Katie
I step into the darkened house, my head spinning and my heart thundering in my chest. It was such an amazing weekend. It really was like something straight out of a fairy tale. The Aquarium, the dresses, the shopping – everything – it's something that happens in the movies, not in real life. And certainly, not to me.
I drag all the bags inside and leave them by the door as I close and lock it behind me. Walking into the kitchen, I reach into the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water, twisting the cap off, and take a long drink, relishing the feel of the cool liquid sliding down my throat.
I lean against the kitchen counter in the dark, finishing off my bottle of water, enjoying the silence of the house. I'd gotten a text message from Jessa while we were in Atlanta that she and some friends were taking a road trip to New Orleans, and that she'd be back in a while. Which, to Jessa, could be anywhere from a day to a couple of weeks.
It's good, though. I'm glad she's getting out and having some fun. She deserves it.
Of course, that means I'm going to be here alone the whole time she's gone, and she hasn't given me lessons with her gun yet. Ordinarily, I wouldn't stress about being here alone. Not in the least. But, with Victor running around out there, and everything that's been going on, I'd rather not be alone.
I could have gone to Aidan's – he'd asked me again to come stay until the Victor situation is resolved – but I declined the invitation. I don't want him thinking I'm scared. I mean, I am. And I probably should be. But, I don’t want him seeing that. I don't want him to worry. Now, I'm thinking that might have been a hasty – or maybe just a stubbornly prideful – decision. It wouldn't be the first time I've done something like that.
I just have to keep believing that I'm being paranoid. I mean, the odds that Victor actually knows where I am are remote. I know that. But, the thought that he might still sends cold chills through my body. I know if he ever finds me, if he ever gets his hands on me again, it's going to end very, very badly for me.
The only saving grace in all of this is the fact that Aidan has people keeping an eye on Victor. I know that can't be a long-term solution, and that one way or another, we're going to have to come to some decisions very soon. But, at least knowing that somebody knows where he is, and will presumably tip Aidan off if he's coming for me, will let me sleep at night.
Speaking of sleep – I'm exhausted. It was an incredible weekend, and I had more fun than I think I've ever had in my life – not to mention the best sex ever – but I'm paying the price now. All I want to do is take a hot shower, crawl into bed, and sleep for the next three days straight.
I throw the water bottle in the recycling bin and turn on the lights, flooding the front room in illumination, as I step out of the kitchen and into the living room – and then freeze. My eyes grow wide and my heart thunders in my chest as white-hot bolts of fear lance through my body.
“Hey, baby,” Victor says. “Missed you.”
He's sitting in the oversized recliner in the living room, a large and wicked looking knife in his hands. He spins the blade, making the light glint off the blade, calling my attention to it – which was probably his intent. He has a cruel smile on his lips, and a look of pure hatred and contempt in his eyes.
“W – what are you doing here, Victor?” I manage to croak.
“I told you I was coming for ya, baby,” he says. “I told you I'd see you soon. Did you think I was kidding? Don't you think I'm a man of my word? When I first saw you, I thought you got all fat and shit. Imagine my surprise to find out you're carrying some bastard.”
“G – get out of my house,” I say, cringing at how weak my voice sounds.
“Found yourself a new man, huh?” he asks. “Rich guy, I take it, given the fact he's got a driver, and you look like you got a new wardrobe. Yeah, I always knew you were nothing but a worthless, gold-digging whore. Figures you'd find yourself a sugar daddy who buys you nice shit for a piece of that ass. What I can't believe is that you got yourself all knocked up. How many times did I tell you I wanted a kid? But some guy flashes some cash, and all the sudden, you're droppin' your panties, and carrying his kid?”
“I – it's not like that,” I say, not even sure why I feel the need to defend myself.
“Sure, it is,” he hisses. “You suck his cock, he buys you a dress. You have his kid, you're set for life. That's how this shit works, right? I mean, I get it. I’m not even mad, really. I know that havin' that kinda money in your life would be nice. Real nice. So, I don't really blame you for being a whore.”
“Fuck you, Victor.”
A wide smile stretches across his greasy face. “Oh, trust me, we're going to do plenty of that,” he says. “Only, I won’t buy you dresses afterward.”
He stands up and paces the room, still twirling the knife around in his hand menacingly, making sure I get a good, long view of it. I look at my purse, sitting on the kitchen table. Inside is my can of pepper spray, and my phone. Though, given how useful either is to me right now, they might as well be a million miles away. There's no way I'm going to be able to get to my bag before Victor – and that knife – are on me.
Fuck. What am I going to do? How in the hell am I going to get out of this? Why in the hell didn’t I just go home with Aidan? I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Berating myself with those questions is pointless right now. There's nothing I can do but deal with what's right in front of me – Victor.
The last thing I can afford is to show weakness around him. I need to stand strong and make him believe I'm not afraid. A guy like Victor only respects those who are stronger than he is. Those who can take him down. I may not be able to do that, but I can certainly toughen up, and fight tooth and nail. For me, and my baby.
“You know, when you left, you gave me a concussion,” he says.
“You're lucky I didn't break your skull,” I hiss. “I should have. Should have just beaten you to death and saved us both all this trouble.”
He smirks. “Yeah, maybe you should've,” he says. “Kinda glad you didn't, though.”
“What do you want, Victor?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I want you back, baby,” he says. “We had a good thing between us, and I wanna put that back together.”
“No, we didn't have a good thing,” I say. “And I'm never coming back to you. I'm done. Period. I thought that was obvious by the way I left.”
He laughs. “Oh, c'mon now, baby,” he says. “Sure, we have our ups and downs. Every couple does. But, we can work through that shit. We can get it all sorted out. Right?”
“Get out of my house, and leave me the fuck alone, Victor.”
He stops pacing, and stares at me, giving me a look that sends chills running straight down my spine.
“Or what?” he asks.
“Move on with your life, Victor,” I say. “Find a woman who actually wants you.”
“I want you though,” he says.
“I don't want you,” I snap. “I haven't in a really long time.”
“That really hurts, Katie,” he says. “I thought we were good together.”
“Leave,” I say, my voice cold and firm. “Now.”
He looks at me and sighs. “Is this your final answer?”
“Beyond final.”
He shakes his head and when he looks at me, I see regret flash in his eyes. It confuses me. Why in the hell would he be feeling regret?
“Okay then,” he says. “I really do love you and wanted to work it out, Katie. I really did. I guess we gotta go with plan B though.”
“Plan B?”
He nods. “Yup. See, I'm taking you back to Atlanta. That's not a question,” he says. “Once we get home, I'm gonna turn you over to the Cobras and contribute to the stable of girls they're running. Figure you're still young and pretty enough that you'll be one of their best earners. That'll help me finally make it in with them.”
“Fuck you,” I gasp, horrified by what he has planned for me.
“Oh, I plan on it,” he replies.
I turn and sprint for the door, but Victor beats me to it, driving the point of his blade into the wood next to my head. He grabs me by the arm and throws me backward. I stumble and land on my feet, several feet away. Gasping, and trying to catch my breath, I look up and see him approaching me, a malevolent look upon his face.
Knowing my survival is at stake, I scramble backwards and head for the hallway that leads to the back rooms. Victor's hand clamps down on my arm, and he spins me around.
“I tell you what,” he says. “I’m just going to fucking drag you out of here.”
He reaches down and grabs a handful of my hair. I catch him off-guard with a fast, hard elbow to his ample gut. His eyes widen as his breath comes out in a pained whoosh. I know I only have a moment, so I seize on it, rushing away from him. I know I won't make it out the front door before he catches me. I don't know what else to do, so I dart behind the dining room table, keeping it between us as he approaches.
Too late, I realize I should have grabbed my purse, where I could have grabbed my pepper spray, and my phone. It's closer to him than me now, though, so it's not going to do me any good. About all I can do at this point is keep the table between us until I come up with some other brilliant plan.
“You bitch,” he hisses. “Fucking whore. You'll pay for that.”
“Get the fuck out of here, Victor.”
“Not unless you're coming with me, bitch.”
“Like hell I am.”
Victor keeps feinting one way, making me move the other way to stay ahead of him. His smile is greasy, his teeth yellowed and nasty. He's clearly enjoying this psychotic game of cat and mouse. There's a glass sitting on the table, so I grab it and hurl it at him. He moves to the side and out of harm's way before the glass gets anywhere close to him. It hits the front door and explodes, spraying shards of glass everywhere.
“Need to be better than that, baby,” he says. “When I catch you – and I will catch you – I'm gonna fuck you a lot better than that old rich asshole has.”
“Please,” I hiss back at him. “He's more of a man than you can ever hope to be, you pathetic piece of shit. You don’t even fucking compare to him. Not in a million years – especially with that tiny pencil dick in your pants. You couldn't satisfy a coma patient who hadn't had dick in three decades, you piece of shit.”
I know I probably shouldn't provoke him, but I'm hoping that if I piss him off enough, he’ll do something stupid and give me an opening I can use to escape. I have no doubt that on open ground, I can outrun him over longer distances. Even as pregnant as I am, I'm still in way better shape than Victor, and I know that if I can get out the front door, he'll never be able to catch me.
Victor's face darkens and contorts with rage. He grabs one of the dining room chairs and hurls it. The chair bursts through the window, spraying glass and splintered wood out into the driveway. His breathing is ragged like an enraged bull, and his narrowed, porcine eyes are glued to me.
“You just keep diggin' your ass in deeper,” he says. “I don’t have to be nice to you on the way back to Atlanta.”
“You're never taking me back to Atlanta!” I scream. “Get it through your thick fucking skull. We are done, asshole.”
He roars in fury, grabbing one end of the dining room table, and hurls it. The table crashes against the chair hanging half out of the window, the noise sounding like a cannon shot. Now, nothing stands between Victor and me.
He glares at me with a crazed look in his eye, the knife in his hand glinting wildly. He licks his lips and takes a step toward me. I have nowhere to run. There’s nothing I can do to save myself. I let out a scream of absolute rage as he approaches and launch myself at him, my fingernails leading the way. I'm not going down without a fight, and if he wants to take me back to Atlanta, he'll have to take my cold, dead corpse.
He howls in rage as I rake my nails down his cheek, opening long, bloody furrows in his skin. Blood runs down his face as he delivers a vicious backhand that sends me stumbling into the living room, where I bump into one of the lamps on the end table, knocking it to the floor with a loud clattering noise.
It's then that the whole scene becomes even more surreal than it had been to that point.
The front door bursts inward, the locks shattering as pieces of metal are sent flying. Aidan strides into the room, his hands balled into fists at his sides, and murderous intent shining in his eyes.
“Who the fuck are you?” Victor gasps.
“You okay, Katie?” Aidan asks without even looking at me.
“I – I'm fine,” I reply.
A knowing smile spreads across Victor's face, and he nods. “Ahh, I get it,” he says. “You're the one who's fucking her now. You're her sugar daddy.”
“I'm going to give you one chance to get out of here,” Aidan says, his voice cold and devoid of all emotion.
Victor responds by rushing at Aidan, the knife held out in front of him. Aidan sidesteps the rush, but Victor slashes behind him as he passes. I hear Aidan grunt and see a small cut has opened up on his upper arm. Aidan puts his hand over the wound and looks at Victor, his handsome face twisting with rage.
Victor rushes him again, but Aidan is ready for him. He catches Victor by the wrist and bends it backward at an unnatural angle. Victor howls in agony as Aidan delivers a punch to his exposed throat. Victor's cries become strangled and choked as he gasps for air.
The knife hits the floor with a clatter as Aidan continues to bend his wrist backward. Victor falls to his knees, his face twisted in agony. A moment later, I hear a loud pop and crunch, as Aidan delivers a hard punch straight to Victor's face. He falls backwards and clutches his nose, blood pouring from between his fingers.
Aidan turns and sees me sitting on the floor watching him. After delivering a hard kick to Victor's midsection, drawing a groan of agony, he quickly crosses the room and falls to his knees at my side. He picks me up, and carries me out of the house, hustling me out to the SUV where he slides me into the back seat.
“Watch her carefully,” he barks at the driver. “Do not let anybody near her. Nobody at all. You got it?”
“Yes sir,” he says and slams the door, plunging me into darkness.
Through the window, I watch Aidan walk into the house, my stomach rolling in fear, not knowing what he's doing or what's going to happen to him. I beat against the window of the SUV, calling his name, tears rolling down my cheeks.
A few minutes later, I let out a sigh of relief when Aidan storms back out of the house, his face dark and tight with anger. The door is opened and the rush of cool, night air washes over my skin.
“He's gone,” Aidan says. “Piece of shit ran out the back door.”
His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw clenched tight. Aidan is beyond pissed off. Angrier than I've ever seen him – even after that time he dealt with Leon in the bar. With his steely eyes, hard features, and dark stubbled jaw, Aidan cuts a very imposing, almost malevolent figure when he's this mad.
“Okay, that's it,” he says. “You're coming to stay at my place.”
I open my mouth to refuse, but he gives me a withering glare that makes me close it without saying anything.
“No questions,” he says, his tone firm and commanding. “This is not a debate. You are not staying here. Not with that asshole running around out there. You are going to stay with me, where I can protect you. Period.”
I don’t like being told what to do. My gut-level reaction is always to argue and rebel against orders or authority. But, knowing what I do now about what Aidan went through with his fiancée, I understand why he's so fiercely protective of me. I also understand why he's so invested in making sure I'm safe.
It also gives me an indication of how he feels about me – something that fills me with a warmth and joy I've never known before. It's a stupid time to even be thinking about that. This is most definitely not the time to explore my emotions. Not with Victor out there trying to abduct me, and worse. I know the timing is bad, but I can't help it.
I also know that staying at his place makes sense from a practical perspective. Not only does Victor not know who Aidan is or how to find his place, the fact that his estate has high walls and all kinds of security measures – not the least of which is a six-foot-three mountain of a man who can beat the shit out of a piece of trash like Victor – will most definitely give me a measure of security.
Hopefully, it will also buy us time to figure out what we're going to do about Victor – because right now, I really don't know. He's a problem we desperately need a solution for, but I don't know what that solution would even look like. First things first, I guess we need to call the Sheriff.
As we sit there, I'm gripped by the most intense pain I've ever felt in my life. My belly cramps hard, and I cry out. Aidan is by my side in a heartbeat. My entire body hurts, but the most intense, shooting pain is in my lower abdomen.
“Katie, what's wrong?” Aidan asks, panic infusing his voice.
“I – I don't know,” I say and let out a strangled cry. “Something's wrong, Aidan. Something's wrong. Call an ambulance.”
He looks around, panicking, indecisive. A second later, his face is firm, and there is determination in his eyes. A steely resolve.
“We don't have time to wait,” he says.
He calls for the driver, and a moment later, we're racing off into the night, headed for the hospital.
* * *
Some hours later – I don't even know how many, to be honest, time ceased to exist for me after the epidural – I'm lying in a hospital bed. I'm wrung out and exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Aidan is right by my side, stroking my hair, and placing gentle kisses on my forehead.
I'm guessing the stress of everything with Victor made me go into premature labor. We got to the hospital safely, and I delivered the baby, after a long, grueling process. I should feel sad or angry or happy, but I’m in too much shock. My head and body are both numb.
“It's going to be okay,” Aidan says. “Everything is going to be okay.”
I give him a tight smile, wishing I could believe his words. Judging by the sound of his voice, I don't know that he quite believes his words, either. His face is pinched, and the strain is really showing around his eyes. He's doing his best to put on a brave face for me, though, and I love him for that.
After I delivered our baby, the nurses took it away. I didn't get to hold my baby. I don't even know the gender of our child – we had wanted to keep it a surprise. Or if the baby even survived the delivery. Being born premature can lead to a lot of complications. Deadly complications. As I think about it, my heart seizes up, and I can't stop the tears from falling.
Aidan holds me close and whispers calming words in my ear. I know he's as scared as I am, but he's doing a far better job of holding it in. I wish I had an iota of his strength right now.
“We don't even know if he or she is alive,” I mutter miserably. “We don't even know if it’s a boy or girl. I didn't even get to hold our baby, Aidan.”
I sob softly, and Aidan holds me tight. It's as if he knows that's exactly what I need right now. My head is so full of shit right now, I don't even know what I'm thinking or feeling.
There is a soft knock at the door, and a moment later, the doctor steps in. She's a middle-aged woman with a kind face, and sorrowful eyes. She pulls up a chair next to my bed and gives my arm a gentle squeeze.
“How are you feeling, Katie?” she asks.
It strikes me as a really stupid question. How in the hell does she think I'm feeling?
“How is my baby?” I ask. “They took it out of here so fast, I –”
“He,” she says softly.
“What?”
“He,” she repeats. “You had a baby boy.”
Aidan and I share a look. A son. We had a son. We exchange a soft smile, but the feeling of dread still overwhelms me. The doctor used the word “had.” Past tense.
“What does that mean, doctor?” Aidan asks. “You said had.”
“I'm sorry. Poor choice of words. You delivered a boy,” she corrected herself.
“And how is he?” I ask.
“He's a fighter, that one. Stubborn as all get out,” she smiles.
“But, how is he?” Aidan presses.
She sighs. “Well, he's not out of the woods yet. Being born this early presents some challenges, as I'm sure you can imagine,” she says. “So, we're going to have to keep him in the NICU for a while. We just need to make sure everything checks out before we release him.”
“How long?” I ask. “How long does he have to stay here?”
She shakes her head. “I really don't know at this point,” she says. “But, like I said, he's a fighter, and I'm very optimistic that he's going to be able to come home to you sooner, rather than later. One thing for you to keep in mind, is that at seven months, most babies are already viable. Ninety-four percent of babies born at seven months survive with no ill-effects at all. We just want to make sure that everything has developed properly, and there are no lasting complications, before sending him out into the world. It's mostly precautionary. Personally, I feel that everything is going to be okay, and that your son will be home with you soon.”
Relief explodes in my chest, and I let out a long sigh I hadn't realized I was holding. The doctor leaves us alone, and although I'm still scared, I'm cautiously optimistic.
Aidan gives me a warm smile. “See? Everything is going to be okay.”
“She also said he's not out of the woods yet.”
“Let's not give in to our dark thoughts and worst-case scenarios,” he says, and plants a kiss on my forehead. “Our boy will be coming home soon.”
“Our boy,” I say, almost dreamily. “We had a boy.”
“Yes, we did,” Aidan says.
I desperately want to feel the optimism and hope I hear in his voice. But, I'm scared to get my hopes up. Not with all the bad shit that has happened to me.
And of course, with Victor still out there, I really have no guarantees that everything will work out in the end anyway. As much as I long for the fairy tale, happily-ever-after ending, my life has read more like something from the Brothers Grimm – and that leaves me worried.