LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) Page 29

  I stay silent because I know that’s not all of it and that he’ll get it all out eventually. Cameron, I have learned, is a brooder. He plans and plans and then plans some more, always expecting things to fall right into place.

  This is different though; there are too many wild cards in play, and my Cam is going nuts trying to consider all the variables so he can get the result he wants.

  And then there’s the fear that I was right and we catch…

  For his sake, as well as for his parents’ sake, I really hope I’m wrong. I pray it every night, hoping that that dreadful Letitia is the culprit. Unfortunately, her ugly mug is not the face I remember seeing, and I’d also heard a shuddering Griff recount the tale of his bondage adventures with the woman.

  She’s too skinny to tie up, and I told him that. He’d have to superglue the ropes to keep her from sliding right out of any knots he made. The guy laughed so hard he choked on his own saliva and then wagged a finger at me playfully, telling me that a true man knows how to keep things under control.

  So yeah, we’re both worried for different reasons. Cam because he’s paranoid and too close to the situation to be objective, and me because I am terrified of what he’ll feel after.

  “We’re getting married tomorrow, Ducky,” he finally whispers, his mouth curving gently.

  I smile back and close my eyes, excited for the end result and also because tomorrow I will not only give myself to him, but my heart as well.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Shaw

  “You look positively radiant.”

  I smile and try not to let the tears fall and ruin my makeup as Margery putters around me, her arms full of a wide-eyed Angel and what I suspect is cupcake icing on the lapel of her buttercup yellow half jacket.

  The woman is a fashion model—even at her age—but she totally excels at being the best grandma ever.

  “Thanks, Margery. You look smoking hot yourself,” I say, winking at her blush. “Did Victor help you in or out of that getup?”

  I laugh when she blushes all the way to her golden blonde roots and shoos at a laughing Millie.

  “Oh pooh, Margie dearest, we all know Vic is randier than a billy goat! Why I remember that time we all took the yacht and—”

  “Oh hush, you old fool! These young ones will never let me live that down if you tell them.” She hisses again, smiling down at her Angel.

  “So Shaw, you ready to commit your life to that tall, dark, and completely arrogant arse downstairs?” Molly trills, coming in with my veil and a glass of orange juice.

  “Yup, just hope Alec doesn’t pull a fast one and start throwing punches at the last minute.” I gripe, checking my eyeliner again.

  “Ooooh, that brother of yours…”

  “Oy, you’re my Kent’s girl. Don’t go perving over another man, Molly Larson—or I’ll tell Kent and he’ll have you hiding again.”

  Molly blushes and giggles, looking wickedly guilty before shaking her head.

  “You know Kent is the only man for me, Mum. Can’t help to look though.”

  “Oh my no. That brother of hers really is quite the specimen.”

  They all titter as I roll my eyes and go back to inspecting Angel, my jaw dropping when she smiles, her mouth opening wide enough for me to see her tongue.

  Purple.

  “Margery Ellen Stone. Why is Angel’s tongue purple?” I ask sweetly, almost giggling when she gets a deer-in-the-headlights look and surges to her feet, only to smile when a knock sounds at the door, saving her wily ass.

  “That will be Victor, dear. I’d better go…”

  “Sneak.” I laugh, shaking my head when she turns and sticks out her tongue.

  Purple.

  “We should go, too; it’s almost time. Alec will be up shortly to bring you down, dear. Oh my.” Millie starts tearing up again and Molly’s lip trembles. “You really do look stunning, dear.”

  I thank them and bat at my tears with a huff of laughter as they bustle out, chattering excitedly, leaving me alone to stare at myself in the mirror and collect my thoughts.

  While it’s almost show time and I’m jazzed to be walking down the aisle at last, I am really nervous, too. Those nerves stem from the fear of what could happen out there.

  Today could go well, and I could end up married and tied to the man I love. That would be the best result I could ask for. The result I prayed half of last night for.

  Or it could be just as Griff and the men expect, and I could be faced, we all could be faced, with a truth I don’t want any of my family to have to face. Dammit, why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

  Because I’m no liar and I know that no matter what, this has to come to an end.

  With that thought in mind, I square my shoulders and smile, ready and waiting for Alec to come in and give me to the man I love.

  “So radiant.”

  I hear the hiss and twirl, almost falling on my ass in shock when my eyes meet the barrel of a gun and then go further to see the blonde maniac wielding it.

  “You? But…I saw.”

  My heart starts beating so hard I hear it in my ears and I have the urgent compulsion to bolt and take my chances with the door.

  “Uhuhuh.” She warns, waving the gun at me. “Move away from the door, Shaw. We wouldn’t want you to run and miss out on my surprise.” She sings, her smile revealing snowy white teeth that remind me of the Chicklets that Mr. Wilson wore in Dennis the Menace.

  This woman is obviously “off her nut” as Cameron likes to say, something I hadn’t seen since meeting her that one time. I trust Molly’s judgment and the things she’d told me about Letitia and Molly’s arch nemesis, Fanny.

  Not remembering them though made it hard to read them, especially when Letitia had been on her best behavior. I glance at the door again even as I move to my left, going where she wants me to go, knowing with dread that the farther away she gets me from a possible exit, the worse off I am.

  Stall Shaw! Alec’s coming up anytime now.

  That gives my stuttering heart a leap of comfort, and I slow my breath and manage not to start weeping. My first instinct is to cover my belly and protect my baby, but I know that if I do, if she realizes that I’m pregnant…she looks unhinged enough to lose it then.

  “Why?”

  My question is a soft sigh in the silence, broken when she laughs loudly, her face becoming brittle with mania.

  “Why? Because we had a plan. We had everything worked out perfectly and then you came along and ruined everything!”

  We?

  “A plan?”

  “A plaaaan. I left my husband. I was coming back here to Cameron. He loves me, you know, and he said we would be together if I pulled this off.”

  I gasp, feeling outraged that she would dare even think to lay this at Cameron’s door. The hussy! I don’t for a second believe that he has anything to do with this—and I tell her so, thinking, Fuck it, she’s gonna try and shoot me anyway.

  “Cameron despises you. He would never plot to hurt me this way.”

  “Cameron? What are you talking about, you stupid cow? I’m not talking about him.”

  “But you said…”

  “I said he loves me. We planned this together. I was to get Cameron, that fool, to fall back in love with me. We were to marry. After a suitable time, he would take care of Cam, and I, the poor grieving widow, would retreat to Papa’s country estate in Scotland. We’d meet up there and then leave the country. Oh, we planned to be in Spain for the summer and Italy! Oh, I adore Italy.”

  I can’t follow all that well since she’s obviously a lunatic on a rant, but I get this much…there’s someone else involved. Meaning, I have a very limited time to get the fuck out of here before the other person joins the party.

  She’s so distracted, babbling about yachting in some country I’ve never even heard of, that I manage to make it about five steps away from the door. My hand just peeking out to grasp the latch when she suddenly turns back, her eye
s blazing, the gun waving uncontrollably.

  “You! This is all your fault! Everything was going perfectly, and then you came along. Little Miss America, with your pathetic eyes and that disgusting belly! I knew you had to die. I said we should do something before you got so far along. But he…he wouldn’t do it!”

  Oh God. Her hand keeps tightening on the grip with every word, and I expect an explosion any minute.

  “I told him we could have a baby. I begged! I’m not a good mother; I never really cared for brats, but I was willing to give him that and he…he refused. He said it would be wrong to kill an innocent baby.”

  I swallow, my hand shaking where it lies behind my back.

  “He’s right.”

  What else can I say? Look, Lettie, the fact that you wanted to kill my kid pisses me off enough that if I wasn’t carrying another child right now I’d brave the bullet just to rip your fucking face off?

  Somehow I doubt that would go down well.

  My words are possibly the worst thing to say because her eyes shoot back to mine, this time so enraged I swear I can almost taste it on the air.

  “You. You need to die. If you die, then I can, I can comfort Cameron in his grief and fool him into marrying me. Then, then I can get the money, and he won’t hate me anymore. He’ll love me again. I know he will.”

  God. I’m angry, so, so angry right now, and yet I feel so much sorrow for her that I wish I didn’t want her dead. I have this sneaky suspicion that she was quite sane before this, that her life with her husband Jonathan had been just fine.

  If left alone, I’m sure she would have been content to spend his money and foist her kid off on a nanny while she flits from one event to the next.

  Now she is…crazy.

  “He did the same thing to me, you know. He made me promises, so many, told me everything I wanted to hear till—”

  “Shut up, you stupid bitch!”

  Oookay. Zipping it, I think, frantically scanning the room for a place to seek cover, when her gun starts waving more rapidly.

  “What we have is true love. I just, I need to prove to him that I…I’m not a monster. He said I’m a monster. All I did was give you a tiny little shove. It was so easy to mess with that camera, and then I slipped out and, you know it was pure luck that you were just going down the stairs when I came out of Griffin’s room.”

  God. Her voice is getting all sing-songy, like that Joker dude from Batman. I’m pretty sure that means she’s about to O.D. on Gummy Berry juice and plaster me full of holes.

  I glance at the door again, this time through the mirror behind Letitia, praying that the thing will open. That’s when I realize that if the door opens she’s likely to pop one of my people in the chest before they can get to her.

  I need to move. I need—

  “Stop fucking moving! Stay right where you are.”

  Uh oh, Gummy Berry meltdown.

  She smiles, like a switch flipped or something, and raises the gun—and I know that I am about to die.

  “Stop, Lettie.”

  I raise my eyes as she whirls and stares in horror as the wall beside my closet creaks open and the man of the hour walks in, his golden blonde head and blue eyes so like those in my dream that I’m as shocked as I am relieved to know that I was right.

  “Robert Stone.”

  He inclines his head, a small smile playing at the edge of his mouth before his eyes close and open to land on Letitia.

  “Lettie, darling, what are you doing?”

  She starts shaking, so nervous and eager and fucking happy that I want to slap his face for doing this to her.

  “I…I’m fixing it, darling. I’ll get her out of the way and then marry Cameron and, and we can do everything just as we planned. We can have his money and live, live just as we wanted to. All I have to do is—”

  “You know that will never happen now Lettie,” he says sternly, making her cringe. “He has an heir.”

  “But she’s yours!”

  “No!” I yell, feeling my hackles rise. “Angelica is Cameron’s daughter. She is nothing of his.”

  If I’m dying, I will die yelling those words at them both. I refuse to let this monster have any claim to Cameron’s precious angel, not ever. Memory or not, I could freaking kick myself for ever being attracted to that oily snake.

  “Yes, she is his. I saw that the day he brought you both home. The man is quite smitten, isn’t he? So, you see, Lettie, the game is up. We have nothing here anymore. Let Shaw go and we can leave.”

  “But the money!”

  “Is no longer possible, darling,” he drawls, flicking his eyes to me and then again to the door.

  Is he? Oh Lord, he’s keeping her distracted so I can make a break for it. Not daring to breathe, I kick my shoes off, gather my dress and bolt for the door, coming up short, freezing when a loud boom cracks the air and the door beside my head splinters, tiny wooden shards hitting my left cheek.

  “Turn around now.”

  I obey and almost collapse when she comes directly at me, her face a mask of unfettered fury.

  “This is all your doing! You fat little nobody.”

  I close my eyes when she stops about ten paces away and points the gun. The next shot is as loud as a canon boom, and for a moment, one brief period in time, I feel every cell in my body stop and then start screaming as adrenalin bombards my bloodstream.

  My eyes crack open slowly, and I gasp, almost retching at the sight of Robert, lying over her, pinning her struggling body to the floor. Blood, blood pouring, gushing from a wound, a wide, gaping hole over the top left section of his back.

  I’m gasping, crying, frozen in shock when he struggles up, using what little strength he has left to punch Letitia, knocking her out cold. That done, he falls to the side, his blue eyes meeting mine.

  I scamper over, pressing my hands over his wound, frantic when I feel his blood pump over my fingers.

  “I didn’t push you. I…swear it. I…reaching to grab you.” He gasps, struggling for breath. “Never hurt little Angelica. Never.”

  “I know,” I whisper, hardly hearing the commotion outside before the door bursts open and a frantic Cameron is trying to tug me away.

  “You fucking bastard!”

  “No Cam! Wait. Just wait. Robert, why did you do it?”

  My face is ravaged with tears, my eyes swimming, as he takes my hand and smiles softly, a smile I wish I remember but don’t.

  “You…don’t deserve…never wanted to hurt…so sorry.”

  Strong arms pull me away when his eyes go blank, letting me know that Robert, my enemy, my savior in those last seconds, is dead, truly dead.

  “He saved me.”

  It’s all I get out before Cameron is kissing me and holding me so tightly that I feel every shudder and tremor that wracks his body.

  “I love you, Cameron.”

  “And I you, Shaw Stone. I love you, too.”

  With his arms holding me up, I finally let the last tear fall and allow him to drag me from the room, my hand securely fitted in his larger one. It’s funny. This all started with Robert, my life changed by his one careless act. Now it’s ending with him finally doing the right thing, giving me back to the man I was destined to love.

  Epilogue

  “Ducky?”

  I lift my head from the toilet seat and glare at Cameron, my mouth sour as I take another long look at him before turning back and hurling my guts out into the freaking toilet. After what feels like the loss of a few necessary organs and part of my throat lining, I rise shakily from my knees and lean against the counter.

  He brings me a glass of water and a washcloth, tenderly wiping at my tear-stained cheeks and whatever is left on my mouth.

  “I swear to God; this is the last one, Cameron Stone,” I mutter, swallowing another round of bile and hoping that I don’t start up again.

  He smiles, as he does every time he’s found me this way and realized he’s knocked me up. Again.

 
This is the third and hopefully last since my nursery is full with Angelica, Robbie, and Victoria.

  “This is so not funny! How do I always get knocked up three months to the freaking day after giving birth?”

  Seriously, is his sperm on a freaking schedule!

  My surly moping only makes the ass laugh harder before he pulls me in for a kiss that rocks me to my toes, swiftly making me forget everything but the feel of his strong body and his oh so skillful tongue.

  “Ew, Cam. I haven’t brushed my pukey teeth yet,” I mutter, trying to push away.

  “Don’t care, Ducky. Need to love on you,” he says with a purr, kissing me even harder.

  By the time I’ve regained my hussy senses, I’m on my back with Mr. Super-Sperm looming over me, his blue eyes gleaming wetly as he gazes into my eyes.

  “I love you so much, baby.”

  “Yeah, and everyone freaking knows it since you keep knocking me up.”

  I’m smiling though because despite the terrible time I have of it at first, I still love knowing how happy he gets with every kid. Doesn’t hurt that he goes nuts the bigger I get.

  The guy really has a thing for my swollen pregnant belly.

  “You’re irresistible.”

  “Huh! You’re so lucky I’m easy for flattery, mister.”

  “Yeah, I really am,” he whispers, kissing me again, this time slowly, showing me his appreciation, his utter joy that he and only he can do this to me.

  I never got my memory back, and these days I’m not stressing about it anymore. I got my fairytale story to tell the kids. After Robert’s funeral—don’t get me started on the field day the press had with that story—Cameron had surprised me with a fairytale wedding complete with my Big Ben cake, my carriage, and every other insane thing my mind could dream up.

  Tackiest, coolest wedding ever! He’d stood at the altar, smiling brightly as I waddled toward him that I’d literally cried like sap by the time I said, “I do” and accepted his ring.

  We’d discussed hypnotherapy, something that could maybe get me some of those missing months back, but I’d declined. I have all the memories I need—and I’d said so.