gave in, sliding to the floor surrounded by broken glass.
I rushed to Carter, safe in his arms, and sorry I’d ever doubted his judgment. “Thank you,” I said, looking up at his bloodied face.
Four other officers rushed in, cuffed Greg, and hauled him out to the cruiser.
“Did Carrie call you?” I asked, curious as to how he knew to come.
“No. I hired a detective to follow Greg, to make sure he wasn’t causing you any trouble,” he explained.
“So, you knew he was at the grocery store?” I asked.
“My guy called me as he was leaving. He’d lost track of him for about twenty minutes. I knew you had been there, so I assumed the worst. You know, a hunch,” he smiled. “Anyway. I called the guys, told them to head this way, and voila,” he said.
“He did do that to your truck,” I said.
“I know,” he replied.
“Why didn’t you haul him in?” I asked.
“I was afraid he might come after you, like you said. But, I knew once you started defending him, there would be little I could do to protect you,” he sighed.
“I watched my mother talk cops out of taking my dad away many a time. She’d lie and tell them she fell, that he was drunk, loud, but not abusive. The doctors all knew, though. No kid, no matter how rambunctious, breaks their arm in the same place five times in two years. You were showing all the signs, and I couldn’t stand to watch it again. I’m sorry I bailed on you, reacted the way I did. It just brought back some bad memories, and that feeling of helplessness; I never wanted to have that with you,” he said.
“I can’t thank you enough, or tell you how sorry I am,” I pleaded.
“Don’t be sorry. And no need to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay. You know, I knew you’d let him get close again. When you didn’t want him picked up for harassing you in the parking lot that day, and you hadn’t reported the phone calls he’d made, it was cle
ar that you trusted him, even after what he’d done. I didn’t want you hurt.” Carter wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight against his chest.
His heart was pounding ninety miles an hour, hard against his chest. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he gasped, kissing the top of my head.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Another officer came in and took my statement while Carrie rushed into the living room. “I called the police, but they were already dispatched,” she said with confusion in her tone.
“Carter called them, on a hunch,” I smiled.
I suddenly realized that Carter wasn’t on duty. He’d been shopping for a romantic dinner earlier, and probably had plans he needed to keep. “You better get going,” I said, smiling without any jealousy or rage in my heart.
“Going?” he asked.
“That steak dinner you were shopping for, some lucky lady deserves not to be stood up,” I smiled.
I knew at that moment I loved that man, I mean, truly loved him. It was no longer about ‘us’ or myself; it was only about his happiness. That was all I wanted, for Carter Reynolds, super cop, super lover, superman, to be happy, even if that meant not being with me.
“There’s no other woman, Naomi,” he grinned.
“But your dinner?” I asked, confused.
“I was trying to recreate your dinner, our first one, but with steak instead of shrimp,” he laughed.
“So, there’s no one else?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes as my heart swelled in my chest.
He shook his head, smiling, his eyes dancing on mine. “No way. What do you say, I take you to my place and cook for you?” he asked.
“What do you say, we make a quick stop at the hospital and let them look at that nose, then I’ll cook for you,” I replied.
“I can live with that. Will you be drinking? I can stop at the liquor store and get you some whiskey, rum, tequila; what’s your poison?” he teased.
I tiptoed to him, kissing him on the lips. He gripped me tightly, caressing my back as my fingers ran through his thick, dark hair. “I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you,” he said sweetly. “But, don’t forget those blue heels,” he laughed.
Epilogue
Carter worked his way to the top faster than most. He was promoted to detective in the special victims unit and was being given an award for his heroism, dedication, and loyalty to the force.
He was beaming as we took our seats at our table. The banquet hall was decorated in police blue and gold. It was beautiful. He deserved it. He deserved every bit of it.
The day he singlehandedly took down Greg Stevens, well, that was only the beginning of his three-year streak of heroism. He saved five kids from an abandoned school building that they accidentally caught on fire. He took down one of the most notorious sex traffickers in the country by working around the clock following leads. He even took a bullet to the chest to save a woman from her drunken, angry husband. Thank God for bullet-proof vests.
Yes, Carter Reynolds deserved this banquet.
I never went home after that day Greg attacked me for the second time. I stayed with Carter, and it was the best move I’d ever made, besides leaving the gym and taking off on my own.
Business was booming, and I’d hired seven personal trainers, and four personal chefs to help with the workload. I was considering expanding outside of Los Angeles soon. With Carter by my side, I knew I could do anything; we could do anything.
His sergeant took the podium, praising Carter for all his efforts, his accomplishments, and his dedication. You could tell that the man had a spot in his heart for Carter, just from the way he spoke about him.
He was finally pulled on stage, his cheeks blushing red, and his demeanor somewhat shy. He didn’t like being fussed over, and I knew that was partly due to his childhood, never having a dad show any pride or affection towards him.
I watched with admiration as he smiled, thanked everyone in the force, and told a few stories about his fellow officers, ones that he felt should be up there beside him accepting the award.
When his eyes turned to me, I started to tear up. I knew he was getting ready to become sentimental, probably embarrassing me with his own praises. “This woman,” he said, walking off the stage, and taking the mic with him.
“She’s stood by me through it all, stayed up nights worrying, cried herself to sleep, but smiled each morning before sending me off to work. She’s the one I have to thank the most. Without her, I’d have no reason to come home at night. She is the one I’m trying to make the world a better place for, she’s the one I’m protecting each time I start my shift.”
He was standing at our table; the spotlight shone on me as he spouted out his kind words to a room full of colleagues, friends, and what we now considered family.
“This award, this promotion, it means a whole hell of a lot to me. But, there’s one thing that would mean more.”
Carter dropped to his knee by my chair. My tears flooded my eyes, falling recklessly down my cheeks and into my lap. He extended a hand, a black velvet box in his palm. “Naomi Tate. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked, opening the box to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.
The entire banquet hall fell silent, everyone awaiting my response. “Yes!” I squealed, leaping into his arms, and covering his face with kisses as he worked to get the ring on my frantic finger.
The entire place cheered and applauded, and after Carter gave adequate attention to his new bride-to-be, he took the mic back to the stage. “Now, I’m the happiest man in the world. I have it all,” he shouted into the mic, and then rushed back to his seat beside me.
“I don’t want to wait, either. I want to plan this wedding right away. I’ve lived my life without you as my wife long enough,” he declared with a wide smile on his face.
“I’m glad you want to move quickly,” I said sweetly, squeezing his hand in mine.
“Oh, yeah? You can’t stand another moment being Ms. Tate, just want to be Mrs. Reynolds?” he laughed.
“Yes. And I had a surprise for you for when we got home. But, I think I should give it to you now,” I smirked.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Are you certain you’re the happiest you can be?” I asked.
“I am,” he said sternly.
“And, nothing could make you happier? You already have it all?” I asked.
“Of course. This has made my life complete,” he said, his eyes growing confused by my taunting.
“Well, I believe I can make you even happier,” I stated firmly.
“You’re killin’ me, woman. Out with it,” he demanded, his face turning flush, and his lips tightening with anticipation.
“I went to the doctor this morning. I’m pregnant,” I announced.
Carter jumped out of his seat, gripped my hands, and pulled me to my feet. He pulled me to the stage as I struggled to stay in my spot on the floor. His strength and his excitement won out, pulling me to the platform where I had to face the entire crowd.
“My bride-to-be just informed me that she could make me even happier. Even though I didn’t think it possible, she did it,” he announced loudly in the microphone as his voice echoed off the walls.
“We’re having a baby!” He howled like a wolf causing others from his squad to join in.
“So, now I’m the happiest man in the world, with everything I could ever want,” he announced.
“I can still make you happier,” I leaned into the mic so everyone could hear.
Carter turned to me, his face filled with confusion. “Now she’s just showing off,” he said into the mic as everyone laughed.
“Twins,” I said loudly into the mic, and then turned to watch Carter’s expression.
His mouth fell open, his eyes filled with tears, and his arms scooped me up, pulling me close to his chest.
The warmth of his breath against my neck tickled, sending goosebumps down my spine. He kissed
me softly on the cheek, tears streaming. He thanked everyone, but it was hard to understand as he sobbed with joy.
Everyone stood, clapping loudly and cheering as we took our seats.
They all laughed when the next speaker took the stage, asking how in the hell he was going to top that. He couldn’t. We were the top. The cherry of life. That was us. I couldn’t wait to start building our sundae.
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MR PRESIDENT
By Ivy Jordan
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan
Chapter One
The small Minnesota office was crowded with campaign staff, supporters, and the hopeful presidential candidate, Adam Andrews, current governor of the state.
He looked so confident, so calm. I was falling apart inside, my nerves beginning to get the better of me as the reporter updated the race. One by one, Adam was winning the major states, and it was looking like a clear victory.
“Another glass of wine?” Adam whispered in my ear.
His hot breath startled me as it rolled down my neck from behind. “Yes, please,” I smiled, trying to hide my nerves as he handed me the glass of chardonnay. “It’s looking good,” I said, staring up at the large television hanging on the desolate blue wall.
I wondered what this office would be once we cleared out, what it was before we arrived. “I’m a mess,” he admitted, still with confidence that made him unbelievable.
I chuckled. “You look fine to me.”
His smile was wide and inviting, contagious, and nearly intoxicating. “I hide my stress well,” he sighed.
Unlike me, I thought to myself. The soft blue eyes he laid upon me made it clear he thought I needed some assurance.
Adam, 49 years old, a veteran that served in the U.S Air Force, ranked Chief Master Sergeant, was twenty years younger than his presidential rival, Grant Owens, a loud cowboy with outdated views and unorganized thoughts.