Karen Rose - I’m Watching You

„I hadn’t planned to tell anyone. Then I missed one period, then two, and I didn’t know what to do. So I told my parents.“

His hold on her tightened. „And they didn’t believe you.“

„An unmarried pregnant daughter was worse than a drunken dead one.“

There was a long, long pause. „I hate your father, Kristen.“

She rested her cheek against the rock hardness of his chest. „So do I.“

Another long pause. „Do you see her? Savannah?“

Kristen’s heart squeezed. „No. We agreed they’d send me a picture every year on her birthday, and if she ever asked about me, they’d tell her that I was young and alone and couldn’t care for a baby.“

„Which is all true.“

„Yes. When she’s eighteen they’ll let her choose whether she wants to meet me.“

„They’re good people, then.“

Her eyes burned. „Yes. And they love her so much.“

„Then you did the right thing,“ he murmured. Carefully he put the album in her nightstand drawer. Then tilted up her chin and claimed her lips in the sweetest, gentlest kiss. Her heart swelled in her chest and when he lifted his head she could only look at him as the words raced through her head.

That’s not all I need to tell you. There’s something wrong with me.

Please don’t mind. Please don’t let it matter.

I love you.

His eyes flashed, brilliant blue. „Say it again. I want to know you mean me to hear it.“

To deny him was never an option. „I love you,“ she whispered.

Roughly he pushed her to her back and followed her down, his mouth taking unquestionable possession of hers, his hands cupping her face, his body insistently thrusting. „Tell me you want me.“

„I want you.“ She did. Throbbing a primal rhythm in response to his passion, her body lifted against him. Her hands clumsily pulled at his shirt until she’d parted it to his waist, touching his chest, shuddering when he groaned.

He stripped away her robe and knelt between her legs, yanking at his cuffs until the buttons popped off. She sat up and holding his gaze, unhooked her bra and dropped it off the side of the bed. He did the rest, getting rid of her panties and his pants, then he stopped. And he stared. And her mouth went dry.

This wasn’t the slow, considerate lover she’d known. He was frantic, shaking, hanging on to his control by a thread. She severed that thread when she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down on her. Their kisses were wild and open-mouthed, lips and cheeks and any piece of skin they could reach until she was vibrating under him.

„Abe, do it. Now.“

And he did, entering her hard and deep, groaning into her mouth when she cried out. He plunged wildly, taking them higher with every thrust into her body. She felt the now familiar tightening of her inner muscles, a miracle after so many years alone, then she fell into the heaven she’d found only with this man, her climax stunning in its strength. But what was the true gift was the expression on his face, the stark beauty of his features as he reached his own peak, the shudder of his body as he spilled himself into her.

He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving as he struggled for breath. She stroked his broad back and waited, knowing the instant he came back to himself. He stilled, drew a deep breath. And said the words she’d waited a lifetime to hear.

„I love you, too.“ Then he rolled them to their sides, cup-ping her buttocks and pulling her close so they remained as one.

A long time later, well after she’d thought him asleep, she felt the rumble of his voice against her cheek. „Kristen, I’m sorry. I forgot about protection.“

„It’s all right,“ she murmured.

He didn’t say anything for a minute. „So the timing’s not right?“ he asked, tentatively. She heard disappointment in his tone, faint, but there.

She swallowed convulsively. „No, it’s not right.“

And it never would be.

I’ll never have the child you want, Abe.

She waited for the words to spill from her mouth, wished they would tumble as effortlessly as all the other thoughts had. But Abe was obviously right. That only worked when she really wanted him to hear it. Because this, she didn’t. Not now, not ever.

Saturday, February 28,

9:00 a.m.

She hurt.

It was the first coherent thought Zoe had as she surfaced from the fog that enveloped her.

She was moving. That was the second thought. There was an eerie sense of floating. Then reality began to descend and with it the vile, unbearable images.

Oh, God, I hurt. He hurt me . She shuddered, remembering the brutality she’d endured at the hands of Drake Edwards. She tried to whimper, but her voice was gone. She blinked, tried to determine her surroundings. There was white. Lots of white. Maybe I’m dead Please let me be dead . Death was preferable to Drake Edwards. The movement slowed and she became aware of doors, of passing through doors, then the movement stopped.

„How long before she comes to?“

Nooo . Again she wanted to whimper, again no voice. It was Edwards. He was here. Dammit. She wasn’t dead.

„Looks like she’s awake now. The drug should fully wear off in an hour.“ The other voice was new. Who? What drug ? „Until then she won’t move or speak.“

„Good.“ There was satisfaction in Edwards’s voice. She’d heard it often since he’d stolen her from her apartment. „I want her to be able to claw and scream.“

There was silence from the other man and then Edwards’s cruel chuckle.

„You’re not paid to like it. You’re paid to just do it.“

A sigh. „If we take out the padding, they both will fit.“

Padding ? Frantically, she tried to look around, but her head wouldn’t move. She strained her peripheral vision to the left. And her breath hitched.

It was a coffin. She wanted to scream.

„I don’t care how you accomplish it,“ Edwards said. „Just do it.“ His face appeared above her and a wave of nausea threatened to choke her. He smiled, the same predatory smile she’d seen in Conti’s office. When had that been? What was today?

„You asked for an interview with Jacob, Miss Richardson,“ he said mockingly. „Unfortunately, Mr. Conti is occupied this afternoon. It’s his son’s funeral. He has, however, arranged for an alternate interview. Talk as long as you like.“ He moved her head, turning it so that she could see his body to her right. „It’s Emmy material.“

He moved away, laughing softly, allowing her full view of what lay to her right.

Zoe’s heart froze in her chest. It was a body in a black suit. With no face.

It was Angelo Conti. They were going to bury her with Angelo Conti. She screamed and screamed, but the sound echoed only inside her head.

Saturday, February 28,

11:15 a.m.

It was the first time Kristen had been in a Catholic church and she had no idea what to do. Luckily there were a lot of Reagans present, so all she had to do was follow along. There were benches on which to kneel and congregational readings to recite. There was the sacrament of Communion and the thundering organ. There was a priest in full regalia, swinging incense and a gold baptismal font next to which stood a beaming Sean and Ruth.

There was family. So much family it made Kristen’s heart ache. There were also more than a dozen cops in the pews, all carrying firearms. Friends of Kyle, Aidan, and Abe, all there to ensure there was no trouble from Conti or anyone else. Mia came, as did Spinnelli. Todd Murphy was even there, his suit freshly pressed.

Kristen watched as the priest took the baby, smiling into her little face. The deep breath she drew didn’t go unnoticed by Abe at her side. „Beautiful, isn’t she?“ he murmured.