by ANGEL PAYNE
He narrowed his glare. “Of course, I’ve fucking noticed. That being said, do you really think I did this just to be ‘cute’?”
I shoved out air through my nostrils and stomped across the room.
The bastard did the same, stomping the opposite direction.
“Abbig—”
“No,” I spat. “Just. Don’t.” Neither of my snarls helped to dissipate my outrage. I was just more pissed off now—enough to fire at him, “Next time you want to get me a gift, buddy? A candle or some fucking flowers will suffice!”
Only then did I realize that I still clutched the brown bag, the offensive purple box sticking out the top like a wino’s stash. I whipped it away like it had turned into a snake—right at the asshole across the room. The top of the box hit Elijah’s head so hard, it bounced off his hard skull and smacked into the large window beside him. It shooshed down the glass and thumped to the floor. The box fell free from the bag, its brilliant violet letters landing face-up. Taunting me.
And now driving me into a full fight-or-flight.
I stormed down the hall to my room and slammed the door. The entire wall shook, and I watched the hanging artwork tremor with a vaguely satisfied smirk. Which, of course, quickly dissolved into rolling, raging tears.
How dare that bastard stick his nose into our personal life? How dare he insinuate I was so naïve, I wouldn’t know if my own damn body was with child or not? And how dare he possibly be right?
And in that case…how dare I?
I couldn’t even comprehend it. How dare I? How could I? How could I bring a child into this dangerous situation? Into this world where I couldn’t even be with its father right now? In which we wouldn’t be able to share any of the happy, exciting…terrifying times with him or my family or friends?
I angrily wiped my face. Desperately pushed the horrible thoughts away.
Elijah was wrong. He had to be.
Nevertheless, I pulled up the calendar on my cell phone. Swiftly, I searched for the last time I’d had my period. I usually kept careful track, even in the days before Sebastian, so I’d know to be “prepared” on the Abstract delivery runs. But time had gotten warped since I’d been at this house. Everything was out of sorts. I barely knew what time of day it was anymore, let alone how it related to the passing days and weeks. My period had been the last thing on my mind.
Three weeks.
Four.
Five.
“Oh, God,” I blurted. No. Nooo! How could this be happening? How could it really be close to six weeks since I had my period last? How had I not have noticed I was late?
That answer came with agonizing speed. I had been so wrapped up in everything else, I hadn’t been paying attention. But how could I possibly care for a child if I couldn’t even count fucking days on a calendar?
And now that the possibility was horrifically real, I didn’t even have the test to take for clarification. It was back on the floor, next to where I’d thrown it at Elijah like a child confronted with the truth about Santa Claus. I’d have to wait a bit and sneak back out to the great room and see if he left it sitting out somewhere. Or maybe I could ask Dori to bring me a test next time she went into town. Oh, yes! Much better idea.
I cracked my door open to go find her. I paused, like a naughty kid listening for—why not—Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. If I heard Elijah moving around anywhere, I’d just tuck back to my room.
I didn’t hear a thing.
Except the crunch that resulted when my toe hit the damn shopping bag—which had been placed just outside like a sentry guard.
I was really starting to hate him.
But I swallowed my pride and snatched up the little package. After locking my door, I hauled the offensive box all the way out. There was only one way to restore my peace of mind—whatever that was anymore—and to prove him wrong, as well. That happened right now.
I went into my bathroom and peed on the damn stick.
Five minutes later, and two solid—and I mean very solid—blue lines later, the truth was confirmed.
I definitely did not have a stomach bug.
Chapter Six
Sebastian
“You scored how many goals? Are you sure it was that many?” I laughed as Vela’s version of a girl growl stretched across the miles between us and tugged at every string of my heart. Good-naturedly teasing her, even over the phone, was one of my favorite pastimes. By contrast, there were still too many damn papers on my desk left to sign.
“I am! It was! Ask Mom!” Vela insisted. My answering smile was a welcome stranger to my face, making me not want to end the call.
“Actually, little star, is your mom there? I need to talk to her before I go into a meeting.”
“You work too much, Uncle Bas. We haven’t seen you in soooo long. And when is Miss Gibson coming back from her trip? I miss her too.”
“You and me both, baby,” I muttered.
“Okay, here’s Mom. Love you.”
“I love you more. Study hard.”
“Of course! I’m a Shark!”
I was still chuckling when my sister came on the line.
“You bring out the fire in that girl’s soul, Sebastian.” Pia laughed softly. “I don’t know what it is, but I swear she stands an inch taller after she talks to you.”
“I will always be here for her. You know that.” I vowed it to my sister with an ache in my chest that always swelled for these two ladies.
“I do. What’s going on? How have you been? How’s Abbi?” she asked tenderly.
“I think we’ve been better. The separation has been difficult for both of us.”
“I can only imagine.” But her tone told me something different than the pledge. That she didn’t have to imagine. That she understood the solitude of my spirit all too well. Not that she was about to dwell in that emotional space. “Well, I’m continuing to stay extra vigilant and watchful, though there’s nothing new to report from this side of town. I do appreciate Elijah dispatching an extra man to assist during Vela’s games. The parks are a little tougher for me to watch over than simple school pickups and playdates.”
“Of course,” I said. “Say the word, and I’ll have him give you an extra guy for those too.”
“No.” Her voice was adamant. “You know where I stand on all this.”
“Oh, I definitely do.” I didn’t hide my exasperated sigh. “But you’re not going to be giving Vela any sense of normalcy if you or she are taken by these bastards—or worse.”
A beat of heavy silence from her end. Another. “So…exactly how did you say Abbi was doing again?”
I spared her from the sigh this time. Wouldn’t have done me any good. When Cassiopeia Shark was determined to change a subject, the ruling was law.
“She’s okay,” I finally said. “I mean, as good as can be expected, given this clusterfuck of circumstances…”
“Annnd?”
“And what?”
“What are you not telling me?”
I whooshed out a long—but resigned—breath. “The desert isn’t exactly…agreeing with her,” I muttered.
“In what way?” Pia pressed.
“She picked up some sort of…virus…or something. A stomach bug, I think. Still, she’s thinner. And paler. I’m worried, Dub.”
“Sounds like you should be,” Pia returned. “It sounds like you’re both under a lot of stress—and it’s not doing you any good.”
“Her more than me.” I rubbed my forehead, which was already throbbing at ten o’clock in the morning. “Elijah isn’t exactly the nurturing type, so I’m very thankful the staff at the safe house is mostly women. They’ve been mothering her like crazy.”
“Yeah, that is good,” Pia concurred. “Something’s definitely going around. That’s why Vela is home today. I mean, she seems fine right now, but the midnight blow-and-go session wasn’t so pleasant.”
“Thanks for sharing,” I deadpanned.
“Just keeping it real, Your
Majesty,” she teased back.
“Ugh. The poor kiddo,” I lamented. “I’ll have some of those flower fairy books delivered to her. I think she was telling me that a new set came out this week.”
Pia sent back a grateful sigh. “Best. Uncle. Ever. Thanks, Bas. That really will make her day.”
“Done,” I said. “But listen, I need to hang up right now. Grant will be here in five minutes.”
“And that means we have to hang up?” she jibed.
I grunted. “He and I have some scheming to do. We’ve got serious problems brewing in the Malaysia corridor again.”
“Oh, no! Now what?” There was genuine curiosity in Pia’s tone. “I thought you just finished working that deal out.”
“This is different than what I was there working on. There are maritime pirate stories in the mainstream news this morning. Never a good sign when the big cable channels catch wind of stories with buzz words like ‘pirates’ in them. I mean, everyone in the business knows that shit is going on every single day, but the rest of the population does not. Once it leaks through to the folks sitting around the dinner table watching the nightly news, the criminals start attracting too much attention for their screwed-up causes. Just encourages more of the bad behavior.”
“Ugh.” She huffed. “No kidding. Well, let me know if I can help. Tell Abbigail we were asking about her, okay?”
“I will, Dub. That will make her happy to hear. Hopefully I can bring her home soon.” I hoped she could hear the smile in my voice.
“Talk to you soon. Love you, Bas.”
“Love you too, Pia.”
After we hung up, I quickly reread Grant’s earlier email. I’d given it a harder perusal on my first pass, making sure I separated the actual facts of the situation verses the media uproar about what was happening in the world’s southern hemisphere. But I wasn’t sure that feat was completely possible, given all the information being skewed in every outlet’s story. I needed to contact my sources on the ground in that region and get the data from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.
My COO’s unique knock—two quick raps, one short pause, two more quick raps—sounded on my office door. We’d used the bootleg Morse Code signal since we were kids, showing up at each other’s houses at all hours of the day and night. Whether we were in trouble, in need, or just plain lonely, Grant and I always had each other’s backs. We were into our second decade as brother-close best friends, and I couldn’t imagine my life without the man in it.
“Enter,” I called out.
“Hey.” Grant issued his usual response while efficiently shutting the door behind him.
“Hey, man. How you doing?” I didn’t look up, instead focusing on finishing a final email before I could give him my full attention.
“Not too bad.”
“But?” I spoke it because his tone already implied it.
“But just once, I’d love to walk in that door and have you look at me. Like it mattered that I just came in the damn room.”
Immediately, I dropped my face into my palms. “Excuse me?”
“I just don’t get why you’re so rude all the time.”
“Are you serious?” But when I looked up, the truth was there across his face. “Holy shit. You’re serious.”
He shook his head, giving in to more of his apparent hurt. “Forget it.”
But that was the thing. Now I couldn’t.
Was all of this actually happening?
“It’s called familiarity, Grant,” I finally stated. “I’ve known you longer than anyone else in my life. Other than Pia, obviously.” I rubbed my temples and decided to get some ibuprofen from my bathroom while I defended myself. “I just assume there is a level of comfort between us that I can’t have around others. Is that wrong now? Do you want me to treat you with the formality of a stranger?” I emerged from the bathroom with my arms spread. “Fuck, man, give me some slack. You act like a woman on her period sometimes.”
Grant was already stretched out in his usual spot on my black leather sofa. Thankfully, he didn’t have his feet up on the coffee table, so we could avoid beating that dead horse this morning.
“Damn,” he muttered while I lowered into the chair facing him. “You’re right, man. I’m sorry for jumping your shit the minute I walked in.”
“It’s fine,” I grumbled. “We’re all tense, for obvious reasons. And you’ve had one of the shittier shifts too.”
“Hmmm. Might have to agree with you there.” Despite his sardonic words, the guy laughed out the delivery. “Seriously, I think I’ve been spending too much time around Rio Gibson. That woman…is a demon.”
I narrowed my gaze. “But you’re laughing about that too.”
“I…I am?” Grant stood. Sat. Stood again, Okay, the guy was always restless, but this was an even bigger dose of his nervous energy than usual. It continued as he beelined to the kitchenette to fetch a bottle of water. As he turned and tossed one to me, I took a chance to eye him with curiosity. “Probably overcaffeinated,” he explained. “I’ve been up since four a.m. at the kitchen. Those women work their asses off, man.” He took a big gulp from his bottle. “It’s shocking how much effort goes into the lunch run alone—all for demanding bastards like us, who don’t want to be bothered with getting their own damn lunch.”
“Well, I can have Elijah put one of the other guys in the kitchen,” I offered. “If the schedule, or Rio’s attitude, are becoming too much to deal with…”
“I can handle her, damn it.” Grant’s protest had me double-taking again. I couldn’t figure out if his vehemence was defensive or offensive, and that alone was strange. Twombley was usually one of the straight shooters in my life.
But what about my life had been usual lately?
But now wasn’t the time for cosmic questions. I cut to the core of the matter at hand here. “To be really honest, man, I’m not even certain the tight surveillance on her is necessary anymore. It doesn’t seem like anyone has been sniffing around since we moved Abbi out to the desert. Whoever took those pictures of her seems to know she’s not in LA anymore.” I thought quietly for a second, attempting to be more relieved than troubled about that, before adding, “I mean, nothing new has been sent to me. And there have been no more wildlife visits in my backyard either. That’s a good sign, right?”
Grant didn’t respond right away. He took a full beat to compress his lips and flare his nostrils. “I’d rather stay near Rio, if it’s all the same.”
“Of course.” I kept my response neutral.
He relaxed his stance. “Thanks. I think it’s for the best. Even though she won’t admit it, she’s spooked. And, believe it or not, she’s finally starting to trust me.” He inserted a new chuckle, seemingly as an afterthought. He was doing a lot of that in this conversation, I’d noticed. “Besides, I don’t think there’s any way we can really guarantee whoever is behind this—”
I cut him off with a hard huff. “It’s Viktor. Damn it, why are we all still dancing around the problem like we don’t know who’s causing it?”
“Fine, fine.” He flung up his hands, palms out. “But if that’s the case, I’m still not convinced he wouldn’t do something to Abbi’s family—Rio, Sean, or even any of her brothers back east—to flush Abbigail out of hiding.”
He finished the last of his water and tossed the empty bottle in the recycle bin beside the trash can. As he finished, my best friend lifted his stare back to me. We held the mutual regard for a couple of moments.
“What?” Grant prompted at last. “What is it?”
“I just don’t get it, man,” I confessed with a grimace. “I mean, the dude can have any trim he wants in the state. Probably anywhere. Why is he playing with me like this?”
“You’re right. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?” He parked a hip on the corner of my desk and folded his arms. “Don’t get me wrong; your woman is beautiful, and I know there’s a lot about her that you love. But to go this far out of his way for someone el
se’s girl?” He studied the skyline with a slow shake of his head. “Moreover, Abbigail’s made it very clear she’s not interested in him.”
“Exactly. None of it is adding up, by even a fraction,” I said. “The efforts he’s already gone through…they’re over-the-top, even for him. And why? Just to taunt me? Or scare her?” I recognized how crazy the words sounded, even as they tumbled out of me, but I was still trying to make all the puzzle pieces fit together here. My instinct was still casting a mold my logic couldn’t fill.
Grant pushed back to his feet. He walked all the way back over before pausing again, his stance braced with somber stiffness. “Bas? Has he contacted you in any way you haven’t told us about?”
“No!” I spat. “Of course not!”
“Don’t get snippy. You’ve had a crappy few weeks, which means you could’ve overlooked something. Just a stupid detail somewhere.”
“You seriously don’t think I’d remember something like that?”
“Just turning over every stone, man. Nowhere has there been any phone message or skipped email? Anything that could be the terms of a deal? No actual threat, no quid pro quo type of bargain?”
I motioned him back toward the sofa. “Nothing,” I retorted. “And yeah, I know it’s odd. So unlike Blake. You and I have been dealing with that bastard nearly as long as we’ve known each other. We’ve negotiated with him enough times by now to know how he operates.”
Grant stretched his long legs out in front of him. “And this definitely isn’t it, my friend.”
I gripped the chair arms until my knuckles went white. “The bastard I know would’ve come out of the gate flaunting his goddamned terms. Typically, he lays down his hand as soon as all the cards are dealt. He’s a straight shooter when he wants something.”
Grant folded his arms again. Knocked his head back and stared at the ceiling. “All right, so what if…”
“What if what?”
A new exhale from him. “What if we’re following the wrong trail altogether?”
“Explain.”