by Eve Langlais
“I would still marry you. Because I love you. Don’t you love me?”
There was a deadly dare in his stare. A challenge to reject him one more time and see what happened.
“Of course, I love you.” She faked the best smile of her life. The one that would win her awards if she acted. “It would be my deepest honor to marry you.”
“Only honored?”
She hid her swallow behind a smile as she said, “I meant pleasure. I can’t wait to be your wife.”
He clinked her glass with the other. “We will marry, and soon.”
“How soon?” she asked.
“Soon enough that no one will dare call my child a bastard.”
“Does it really matter in this day and age?” she said lightly.
“It does to me.” He gripped her chin, hard enough that she’d notice bruises the next day. “Now, toast with me. This is a wondrous day, my love.”
No, it was the start of a nightmare. That same evening, she became a virtual prisoner, only allowed to leave the house while with Ronin or under guard. Clearly, he was taking no chances with his new wife.
Yes, wife. He’d gotten his way within forty-eight hours. Mostly because the person officiating didn’t care if she actually mumbled an assent. She’d worn a white lace gown, and he a tux. The female guests scowled the whole time.
Within the week, Ronin had her seeing an obstetrician on a regular basis. At the first ultrasound, he left bragging of his virility when they discovered that Macey carried twins. He restricted her activities even further. Assigned a guard to her, then two.
It was during her second trimester, on her way to a doctor’s appointment, that it happened.
The doors to the elevator had almost shut when fingers slid between them and popped them apart. Chen bristled and made to act, only to settle down when a woman with dark skin, her hair tucked in a tight chignon, wearing a smart suit, entered the elevator with them. She held a phone to her ear and spoke in English, “Call you back, getting on the elevator.” She reached forward and pressed for the top floor.
Chen, behind and to her left, ogled her bum and mimed grabbing it to hump, while Tao, the other babysitting guard, smirked. And they wondered why they were single.
Pigs, both of them, but not when it came to Macey. While they might not like the fact that they’d been assigned babysitting duty, they respected Ronin’s wife—everyone remembered what’d happened to Kyle.
Kyle had only said something complimentary about her smile. Ronin didn’t handle his jealousy well. Rumor had it that when the police came to see him at the hospital, he’d written on a pad that he’d sewn his mouth shut himself.
Chen, in Mandarin, said, “Think she gags or takes it like a pro?”
A rude query, to which Tao chuckled.
The woman suddenly turned, her ruby red lips curving into a smile. “Is that any way to treat a lady?” she asked in perfect Mandarin before shooting them both.
Bang. Bang. The shots were muffled by the short silencer. The bodies collapsed, and Macey’s jaw dropped open.
Oh, shit.
She retreated until she smacked the rear wall of the elevator. “Please don’t kill me,” she pled as she cupped her very rounded belly.
“Don’t freak. I’m here to rescue you. That is assuming you want to leave your husband.”
“This is a trick,” Macey said, shaking her head. “Another one of his tests.” Ronin enjoyed playing games with people. And then punishing them if they failed.
“I promise, this is no joke. I can get you out of China and away from his influence.”
Oh, how she wanted to believe, but she’d lost hope months ago. She shook her head. “Ronin will never let me go.” It wouldn’t matter how far she ran; he’d find her.
“Do you really think he’ll hold on to a dead woman?”
The chilling statement had her trembling. “I don’t want to die.”
The woman snorted. “I’m not actually going to kill you. Just make him think I did.” She winked. “Trust me, I am good at what I do.” The elevator kept rising, past the floor for her doctor.
“Who are you?”
“My friends call me Marie. I’m a problem solver, especially for women like you.”
“Like me?”
Her face turned serious. “Caught in a terrible situation with no way out.”
“You have to stop talking. If Ronin hears any of this, he will kill you.”
“First, he’d have to find me. And who says I won’t kill him first. Come with me.” The elevator stopped on the very top floor, and the door opened. Marie stepped on the seam between the cab and the floor, hands spread enough to hold the doors ajar.
Macey hesitated. What if this was a trick? He would punish her.
Then again, every day, every hour, every minute was punishment. Would she subject her babies to the same treatment? They deserved better.
She placed her hand on her baby bump. “How much will this rescue cost me?”
“No more than you can give. The people I work for can protect you.”
The statement roused her suspicion. “What people?”
“Secret ones. Powerful. Rich. Connected. We can make it so Ronin never touches you or the babies,” Marie added softly.
“If you really wanted to help me, then you would kill him.”
“We will certainly try, but as you’ve noticed, he’s well protected.”
“And vengeful.”
The elevator doors tried to shut but bounced back open.
“I need you to decide,” the woman declared. “Are you staying with him or coming with me?”
Macey’s phone went off in her purse. She knew that ringtone. Hated it.
Ronin called.
Did Ronin watch her even now?
Macey eyed the bodies at her feet.
This stranger was a killer, and yet she offered a way out.
Macey nodded. “Help me.”
The helicopter alit the moment the door to the rooftop shut. Marie kept her promise.
That same day, Macey disappeared, kidnapped by persons unknown, only to die in a fiery helicopter crash. Dead and burned to a crisp.
Or so everyone believed.
Meanwhile, a whole continent away, Portia Stalone was born. She spent the next few years at the Canadian Killer Moms training compound with her twins, born at thirty-five weeks, five pounds two ounces, and six pounds one ounce, respectively. Lin and Mae. Her reasons for living.
When they turned two, she was moved to a suburb in Toronto and commuted into town a few times a week to work in a medical facility that Marie finagled a position for her in.
Eventually, Macey relocated to a bigger place in the United States with a fully-funded private lab run by some pharmaceutical company, less bound by Canadian laws. It provided her the cover she needed to play with cool machines and create neat concoctions.
Macey spent the decade following her escape paying back Killer Moms for saving her life.
Chapter One
Picking the twins up from their private school, Portia noticed a dichotomy. All the kids milling in the yard and on the sidewalks were doing something: bouncing a ball, chatting with friends, shoving each other, or chasing. Not her girls.
Much like the twins in The Shining, they stood side by side in their identical uniforms, alone and looking unnervingly tidy alongside their peers. At only nine years of age, they shouldn’t be so serious.
When was the last time she’d seen them play with childish abandon? What about exercise? Surely, it wasn’t healthy for them to be reading and on the computer all of the time.
Then again, she’d had her face stuck in a book at that age too. Still, as she noticed the separation between them and the other children, she couldn’t help an anxious spurt of worry that wondered if she parented them wrong. Was she failing at motherhood?
Impossible. She’d read all the instructions. So many tomes of knowledge. She’d applied the techniques she liked most to great
success. Just look at their accomplishments. Speaking in full sentences by the age of one. Walking before that. Potty trained by two. Reading before they even went into kindergarten. As a matter of fact, scholastically, her brilliant daughters were a few years ahead of the other children their age. Socially, though, they appeared to be lacking.
Portia had obviously forgotten what it was like to be the smart kid in school. The way other kids had shunned her because she actually enjoyed learning. Because of her social awkwardness, Portia had eschewed friendship for lonely pursuits. It wasn’t too late for her daughters. Mae and Lin had each other, at least, but they needed more than that.
Of late, she’d noticed the girls getting terse with each other, the uncanny closeness stifling. Mae at least appeared to be chafing. The fights were coming more frequently. They’d even decided to inhabit separate rooms for the first time. Mae didn’t even wait until Portia had painted the guest bedroom before moving her stuff in.
The separation between the two didn’t result in either of her girls getting out and socializing more. They needed friends. At the very least, a hobby that didn’t involve studying.
On the drive home, she saw the solution to getting them out of the house and not only meeting new kids but also getting exercise, all while learning a skill. Multi-tasking at its finest. Not that she mentioned that. Instead, she presented it as a practical thing.
“You want us to learn to kickbox?” Mae said with a wrinkle of her nose.
“I don’t want anyone to hit me,” Lin added, just as repugned.
“Martial arts are about learning how to protect yourself,” Portia encouraged. “It will be fun.”
“How is getting hematomas fun?” Mae, the child of big words—that she could not only pronounce but also spell.
“I’ll bet it’s gross and sweaty.” The pout on Lin’s lips actually made her seem her age.
“You have to try it at least once,” Portia replied. It was one of her parental rules. They had to give something a proper chance before she’d agree to let them quit. Food, activity, even movies.
“Once. And if I get hurt, then I get ice cream,” Lin declared. She had a sweet tooth that Portia hadn’t succeeded in curbing.
“She’s going to let herself get smacked on purpose,” Mae declared. “Just so she can stuff her fat face.”
“As if I’d intentionally gain weight,” sniffed Lin. “If I do eat some sweets, I’ll do a little extra cardio on the stairs at home.”
“Might want to double that now that you’re drinking coffee in the morning,” Mae tattled.
“Lin! You told me it was hot chocolate,” Portia hotly declared.
“Not exactly. I called it hot mocha. You assumed the wrong kind of beans.”
Portia gripped the wheel. Outsmarted again. It stung, mostly because she’d thought herself pretty intelligent until she became a parent. Apparently, they had an answer for everything.
“We’re here.” Portia pulled into the plaza where she’d seen the sign. Flamingo Martial Arts decorated with a pink bird in sunglasses balancing on a single leg, wearing a headband, and a black belt. Surely, that made it child-friendly. Right?
The girls were silent in the back. Too quiet. Portia had learned early on that silence didn’t bode well. It was true what they said: twins could communicate, and they did so often to plot. The first real scary silence had occurred the time they escaped their crib, Lin giving Mae a boost. When they were younger, the girls had always relied on each other. Always worked as a team. As a mother, Portia had to be doubly careful to not let them outnumber her. Add age and cunning…the thought of their teenage years terrified her.
Especially since they’d never really been children to start with.
Did I push them too hard?
Portia parked and unbuckled before turning around and brightly saying, “Ready to check it out?”
“We’d rather jab each other with sharp sticks,” Mae declared. Her penchant for the color blue—blue jeans and pale blue sweatshirts, or navy blue jumpers with an offsetting white shirt—went well with her dark and morbid streak. Aunt Joanna, the one who minded them while Portia worked, enjoyed antagonizing Mae by calling her Wednesday Adams.
It fit. Now, if only she could find a Gomez.
“You haven’t even given martial arts a try. How do you know you won’t like it?”
Lin tilted her head. She was the very girly, preppy twin, with her long hair combed into a straight sheen, and her lip gloss always freshly applied. When had her girls gone from child to pre-teen? It felt like she’d blinked and…bam, they were growing up way too fast. She needed to reel them back. Make them into children again, at least for a few more years.
“You told us we’re not supposed to hit people,” Lin reminded.
“Yes, well. Um.” Portia exited the car and thought quickly of a reply. Her twins often did this, using Portia’s own words against her. She opened the rear passenger door. “You should know how to defend yourself in case you’re attacked.”
“Why would someone attack us? We know not to go to bad places.” Said with all the eye-rolling arrogance of youth.
“But that’s just it, bad places can happen anywhere. Which is why you should be prepared.” It was the best argument Portia could offer.
Little miss Wednesday Adams had a smirk as she said, “Then maybe you should have some lessons too, Mother. We wouldn’t want you to be unprotected.”
Lin hopped right in on that. “Yes, Mother Dear. If we must learn to hit things, then we should do it together.”
The manipulation proved most obvious, and she could have easily countered by telling the twins that she’d already taken lessons and could probably put any teacher on his ass. But rather than fight it, Portia saw a chance to spend time with her girls. “You’re right. I should be prepared, too. I think this is a great idea. The Stalone girls, taking a class together.” She smiled as she wrenched open the door, setting off the little bell.
They walked into a small reception area with tile floors and a shoe rack with a sign. Please remove all outdoor footwear. The rest of the open space consisted of cushioned mats, while the mirrored walls lined with bars reflected the room and its occupants. It resembled, in some respects, a dance studio.
Someone appeared to be crouched behind the counter, only the shaggy top of a head showing.
“Give me just a second,” rumbled the man, his voice deep.
Portia set her purse down on the counter and waited as he finished tucking something away in a cabinet. When he rose to face them, Portia blinked.
“Ted?” Her lips clamped tight, too late to take it back.
The man with the chiseled jaw covered in a thin beard glanced at her, no recognition in his gaze at first. That only lasted a second before his eyes widened. “Macey? Holy crow, I didn’t recognize you for a second there. You changed your hair. It’s been a long time.”
She almost bit her lower lip as he used her old name. Her before name, which her daughters must have heard and yet, neither said a word. She wouldn’t make a big deal about it, not in their hearing range at any rate.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen you since our senior year.” They’d both graduated at the same time, her with honors.
“You went off to university, didn’t you? On some scholarship.”
“Yes.” Then she went on to work for a medical institute doing cutting-edge things. Which was where she’d met the wrong man, and things went downhill.
“Did you graduate?”
“Do I seem like the type who wouldn’t?” she asked with an arched brow.
He made a face. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. Of course, you became a doctor.”
“I did.” She kept her answers short and clipped. She needed to get out of here and quickly before Ted said something she couldn’t explain to her daughters.
“These your girls?” he asked, resting his gaze on them. “Hi. I’m Ted,” he said, holding out his hand to her solemn Wednesday first.
/> Her daughter shook it and eyed him. “Mae.”
Lips pursed, and dimple showing, Lin practically shoved her aside to grab his hand next. “And I’m the cute one, Lin. Mother brought us to your lovely dojo to sign us up for lessons.”
Lovely? What was happening here? Her daughters, being nice? Even more reason to leave.
“I was going to register, but looking at your schedule, it appears as if those beginner classes are at the same time as piano.” Portia only partially lied. The twins had piano, but they could easily work Ted’s classes around it.
Mae tittered. Actually tittered as she said, “Oh, Mother. Piano is on Tuesday. We can still come Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
“Maybe even Saturday,” Lin hastened to add, batting her lashes.
Portia regarded her suddenly too-keen daughters, both of them staring at Ted. Handsome Ted, the football player, whom all the girls wanted to date in high school. He’d asked her out once, but she’d turned him down to study for a test. Which she’d aced. Perhaps if she’d been more social and dated a bit more, she’d have had the savviness required to not fall for Ronin’s lies.
“I don’t know. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I know how Lin feels about possibly getting hit in the face. And Mae doesn’t like to sweat.” Portia used their previous excuses to try and get out of it.
“Mother!” Lin exhaled with annoyance.
“She’s chickening out,” Mae declared. And then she clucked.
Which proved embarrassing but not as much as realizing that she was being a coward. Seeing someone from her past could result in danger. But only if he told someone about her. Who would he tell? They’d barely known each other in high school. He’d obviously moved from their small town.
To whom would he blow her cover? Even if he told his mom, or a buddy back home. So what? It wasn’t as if it would get back to Ronin. For one, he wasn’t even looking for her. It had been almost a decade since her fake death. He’d moved on.
There was no danger. She had to stop worrying all the time.
This studio was convenient, smack dab between the girls’ academy and their house. Not to mention, her daughters needed to do something. How better to get them interested than with a teacher they were both eyeballing like that science experiment in the tub last semester.