There didn’t seem a time when he wasn’t there.
I didn’t want there to be a time when he wasn’t there.
And I was terrified. Two days, no Creed. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. I felt it in my bones. He’d never leave me. Never disappear. Never make me wait to start our new lives.
Never.
Something was very, very wrong and that something had to do with taking Creed away from me.
I stared at the lake, our lake, the place we met, laughed, swam, ate, necked and made love.
“Come back to me,” I whispered.
I closed my eyes tight, using everything I had, praying hard, hoping, when I opened my eyes, I’d feel Creed moving toward me.
I opened my eyes and saw lake.
I twisted around and saw the dark grass, wood and pasture, all empty.
I twisted to the other side.
More empty.
No Creed.
I twisted back to the lake, my lips trembling, my nostrils quivering.
“Come back to me,” I begged, the tear slipping over my eye and gliding down my cheek.
*
I fell asleep on that pier.
Creed never came back to me.
*****
Three days later…
I paced the room.
How did this happen?
How was this happening?
And where was Creed?
He had to be out there. Maybe he’d heard something was wrong. Maybe he knew Daddy knew about us. Maybe he was working to save me.
He had to save me.
There was noise outside. My heart jumped and my gaze swung to the locked door of the room I’d been held in since Daddy found me.
The door opened and my father and a man walked in.
Daddy led the man to me. He couldn’t meet my eyes.
The man was looking at me.
I stared into his eyes and I did not like what I saw. Not at all.
Not at all.
My stomach clenched so hard, I thought I would throw up and I backed up, up, up, up until my body was in the corner.
“Sylvie, I’d like you to meet Richard Scott,” Daddy said to my shoulder.
Richard Scott smiled at me and I did not like that smile. Not at all.
Not at all.
He came toward me. Daddy looked to the floor and I pressed myself into the corner.
Oh God.
Oh God!
Where was Creed?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Consider It Done
Present day, eighteen days later…
I sat on a tall stool at the bar in a swank restaurant staring at myself in the mirror behind the bar and not much liking what I saw.
My hair was three times its normal volume and I had five times as much makeup on. I was wearing a skintight black dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It had a straight bodice that sat low and tight making my not altogether spectacular cleavage nearly spill out and thus, exposed cleavage, as everyone knew, miraculously became spectacular. It also had spaghetti straps and the little ruffle (yes! a ruffle!) at the hem was the only thing that, when I was standing, saved me from having my ass cheeks hanging out. Sitting, it was a disaster. In other words, near-to crotch shot. Last, on my feet were spike-heeled, bronze sandals that I had to admit where hot but they fucking killed, even when I was sitting.
Serious yuck.
So not me.
Suffice it to say there was nowhere, as in no-freaking-where, to stash a weapon.
This meant I felt exposed in more ways than one and it sucked.
The only good thing was, I’d had my mani/pedi done the day before and in that getup they looked awesome.
My eyes slid to the art deco clock behind the cash register and I dipped my chin and muttered into the microphone taped between my shoved together and pushed up tits, “He’s half an hour late.”
In the transparent ear bud receiver tucked in my ear, I heard Hawk Delgado’s deep voice reply, “He’ll show.”
It was go time on Hawk’s job and I was meeting the contact to set up the principals in order to bring them down.
I was antsy for action.
This was partly because I hadn’t had a drink or cigarette in two weeks. I didn’t know if I was pregnant but the amount of effort Creed and I were putting into making me that way meant that undoubtedly would happen (I hoped) and I wasn’t taking any chances. As the days went by, it was getting better but I wasn’t there yet.
This meant I was in a bad mood.
Further, shit was falling into place and I wanted this job done.
I put my house on the market and, miracle of miracles, I got an offer that was acceptable within a week. This, I figured, was because I didn’t really give a shit what it sold for, so the buyers got a screaming deal but, whatever.
Money didn’t mean anything to me.
Starting my life with Creed did.