by Zoey Parker
I tell Kerry this.
She squeals again. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, my ear still ringing. “It’s just this is actually happening, isn’t it? You’re moving in with Luke Hanley—you’re having his baby,” she whispers the last part because she’s at work.
I’ve pulled her out from a school testing period, so I know I only have a short time to talk to Kerry. I couldn’t hold in the news, though. I snuck off from the work I haven’t been doing since Luke left the office after our lunch break and took Kerry’s call and my news to the bathroom.
A part of me sought her out because all of this is happening so fast. What if I jump into moving in with Luke, but it doesn’t work?
“It will,” Kerry insists. “Think positively.”
“I am trying to. I just don’t want Luke to regret this.” Then I smile, remembering how he reacted when he found out about the baby. I stroke my belly, my eyes on my reflection.
“I can’t believe I’m moving in with Luke,” I gush, a little giddy now that Kerry’s helped me wash most of the doubt away. “I’m still getting used to dating him. It’s strange though how everyone at work is cool with us.”
Kerry laughs. “Well, you are a stunner. They probably had bets going as to which of the single guys would land you.”
“Stop.” I laugh with her though.
She promises she’ll stop over after work to help me pack. “You’re pregnant. I don’t want you carrying too much.”
Luke had said the same thing, but he looked pretty busy on his way out to see Floyd to tell his father about me...and the baby. I wouldn’t be surprised if the two men decide to enjoy dinner, father and son, and Luke meets up with me later.
Kerry and I hang up and I’m gearing up for the last couple hours of work.
“Focus,” I chant under my breath, using the mantra to clear my mind as I exit the bathroom. Though it’s unisex, I’m not prepared to run into anyone. But there’s our newest sales rep, Ian, standing at the bathroom door.
He started three weeks ago, a little after Luke and I got back together, and I got on board with the alibi. Boy, did we take our fake relationship seriously.
But, I sternly remind myself, it’s not fake anymore. Luke does want me to have this baby, and he does want me to move in—permanently.
“Sorry,” Ian blurts. He backs up, his hands in the air. Then he drops them quickly, his face and ears burning red awfully fast. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I heard you talking in there, and I was wondering if you were all right.”
Not expecting that response, I suffer through the blabbering humiliation of being caught sneaking from work to talk to Kerry.
Ian nods, his face still glowing. He rubs the back of his neck, mumbling, “You have the key?”
Holding out the bathroom key to him, I smile and thank him again for the concern. He’s young and I’m sure he won’t care that I used the bathroom for such a reason. But I realize, looking around at my co-workers, my position here has changed. In one way I’m still the office administrator, but I’m also Luke’s girlfriend.
If I want to continue working at Hanley Auto, I have to prove I’m not using Luke for his money.
So for the next two hours I work, and I work hard. It takes more energy to wrestle my seemingly already pregnancy-addled mind, but I manage. And when it hits four o’clock, I grab my coat and purse, power down the computer, and push in my chair.
I do get a few stares then. Usually I’m not the first one out. I leave with everyone else once they finish chatting off-hours and we all file out to our cars as one big group. With a quick wave, I smile my way through the showroom and out the side door, rounding about to the parking lot.
Every time I make this trip, I recall how it led me to Luke. Once, I wished I hadn’t worked late and I hadn’t witnessed Russ and his friend murdering Derrick Smyth.
Now I’m almost glad it threw me in Luke’s path. Me and Luke Hanley—the thought makes me laugh even now. We’re so different.
We were so different. And now we’ve made our differences work for us, and we’re having a baby.
Like Kerry, I do a little squeal myself.
I’m driving home extra carefully, aware my mind is on an overload of happiness and being pulled this way. I manage to get home safe and sound, riding up to my apartment and getting inside to have a real good look of the place since I moved in. I’m trying to soak it all in.
I wouldn’t miss the late nights alone. And I wouldn’t trade Luke and this baby for another night here. This is my old life and I’m moving on.
“Okay.” I clap my hands, saying to myself, “Let’s do this, Erickson.”
I tackle my clothes first, rummaging out a mid-sized suitcase from the back of my closet. I pack the necessities: pajamas, work clothes, and all the sexy lingerie I recently procured. Then the toiletries, cleaning out most of my bathroom’s cabinet and sink glass mantle. I find a photo album that I stored away, the only thing I have of my parents.
Sure, I talk to them every other month, but phone calls and Skype can’t replace the real thing. Now that I’m pregnant, I’d see to it they at least acknowledge they’ll be grandparents.
Fifteen minutes into exploding most of my closet, dresser, and bathroom around my bedroom, I lift my head from folding blouses when I hear something at the door.
Someone is definitely knocking, hard. When they push the buzzer, I speed up, no longer believing it’s Kerry on the other side or even Luke.
I glance through the peephole, dropping back down as the ringer buzzes loud to my left. The door seems to shift with the excessive banging. I’m not clear on how much of it is my imagination and how much is very real, but I’m not dreaming up the man on the other side.
I’d recognize him anywhere, but I haven’t seen him since he pointed a gun at me. With the intent to kill.
Chapter 20
Lily
“I know you’re in there, Miss Erickson. Your car is in the lot.”
Miss Erickson?
Bang. Ring. “Let me in. Mr. Hanley sent me.”
“Luke?” I whisper, my hand reaching for but falling shy of the lock. My heart is racing, my breathing puffing out. I grab my phone, figuring I can text Luke, ask him for confirmation of this unexpected visit.
But he’s banging so loud, I can’t text straight. I get through the message eventually, relying on the spell check feature, and then I open the door despite the warning alarms sounding off in my head.
I’m thinking of Luke and Floyd and their family’s side business. This guy is connected to the loan shark dealings, I know that. I don’t want the neighbors’ gossiping and harming Luke or getting him in trouble with his father.
“Are you going to let me in? I told you, Hanley sent me.”
I leave the door at the sliver of a crack, enough for me to peer up at him and assess if he means to harm me. He’s dressed in head-to-toe black today again, but this time there’s no mask covering the lower half of his face. His glassy blue eyes stare down at me from his six-something, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his duster coat.
I don’t like that sight at all. “Hands?”
He sighs but draws them out. “I am armed, but like I said, Hanley sent me over here.”
“To help me pack?”
“Yeah,” he says. “To help you pack. So, you going to let me in?”
Slowly, I draw the door open wider, gesturing him in. I’ll be happy for his strong hands to help me out, but I am not going to play hostess. It’s hard to forget staring down the barrel of his gun, his finger snapping off the safety.
Taking him into the kitchen, I open some drawers and two sets of cabinets up top and reveal an array of silver tableware. I know Luke will have tons, but my mother, in one of her forgiving moments, gave me the family heirloom silver. My great-great grandmother started the tradition and I want to continue it with my children.
“Pack these up, please,” I tell him, pointing to the hall. “I’ll be in the bedroom if you have q
uestions.”
As I’m sitting down in front of my open, half-filled luggage, I check the vibrating phone in my pocket. Luke’s text is chilling.
Lily get out of there
Then he’s calling me, and I’m fumbling to slide the screen and accept the call, but he’s there—Luke’s thug, and he’s grabbing at my shoulders, crushing an arm around my middle. The phone is knocked from my hand and it hits the floor by my suitcase.
I scream, but it’s short-lived when his sweaty, salty palm slaps over my mouth, pushing down hard enough to make me scream in pain. He holds me up like a flailing, writhing doll, carrying us backward out to the living area.
My body goes rigid at the sight awaiting me there.
Art Dayton.
Dayton is looking handsome in a flashy suit, his hands preening and smoothing his emerald green tie. But it’s not his fashion sense that has me freezing up. It’s his nodding grimly at the couch and the thug manhandling me listening to the silent order.
Deposited there on my belly, I scream as soon as I can get my lungs to cooperate. The thug pushes me down, his big, meaty hand over my back, holding me fast to the sofa. That doesn’t stop me from praying the neighbors hear my screaming and call for help.
It’s the brush of the cool metal over my cheek that shuts me up.
“Huh? Look at that. Quiet as a mouse suddenly,” the big thug taunts.
“Mr. Raymond, I’ll ask you to lower your voice,” Art tells him.
“Hey, what did I say? It’s just Keith, okay?” He snaps at Dayton. “Shit, you’re only here because of me. So I think maybe you should sorta listen when I ask you to do something.”
I stare up fearfully at Art Dayton, begging for his help. He doesn’t even give me a look, his gaze on Keith Raymond.
I’m alone. Art is a bad guy. Just like Luke suspected.
I cling to the information I have. I have a full name to go with the thug, and without his scarf covering his face, I can work with a sketch artist to make sure he pays once I get through this.
And I would get through. I had to.
As if sensing I’m thinking of the baby, Keith pushes me down harder into the sofa. I groan.
“Now, record your damn questions already. I think she called someone, probably Hanley. If he suspects anything, we’ll both be dead before the sun rises tomorrow.”
“Hush,” Art narrows his eyes, his attention finally falling on me. “Did you call someone, Lily?”
I tighten my lips, glaring at him.
Seriously, he couldn’t think I’d share details with him when he orchestrated this bullshit. And all to get Luke charged with the murder of Derrick Smyth. Luke might have pulled the hit, but I know him now, and Derrick seemed to get what would be coming his way someday anyway.
I did my search online and everything Luke said checked out. Derrick was a bad man—an evil man, and no amount of jail time would cleanse him of his propensity to hurt others.
Besides, if anyone should be charged, it should be this brute crushing me with a fraction of his weight. It was his gun and his hand pulling the trigger killing Derrick.
“Lily,” Art shakes his head with a sigh. He pushes my name out in a clipped tone.
Art walks away, stepping out of my vision. His ominous footsteps thud softly from the room and they find a squeaky floorboard on his way back. “I see. You’ve been a busy girl.” He slides back into my vision, my phone in his hands.
“Guess we’ll have to speed this up.”
Art drops my phone on the coffee table and crouches in front of me, his hand reaching out and digging into my hair. He yanks my hair tie out sharply, smiling cruelling at my yelp and tearing eyes.
“We could have been magnificent—you and I, but you tossed that away for a criminal.”
I can’t help snapping, “I’m looking at the real criminals now.” I cheer for my bravado. As quickly as he slaps me, Art tugs my head back sharply by my hair and pushes his face in close, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“Lord knows I’d like to fuck that mouth of yours, but I need it more for this.” He magically produces a pocket-sized voice recorder, waving it tauntingly in my face. “You’re going to tell me Luke Hanley had his men murder Derrick Smyth. Better yet,” Art grins manically, “you’re going to say the great and wonderful Luke Hanley, Potentia’s Oz, pulled the trigger himself.”
“I won’t—” I start, another slap silencing me.
He wouldn’t bully and batter me into saying those words though. Luke will be here soon. I know it. When a tear leaks out, Art snarls.
“You stupid bitch. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? How long I waited for that bastard to slip up?” Art unloads some history on me. “I asked to be assigned here, you know.
“Did my research, knew all about the Hanley's game in St. Louis. They’re almost legends there. Toeing the line of black and white, paying the right people to look the other way. I, on the other hand, dedicate sixteen years of my life to law enforcement.
“It all went to hell one night and the next thing I know, I’m staring unemployment and a shamble of careers straight in the face,” he spits his rage out in my face, his hot breath forcing me to blink my eyes. “Then I have this opportunity land on my lap. Come here to Potentia, keep my head low, look for a way out, a way back to what I deserve.”
Keith yawns and Art breaks off to glare his way. “Now here I am, dressed down by a lowly town’s low-ranking police chief, a man I once could have ordered to bring me my coffee,” Art laughs bitterly.
Setting the recorder down under my head, he clicks it on, a red light glowing to indicate it’s recording. Art pulls my head back and stands, reaching for his fly.
“Finally, some fun,” Keith chuckles darkly.
“No,” I beg, voice weak. “Please, don’t do this.” I appeal to Art, but I realize he’s no different than Luke’s traitorous thug. He’s hell bent on ruining Luke’s life, and that means ruining me now.
For a second there are no other sounds than my sniffling and the sound of their shifting clothing as both men work their cocks free. I feel Keith’s hard dick bumping my leg over my jeans. I squirm from it until he grabs me and snaps, “Don’t move.” He bumps my cheek with that dreaded gun.
“Why didn’t you choose me, Lily?” Art breaks off, his hand moving from his open fly to smooth over the cheek he’s been abusing. My skin is hot and throbbing there, and I draw back from his touch.
This sets him off again. “I’m going to fuck you and this is going to record our wonderful noises. I’ll make sure to send a copy to Luke, so every time he gets between those thick thighs of yours, he’s going to know I got in there too.”
The sound of sirens splits the air.
Both men still, like a calm before the real storm hits. And it hits hard. Activity explodes all around me.
“I’m out of here.” Keith hops off me. I hear his zipper slide blessedly closed, his gun moving off my cheek.
Art also moves, releasing the hand tugging the hairs out of my scalp. I’m seeing stars still from Art’s slapping, and my body is aching from Keith’s rough handling, but I half-turn, half-slide up on the armrest, shifting into a position to keep my eyes on my two almost-rapists as they turn on each other.
Art beats Keith to the door, reaching inside his blazer. The detective trains his gun on his fleeing partner.
Keith laughs. “You idiot. You won’t shoot. You care too much about getting that fancy, old life of yours back. My death would certainly set you far, far away from it. Killer cop doesn’t have as great a ring to it as hero cop, now, doesn’t it?”
“Or,” Art says, coolly, “I came here to ask Miss Erickson some further up questions, and I saw the door ajar and you on top her, ready to force yourself on the poor woman.”
“She won’t take that sitting down.” Keith’s voice has a wavering to it though, and he asks me, “You won’t, will you? Let this bastard get away with it? He’s the one who started this. I didn’t want to c
ome here. But he made me do it.”
I couldn’t process any of this now. It had to be the shock setting it, numbing me to their squabbling.
“And who’s going to believe her word?” Art is saying, his question high and reedy. “Maybe I’ll kill her too, blame your ass for that as well.” Art barks a laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. There’s no mention of me in her cell message to Hanley. This has your name written all over it.” Before Keith can get a word in, there’s a loud bang, a groan, and a thud.