The Distance Between Us (Mac Security Series Book 3)

by Abigail Davies

  “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” He tuts and murmurs, “Useless child.”

  My back straightens and I look at Dean where he sits in the front with the driver. The small shake of his head tells me to leave it, so I do. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and then look down at my lap.

  We pull up to the lavish hotel where the function is being held, my mother and father getting out first and then walking past all the waiting paparazzi.

  “Come on, Kitty,” Dean says, poking his head in the open door. “Let’s get this over with then you can stay at mine so you can watch a chick flick and eat ice cream.”

  “Ben and Jerry’s?” I ask, hopeful. The only food that’s kept in our house is the healthy stuff. I mean, what teenage girl wants to eat lettuce for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?

  “You know it.” He smirks, holding his tattooed hand out to me.

  I let him help me out of the car, walking into the building and shielding my eyes from the glare of the camera flashes. I hate being in the public eye.

  “This way,” Dean says, his voice low and his eyes alert as we walk through the grand entrance. Once you’ve been to one of these hotels and seen the marble floors, elaborate paintings and chandeliers, you’ve been to them all.

  His hand rests at the bottom of my back, steering me where I need to go.

  As soon as we walk into the ballroom, my eyes widen. There has to be at least five hundred people here, is this what they call a small gathering?

  Dean chuckles at my expression and turns me to face him, his light blue eyes boring into mine. “I’ll be right over there.” He tilts his head to a spot in the right-hand corner. “You know the signal?”

  “Yep.” I smirk, holding up my hand in a Spock sign. “Either this or to shout ice cream.”

  “That’s my girl.” He winks and walks away, leaving me to fend for myself.

  I stand awkwardly for several seconds, watching Dean’s back and smiling at how people move out of the way for him. He towers above everyone I know. His arms are as big as his head, decorated with tattoos that I know he has but keeps covered due to working for my father, but they still peek out of his sleeves, on his hands and on his neck. I’ve seen them all plenty of times when I’ve been at his place.

  He has a small apartment that attaches onto the main house where I’ve stayed quite a few times; me getting his big king-size bed while he sleeps on the sofa.

  Most people would think it was weird, but he really is the big brother that I never had.

  A clearing of a throat behind me makes me realize that I’m blocking the door so I move over to the tables where food is laid out. Looking at all the tiny hors d’oeuvres that are sitting on silver trays, I frown and shake my head. How the hell do they expect me to not come out of here starving after eating those things?

  “Katherine?” The deep booming voice of my father has me spinning around. My eyes widen when I see someone standing next to him, dressed in a black tuxedo and a small smile on his face. “This is Christopher.” He raises his brow and widens his eyes. “Christopher this is my daughter who I was telling you and your father about.”

  I flick my eyes to Christopher, taking note of his dark green eyes and his perfectly styled hair, not a strand out of place.

  “Nice to meet you,” I whisper.

  “Talk louder, Katherine,” my father admonishes.

  “It is rather loud in here,” Christopher says, extending his hand to me. “Maybe we could talk somewhere quieter, the gardens maybe?”

  A smile breaks out on my face at the thought of seeing the gardens, but then my stomach drops when I realize that I’ll be alone with him.

  “Go,” my father says, waving his arm and mouthing, “don’t mess this up,” before we turn around and head out of the ballroom.

  He’s the perfect gentleman as he guides me to the gardens with his hand at the small of my back, greeting everyone politely as we walk past them. He opens the door to the patio, walking slightly ahead of me and telling me to hurry up.

  He stops when he’s right at the edge of the gardens, grabbing my hand and pulling me to him.

  “So, Katherine, tell me about yourself.”

  “I… erm… I…” I swallow at the look in his eyes, his pupils dilating as he stares at my legs and backs me up against a wall.

  I look down at my hands, not knowing what to say. I need to not mess this up.

  “Jesus, they’re right about you, eh?”

  “W-what?” I stammer, looking around and realizing that it’s only me and him out here.

  “They say you’re untouchable.” He raises a brow and slides his hand down my waist and to my leg, lifting it off the ground and around his hip as he pushes his groin against me. “I’ll show them they’re wrong, I’m gonna touch you all over and there ain’t a thing that anyone can do to stop me.”

  His face contorts into an evil grin and before I know it, he’s diving for my chest, burying his head there as his hand works its way up my leg, trying to pull my panties aside.

  “No,” I say, my voice soft. “No!” I try louder but it doesn’t work, he’s nearly touching me there now and I can’t stand him touching me. This can’t be happening, not here.

  “Get off on saying no, eh?” He chuckles and it has goose bumps breaking out all over my skin.

  I close my eyes and open my mouth wide, screaming, “Ice cream!”

  As soon as the words leave my lips, he’s pulled off me and I hear the sound of a fist hitting flesh and a pained yelp before I open my eyes to see Dean hovering above Christopher.

  “Dean,” I say on a breath.

  “It’s okay,” he says back, growling down at Christopher.

  He pulls out his radio, talking over it as I slide down the wall, the dress I’m wearing getting covered in soil. I can’t tear my eyes away from Christopher and the sneer that is on his face as Dean yanks him up.

  “What on earth is going on?” My head whips up at the sound of my father’s voice and for a fleeting second I think he’s going to come over to me, to tell me that everything is okay, that I’m going to be okay. “Get your hands off him, Dean.”

  “Sir, he was trying to—”

  “I don’t care what he was trying to do! Let him go.” Spittle comes flying out of his mouth as his face turns red.

  “He was trying to hurt Kit- I mean Katherine, I was just protecting her,” Dean fumes, widening his stance. “She was telling him no—”

  “Get up off the floor, Katherine, you’re embarrassing me.” He shakes his head and walks toward Christopher, asking him if he’s okay.

  “I think he broke my nose,” he moans to my father, narrowing his eyes at me and then Dean.

  “I’m so sorry about this, Christopher. It’s all Katherine’s fault, let’s get you inside and tended to.”

  My breath catches in my throat and I must make a noise because all their heads swing my way.

  “I said get up off the floor! Look at you, you’re an embarrassment, I don’t know why I even bother!”

  “Did you not hear what I said?” Dean growls, taking a threatening step toward them. “She was telling him no and he wouldn’t get off her.”

  “You’re done, you’re fired!” he shouts back at Dean, looking at me and tutting. “Look at the state of you, go and get cleaned up while I sort out your mess again.”

  I hardly hear the last of his sentence, focusing on the four words he said before that make me feel like my life is over. Dean was the only person who made me feel like I was worth anything and now he’s going to be gone and there’s not a thing I can do about it.

  He spins around to me, his face falling as his eyes mist over with emotion.

  He steps forward then helps me up and bends at the knees so he’s level with me as he cups my face with his large, calloused hands. “You need me, you call, for anything, Kitty. I’ll always be there for you.”

  “Please,” I whisper, looking into his light blue eyes, begging him. “Don’t
leave me with them.”

  He turns his head to look at my father and I do too, noticing my father’s security detail running over to us.

  “No!” I scream when they take ahold of Dean, dragging him away from me.

  The memory spins around and around in my mind as I watch the senator walk up to a man dressed in a tailored suit. I haven’t spoken to him since then and I can’t help but wonder if I called him now whether he would come.

  I snap several pictures, watching as the senator and the man shake hands and exchange a briefcase.

  “Gotcha.” I smirk, taking the photographs and knowing that I have the evidence to put him away now.

  It’s that time of year again. Today marks four years and all I want to do is stay in bed all day with a bottle of Jameson and drown my sorrows; to wallow in self-pity.

  But I won’t, I’ll get up, I’ll have a shower and go to Ma and Dad’s, just like I do every year on this day.

  Scrubbing my hands down my face, I turn my head to the other side of the bed. It’s been a couple of weeks since I threw Kitty out and I know that I need to talk to her, and I will, when this day is over. I just need to survive today and then I’ll be able to clear my head and talk to her.

  The sound of my alarm echoing through the bedroom has my ass moving out of bed and into the bathroom. My body works on automatic, my mind not really in the here and now. I’m in a fog, just like I have been the last three times on this day.

  I pull on some dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt, strap my gun to my belt and then make my way out of the house and into my SUV.

  I don’t turn any music on while I drive to Ma and Dad’s house, instead, I relish in the silence. Today isn’t a day for music, it isn’t a day to be happy. It’s a day of sadness, of heartbreak.

  I drive up the road that leads to their house, the house that is full of memories of Emmy. Of happy times, times of laughter. But it’s not those times that I think about, all I can see is her ghost everywhere and it’s too much, it has been since the day that she left me.

  “Charlie,” Ma calls when I step out of the SUV, opening her arms wide as I make my way up the steps to her house.

  “Hey, Ma,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and breathing in deep. She smells like vanilla and pies. It’s comforting and that puts me at ease a little.

  “Son,” Dad says, wrapping his arms around me once I let Ma go.

  His chocolate brown eyes, the same as mine, shine with unshed tears. It wasn’t just me that lost Emmy that day, we all did.

  “Old man.” I smirk, pulling away.

  “Huh, I ain’t no old man, I’m in my prime.” He pats his growing stomach and I look down and shake my head.

  “You been at Ma’s pies again?”

  “You know it,” he chuckles.

  We all head into the house and straight into the kitchen where Ma pulls the pot off the stove and starts to add herbs to it.

  “Smells good,” I comment, sitting on one of the stools at the counter.

  Ma looks at me, a sad smile on her face and clears her throat. Things are stilted and I know that it’s my fault. I hardly see them anymore; I just can’t handle being in this house, not when she surrounds me here. It’s too much.

  Ma places plates in front of me and Dad and we eat, again in silence. I can’t formulate anything, my brain to mouth function has stopped working, so I sit here and keep shoveling food into my mouth, not looking up from the plate.

  My eyes flick to the clock on the wall, wondering how long I’ll have to stay before it’s a sufficient amount of time without being rude.

  My skin itches and my feet tap against the floor, wanting to walk out of here.

  “How’s work going, son?”

  “Good,” I answer Dad, looking at him briefly and then back down at my plate.

  I drop the fork on the plate, the clunking sound echoing throughout the room before I steeple my hands in front of me. My eyes move to the windows that look out onto the fields and my stomach drops. I haven’t been out there for so long, maybe it’s time that I took the plunge and went there, without her.

  I push the stool back with my legs and stand up, shuffling my feet as I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

  “I’m gonna.” I try to clear the lump from my throat, but when it doesn’t work I tilt my head to the windows.

  They know what I’m going to do, where I’m going to go.

  I make my way out of the house and I don’t move my eyes off the fields that are on the back of the property as I walk toward them. Once I get to the edge, I stop for a second, knowing that once I step onto them, there’s no going back. The memories will flood me and I won’t be able to stop them, but it’s time; time I took the bull by the horns and did this.

  My boots sink into the grass that is waist high as I walk across the fields, the sun shining in the distance and blinding me.

  A sob bubbles up as I get closer to the spot, our spot. I walk another fourteen steps before I’m there, the place that she loved the most.

  I shove my hands on my hips and look out at the endless blue sky. My mind reeling back to the last time we were here.

  “I read this theory once,” her soft voice whispers.

  “Yeah?” I turn onto my side and watch her as she lies back and stares up at the dark sky.

  “It was something like, ‘when you die, your soul floats up to the sky and becomes a star.’”

  I chuckle at her and intertwine my hand with hers, bringing it up to my lips and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

  “Wouldn’t you like that?” She turns to face me, a soft smile lifting her lips. “Imagine what you could see from up there.”

  “The whole world?” I smirk.

  “Exactly!” She sits up excitedly, her face being taken over by the massive grin that lifts up her lips.

  “I miss you,” I choke out, dropping to the ground and picking out a blade of grass. “Why did you have to go? Why did you leave?”

  I don’t bother to wipe the tears from my face as they stream down my cheeks like a river flowing freely.

  “Why!” I shout, closing my hands into fists and banging them on the ground.

  I press my lips against Charlie’s as he places his coffee cup in the sink. “Love you.”

  “Love you too,” he whispers, cupping the side of my face and then he crouches down, kissing my bump and looking back up at me.

  His eyes bore into mine and it makes my stomach bottom out. Even after all of these years, he still makes me feel like he did that first day we met as teenagers. Me in a bad foster home and starting another new school, and him the popular guy on the football team.

  We were never meant to be together, at least not by the school clique system. I was the poor one, the one who wore clothes that were too big and dirty. The hand-me-downs given to me from the last group home.

  The first day I saw him in the hallway and his eyes connected with mine, I’ll never forget it. The connection I felt with him was instant and I knew he felt the same from the way he looked at me.

  For six months, we danced around each other until he finally kissed me and I can say with genuine honesty that it was the best day of my life.

  “Doctor’s office at eleven!” I shout just before he walks out of the front door.

  “See you there, Mama!” He chuckles and the sound of the door vibrates through the house as he closes it.

  My hand flutters down to my stomach and I rub it, looking down and whispering, “Love you, little bubba.”

  The kick to the ribs I get in response brings a huge smile to my face. Never in a million years did I think this would be me. Sitting at home, seven months pregnant and married to the love of my life.

  Ours is a love that only comes once in a lifetime, at least for me anyway.

  “Time to get ready,” I say to the baby girl inside my stomach. I know it sounds stupid but I do it all the time. It’s something that I started when I first found out I was pregnant and I haven’t st
opped. They say that babies can hear things in the womb and I now know that they can because I always get a response from her.

  It takes me twice as long to get ready, you know with there being a huge bump in the way and a baby sitting on my bladder making me need to pee what feels like every five minutes.

  My first stop is the store for some groceries. I stop and talk to all of the people behind the counters, asking how they are and any recommendations for fresh meat and fish. I end up coming out of there with twice as much food as I originally went in for, but it doesn’t matter because I’m in nesting mode and I want to make sure that we have enough food.

  Growing up not knowing when I would get my next meal, I tend to store food like a chipmunk stores nuts. I snort at that thought.

  Once I’m back in my car I tap my fingers on the steering wheel to the country music playing over the speakers, waiting for the light to turn green. My eyes flick down to the watch on my wrist, 10:40 a.m.

  I have twenty minutes to make it over to the other side of town for my appointment and the heavy feeling in my stomach tells me that it won’t be long before I need to pee… again.

  The light finally turns green and I press my foot down on the gas pedal, driving across the intersection.

  There’s a loud bang and the sound of crunching metal. I don’t realize what’s happened at first, I just feel the impact on my side and shut my eyes as my head hits the airbag then whips to the side, smacking off the window as I see the dump truck that has slammed into me. My arms wrap around my stomach on instinct, trying to protect my baby girl.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when my car screeches to a stop, my head hurts and I can feel blood dripping down my face, but I’m okay. We’re okay.

  That is until something hits me from behind and I know it’s going to happen before it actually does. I can see it playing out in my mind in slow motion before my car jolts forward with such force that we’re jammed straight under the dump truck and I feel something slice through my arms as the steering wheel crushes my stomach at the same time. My baby girl stops kicking and I know, I know that she’s gone and I wish, just for one second, for God to take me with her.