Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
“As we speak, the police are searching your apartment with a valid warrant. If your boyfriend is there, I can guarantee you he’s been arrested.”
Now real fear replaces the smug look of earlier. “I need to go.”
I glance over and nod at the men seated at a nearby table. Then I lean back in my seat and let them do their jobs.
They rise from their chairs and walk over. “Kayla Gibson?” the taller man asks, pulling out a badge from his jacket pocket.
My ex swallows hard. “Yes.”
“I’m Officer Suarez and this is my partner, Officer Harrison. We’ll need you to come downtown for questioning.” The officers gave me the professional courtesy of wrapping up my blackmail issue with my ex-wife before stepping in.
The color drains from her face. “Whatever you want, it has to be a mistake.”
“We can assure you it’s not,” Officer Suarez says. “Drugs were found in your apartment this morning. Now you can come with us quietly or we can make this harder.” He parts his jacket, revealing handcuffs he’s obviously more than happy to use.
With any luck, an arrest is imminent based on the findings in her apartment.
“Good-bye, Kayla. I can guarantee you no judge is going to find you to be a qualified parent now.”
“I hate you,” she spits at me.
“The feeling is mutual. Now go along with the officers like a good girl.” I wave good-bye and lean back in my seat, satisfaction along with a deep sadness filling me.
Because no matter what, at the end of the day, Kayla is my daughter’s mother and that is a sad thing for my little girl. But I intend to make damned sure she has a wonderful life and lacks for nothing. I just can’t make up for her not having a mom.
I drive directly home, anticipating sharing the news with Mia that the custody issue is over. Nobody will share my excitement like she will. But when I let myself into the house, it is too quiet. The door to her room is open and she isn’t in there, so I head for the kitchen and family room.
“Mia?” I call out.
“In here.”
I walk toward the sound of her voice and find her on the couch.
“Hey.” I lean down beside her, clasping her clammy hand in mine. “What’s wrong?”
“I came into the kitchen to make something to eat and I got so nauseous. I had to lie down. I guess I fell asleep.” She tries to push herself to a sitting position but I hold her back.
“Don’t. I’m going to take you to bed. Then, if you’re hungry, I’ll make you something to eat.”
Her eyelids flutter. It is obviously a struggle for her to keep them open. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
This woman, I think with a shake of my head. As if she could ever be a problem.
“Shh.” I brush her hair off her face before picking her up and lifting her into my arms. I head through the kitchen, but instead of going toward her room, I turn to go up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” she asks drowsily.
“Somewhere you can rest… and I can keep an eye on you.”
My room, to be exact, but I don’t want to give her something to argue about by telling her. And since her eyes are already closed, I don’t think she’ll object right now.
* * *
Mia
I wake up slowly. My head hurts because my stomach is empty but I don’t think I am nauseous anymore. But I am warm. Very warm, and I become aware of the hard, hot male body aligned with mine.
Austin.
My heart begins beating too fast in my chest as I realize he lies up against me, his body wrapped around mine, his arm draped around my waist, pulling me close. My body thrums with awareness.
I open my eyes, look around, and realize this isn’t my room. It is his. I swallow hard. I remember feeling sick after a trip to the kitchen and lying down on the sofa. Then he came home, found me, and carried me to his bed.
The sweet man. The sweet, sexy, protective man. He is going to kill me with his kindness and caring while I am supposed to be guarding my heart against his potent appeal.
I wonder if I can roll out from beneath his weight and slip away without waking him. No sooner do I shift than he groans, the sound reverberating through me.
“What time is it?” he asks, not letting go of me.
I blink and glance at the clock on his nightstand. “Four,” I say. I slept the day away. “Umm … why am I in your bed? With your arm around me?”
Instead of releasing me, he hugs me tighter. “You’re in my bed because I wanted to be able to keep an eye on you if you needed anything. And as for the other, I fell asleep and it just happened.”