ROMAN (Lane Brothers Book 5) Read online

  He stands from the sofa, string down at me with his jaw clenched and ticking.

  “This isn’t over.”

  Oh, but it is, I think silently, watching him stalk to the mantle with agitated strides and a slump to his shoulders that I’ve never seen.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vincent

  It’s been three days since dove left me. Three days of forcing myself not to pick up the phone and call her, three days of sleepless nights and miserable regrets.

  When I’d answered that phone, happy for the first time since we’d spoken, and realized she had every intention of leaving me, for good—well, I can honestly say I still go into panic mode just remembering her terror-filled voice and the sounds of Eric yelling and shooting at them.

  How I’d kept myself together long enough to get there…

  When I’d walked into her apartment and seen the broken window, only to be met by a hysterical Bee yelling at me that my dove was alone on that roof, with an armed psychopath, it had unleashed that part of me that I keep well hidden.

  That part of me that had grown up in the East End, fighting and scrapping my way towards my ultimate goals. I’ve worked tirelessly to bury the old Vincent, who’d used his fists and superior size to survive.

  That night I’d felt him rip free of the leash, and good thing, too, considering what I’d seen when I’d vaulted onto the roof. For the rest of my days I will be haunted by the vision of my dove with a gun shoved into her forehead.

  If I’d been a minute later, I know that I would have had to cradle her lifeless body instead of the bloody wreck I’d found. Of course, now I want to kill that piece of shit instead of just getting him fired and beating him senseless for daring to lay hands on my woman.

  I just have to find him first, something that’s proving incredibly difficult at the moment, no matter how much manpower or money I throw at the problem.

  Eric Brennan has dropped off the face of the earth.

  My phone rings, pulling me back from my murderous thoughts, and I answer it with a bark.

  “Er, sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a Mr Beechum on the line for you. He says it’s important and that you’ve been waiting for his call.”

  “Yes, Marcy. Thank you.”

  I’ve been waiting for the ex-Marine to call me back after I’d put him on the job of finding the missing Eric Brennan. The man is reported to be the best in his field, and if he’s calling me this soon I have high hopes.

  “Mr Blake.”

  “Mr Beechum, tell me you found that bastard.”

  “We picked up a lead that he was hiding out in a little hotel down in the Bronx, but he’d already split by the time we got there. I have eyes and ears out for the guy, though. From the looks of that room, you did a lot of damage. He bled all over the place.”

  A small thrill of satisfaction arrows through me at the knowledge that I'd at least hurt the son of a bitch enough to cause long-lasting damage, mollifying me for the moment.

  It’s killing me that it’s taking this long to catch the piece of shit because I know that getting dove back to New York and into my bed is next to impossible until I either get my hands on Eric or the law catches up with him.

  I want her back, now, right this minute, and I can’t even approach the subject until I’ve assured her safety.

  “I want that fucker.”

  A loud chuckle reaches my ears, and I grit my teeth to stop myself from cursing the big Marine.

  “I understand, sir. We’re collaborating with that guy Jeffrey Parker has on the case, and we’re confident we’ll have our guy before the week’s out. Just relax and keep calm. We’ll get him.”

  I don’t answer, not needing to, and end the call, leaning back in my seat with a weary sigh.

  At this rate I won’t have dove back in my bed where she belongs before the New Year. That thought rekindles my conviction, only to leave me flailing when I think of that hurt look in her eyes when she’d all but accused me of having an affair with that model.

  I admit I’d purposely gone out and been photographed with the woman in the hopes that she’d see the pictures—my pride’s reaction to hearing that she’d spent almost twenty minutes with Preston Blake.

  When I’d seen the photos and the time stamps, the way he’d been smiling down at my dove…I’d gone a little crazy, I admit, and done the first thing I could think of.

  Getting laid and rubbing it in her face.

  I should have realized the minute those pictures had crossed my desk that it was a set-up, that Preston was using, or trying to use, dove against me. I know now, and despite the determination, hurt, and pure anger I’d seen in her eyes, I will not allow this to be the end.

  She’s made my world a bright place again, and I refuse to give that up just because her girly feelings have been hurt.

  Yes, I have every intention of flying down to Texas and bringing her back home. I just have to ensure that her home is completely safe and Eric free before I can do that.

  Dove doesn’t know it yet, but I have no intention of ever letting her go. Not in six months, not ever.

  ***

  Another wave of nausea hits me, and I lunge for the toilet, groaning through an intense series of dry heaves that leave me spent and unable to do anything but flop back to the bathroom mat and lie there in misery.

  It’s two in the morning, thank God, or I’d be so busted already, and I’ve been dry heaving for the last fifteen minutes despite the fact that my stomach is bone dry and devoid of so much as a drop of food.

  I can’t deny it anymore, no matter how much I want to. I’m either suffering terrible food poisoning—please, Jesus, let it be food poisoning—from the nachos I’d inhaled yesterday at lunch, or I’m knocked up.

  “Oh God, please don’t let it be true,” I whisper into the darkened bathroom, flinging an arm over my stinging eyes.

  I’ve been back in Texas for just a little over two weeks now, and I’ve been iffy the entire time. Mama’s starting to give me funny looks, and it’s all I can do not to puke all over the place just from nerves.

  “Shit, Sis, you’re gonna need to sneak out and get to the doc’s—”

  But no, if I go to old Doc Bear’s the whole damned town will know before lunch, and that I don’t need. Not now. My bruises have finally started fading to that light, sickly yellow, and I feel almost well enough that Mama has let me off the chain a little.

  If she finds out I’m preggers, I can guarantee the evil woman will have me on bed rest and make me go in a bed pan. She’s been way too weird lately.

  Drug store.

  With my mind made up and resolute, I heave myself to my feet and grab onto the bathroom counter, breathing deeply as I catch my breath and try to shake the woozy feeling in my head.

  If that test is positive, I think I might just kill Vincent Blake. Leave it to that arrogant ass to have super sperm that can bypass protection.

  Flopping onto the bed, I roll over and stare at the ceiling, feeling lonely and so needy for his warmth and the strength of his arms, I can barely stand it.

  Being angry and fooling myself into thinking I don’t want him isn’t working, not when I look at Mama’s sunflowers and think of him. Or when Mama had used fresh mint leaves in one of her flower arrangements. I should have realized then, when I’d teared up at the sight of those stupid leaves, that something was wrong.

  Damned pregnancy hormones.

  If I am pregnant.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Two pink lines scream back at me the next day as I plop my ass onto the toilet seat in the Lazy Eight diner’s bathroom. I’d managed to give Mama the slip this morning and bribed Toby, a relatively new ranch hand, into giving me a ride into town.

  The drugstore had been empty, thank God, and I’d purchased the test, along with some tampons—my heart had been hopeful on that score—and paid the cashier, giving her an extra fifty if she swore not to tell a soul what I’d bought.

  She’d eyed the
test and tampons with a knowing smirk that had made me breathe out a sigh of relief.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this to another woman, but I really hope you need them tampons, sugar.”

  “Me too.”

  Turns out the tampons are now totally redundant.

  Crap.

  “Cecelia Bennet! Get your ass out here right this minute, little girl!”

  I jump and bang my head on the toilet stall, wincing when I rub at the offended spot and meet the beginnings of a lump.

  “Sissy!”

  Jesus. Can’t even get away from her for a morning without her finding me.

  “I’m coming, Mama!” I yell back, wrapping the stick in toilet paper and shoving it right to the bottom of my purse. If I throw it in the trash someone is bound to find it and—

  “Goddammit, Cecelia, if you don’t get your ass out here right now I’m coming in there.”

  “God’s sake, Mama, you’re a pain in the ass,” I mutter as I walk out and meet her at the sinks.

  She glares at me, her slightly graying, shoulder length blonde hair swishing with her every movement.

  “How could you do that? I almost had a heart attack when I went into your room and you weren’t there. There’s a madman running free, likely looking for you, and you decide to hitch a ride to town. Without the security guys!”

  To say that I am so not in the mood for this is one big-ass understatement. I’ve just discovered that I’m breeding the seed of the one man I swore never to see again, even if my dumb ass does sorta love him, and now my mama wants to lay into me for ‘upsetting’ her?

  Heck no.

  “Look, Mama,” I say through gritted teeth, losing my temper with her for the first time ever. “I’ve done everything you wanted. I came back home even though I really didn’t want to. I’ve spent almost an entire week in bed, bored out of my skull, and I let you talk me out of even sketching for the meanwhile. I just wanted a little time to myself and maybe one of Lazy’s vanilla milkshakes.”

  “Cecelia—”

  “Give it a rest, Mama. Just let me be a little.”

  Her eyes go misty before a rueful smile splits her painted pink lips.

  “Oh gosh, girlie, I remember that look from the early days with your daddy. You went and fell for that tycoon, didn’t ya?” she asks softly, chortling so hard her breasts jiggle behind her pink tank.

  My mama may be in her fifties, but she still has a slamming hot body and can pull off a lot of different shit that women half her age can’t.

  “No, now shut your yap and buy me a milkshake before I ditch your ass here and hitchhike back to the ranch,” I warn, feeling myself blush despite my annoyance.

  “Girlie, you got that same caught in the headlights look I had when I realized I loved your fool father. I was so spitting mad at him and myself I could hardly breathe,” she says, tugging me out of the bathroom and to a booth in the back.

  We stay silent as the little waitress takes our order.

  “So, you went and fell for a player. I should have known you would. It’s in our DNA. We Bennet women always choose the baddest boys around.”

  I snort and eye her as if she’s lost her fool mind.

  “First of all, I am not in love with Vincent. We’re not even together anymore. We had a brief, mutually satisfying affair, and now it’s over. Secondly, Vincent is like the epitome of GQ suave. The guy irons his jeans, for God’s sake. Bad boy?”

  I start laughing at the thought of prim and proper Vinny doing anything that requires a normal guy attitude. He’s so…British, and upper crust, I doubt he’s done anything so daring as eating one of New York’s famous hotdogs.

  Don’t get me wrong, he’s totally badass in bed, but that’s where his bad boy tendencies stop.

  “You young ones,” Mom says with a shake of her head, thanking the waitress when she passes by to hand us our shakes and an order of chili cheese fries. “You don’t see it. Can you honestly tell me your young man is city sleek and primpy? Did you not see what he did to that Eric guy?”

  Of course I do. I’d been the one to describe Vincent’s attack to my parents, something that had seemed to particularly please my father, and now that I think of it, that was not just anger giving him the edge. Vincent knows how to fight, no doubt, and if I’d had the honor of seeing Eric before he’d escaped I can damn guarantee he’d have looked like minced beef.

  So now I have to re-evaluate my thoughts as well as accept that I am in love with a man I know nothing about.

  Shit.

  “And don’t go telling me you don’t love the boy, Sissy. I can see. Now tell Mama what had you running wild this morning. And don’t you dare try to bullshit me.”

  Jesus, had I really forgotten what a hard-ass my mama can be? For years I’ve put her in this role of the poor little ranch wife who’s ruled—and totally adored—by my father, but that is so far from being the truth.

  My mama can give as good as she gets, and she frequently has Daddy running around like a headless chicken just to keep her happy.

  “Okay, so maybe I do have…sorta feelings for him, but you yourself showed me those tabloid pictures, Mama. The man is a total player.”

  “There’s whores and then there are men who don’t take to love without a struggle. If he fucked that model, cut him loose. But if he didn’t…”

  I watch her shrug prosaically and swallow back a startled giggle.

  “Did y’all just say fuck?”

  “You think I was born this old, little girl? I’ll have you know I had a whole life before I married Beau Bennet and had you and your siblings. Lord, when I remember those days…but don’t try changing the subject, Cecelia. What’s going on?”

  Shoot.

  “I’ve been sick—”

  “Is something not healing right? Come on, we’ll get you straight to Doc Bear’s.”

  “No, Mama,” I say, pulling her back down and staring into my now melted milkshake. Just the thought of all that thick, gooey cream hitting my stomach makes the thing turn with disgust. “I came into town to get one of them home tests.”

  She frowns for a second, and then I see the light dawn in her eyes before a delighted squeal assaults my ears.

  “Oh, Sissy!”

  “Christ, calm down. You’re squealing like a cheerleader,” I mumble, picking at the fries with a grimace.

  I’m so hungry all the time, but I know that if just one of those fries passes my lips I’ll be ear deep in the porcelain, so I push them away and flop back with a huff.

  “You’ll still need to go get a blood test, and then you have to call—”

  “Don’t even say it, Mama.”

  Telling that asshat—cheating ball of handsome slime—that I’m knocked up with his child will only make him that much more determined to have me back under his thumb.

  Oh, really? He hasn’t even called you once since he watched you get in that limo with your parents. Face it, Sis, the guy has obviously moved on.

  “But, honey, he deserves to know.”

  “And I’ll tell him. After the test and the holidays. I just need some more time.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Thanks for getting me out of jail.”

  I laugh at Bee’s eye roll and pull her down onto the sofa with me, enjoying the slightly cushiony feel of her arm when she falls down beside me and stares out at the patio and the pool beyond.

  I’d called her parents and even Jeffrey yesterday after the results of my blood test had come back. Yup, positive. I love my mama, really I do, but if I have to listen to her gush about babies in that covert way—I’d made her swear not to tell Daddy yet—which is as obvious as a wart on a witch’s nose, I was gonna scream blue murder.

  I need Bee and her level head, not to mention how truly terribly I’d missed her these last few weeks. Thanksgiving is in two days, and that’s keeping Mama busy—thank you, Jesus—so I’d swung a mutual agreement between our respective families.

  The whole Pa
rker clan have joined us for the festivities.

  “You’re most welcome. So how are you feeling?”

  “Fine, I guess. Better. I picked up four pounds, thanks to my mother’s feeding habit, and the stylist says she saw some regrowth of hair, so I won’t be bald come Christmas.”

  We both look at each other a beat before we start laughing hysterically. This is why I’ve needed her here; her sense of humor has gotten me past some really gloomy times.

  “How you feeling about…”

  We haven’t spoken about what had happened that night because, honestly, I know exactly how fragile she must be if I’m still struggling to get over the horror.

  She pales and looks away, but not before I see a tear track slowly down her right cheek.

  “Honestly? I feel like this whole thing is my fault.”

  “Oh, Bee, no.”

  “Yeah. I knew that something was really wrong when he started getting so controlling, but I made excuses for him. I told myself he was just stressed with his job, that yeah, I had put on a little extra weight, and that if he wanted to spend more time with me it was a good thing. I let it all go so far.”

  “Bee—”

  “No. That night? He called me, crying about how much he missed me. God, I was so weak! I missed him too and…”

  Please don’t tell me—

  “I let him in,” she says in a rush, her eyes spilling over with fat tears of misery. “I just wanted to talk to him and—”

  “I warned you how dangerous he was, Bee! I had the codes changed and everything because I knew he meant it when he said he’s hurt us!” I yell, slamming my fist into the cushions.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I huff impatiently and turn away, ignoring her pleas for forgiveness and her quaking, muffled sobs. I’d laid awake at night, wondering incessantly how he’d gotten into the apartment in the first place, and now I know.

  Not only had Bee endangered her own life, she’d almost gotten me killed because she’d broken her promise to me. That’s the part that really chaps my ass.