Into the Blackness (Blackness Series Book 4) (28 page)

I’m still being the best fake husband I can be. It’s not much but it’s something. I love her and nothing’s changed that. If anything, her putting up with me and the op even though she’s heartbroken and lost makes me love her more. I’ll wait a lifetime if I have to, I’ll get her back. I can’t push this time though. I have to wait it out and serve my sentence like a good prisoner. I can do that for the love of my life. That’s what Kat is. I’m certain of it.

“Ready to go?” I ask the group as we finish four large pizzas.

“Hello, Nick,” Trish Booker says sweetly at the edge of our booth. “Boys.”

“Hi, Trish,” I greet her warmly.

“Boys’ night out?” she asks too eagerly for my liking.

“We didn’t get a chance to celebrate the team’s win last night. Thought pizza was a good choice tonight,” I lie.

“Well done last night, boys. I’m impressed with how well you’ve improved. Cole, starting is quite the accomplishment.”

“Thank you, Missus Booker,” Cole replies politely, even though it’s forced.

“Give Kat my best. Enjoy your evening,” she finishes brightly before sauntering away.

“I can’t stand her,” Dane grumbles under his breath.

“She only came over here to find out why Aunt Kay isn’t here so she can try to get her claws in you,” Cole informs me.

“She can try all she wants. I’m a one-woman man. Speaking of, let’s get home to my wife.”

They all nod their heads enthusiastically and we swiftly leave. I’m not sure why Trish just approached us, but I fear it’s the reason Cole thought. She sat behind us at the game last. Kat put Dane and Sawyer between us and Trish settled on the bleachers behind me. I felt her looming presence often during the game. I just thought she was being nosy. Now I fear she wants on my dick. I refuse to do that. I won’t betray Kat and I won’t whore myself for this op. Before I met Kat, I would’ve done anything for the DCA. After my latest fuck up, I’ve got more boundaries in place.

We pull in the garage and pile into the house, the boys laughing at some video on Facebook.

“Aunt Kay,” Dane calls out lovingly when he catches sight of her in the kitchen. The burnt embers of the boys’ attempt at dinner is cleaned up. Kat’s already in her pajamas, covered in a silk robe.

“Hi boys,” she coos as they envelope her in a group hug.

“Headache gone?” Jake asks pulling her into another hug when the others release her.

“No. I just wanted to clean up before I go to bed,” she lies.

I take her in my arms when Jake steps away to get her pain relievers.

“I hope you feel better soon,” I whisper against her cheek.

“I don’t think I will,” she responds in a weak voice.

I nod feeling defeated. I did this to her. I stole the glow that beams from this woman and I don’t know how to give it back to her. The only thing that brings the smallest glimmer of light to her is the boys. So I leave her with them and go upstairs to get myself ready for bed. Kat curls into a protective ball on her side of the bed every night. Just like she did the first night we moved in. I’m her enemy now. My hands are tied and I’m the person that did the binding. If I prayed this would be the moment where I’d ask for some fucking help because I’m so far into the blackness and I can’t see my beacon of light to lead me out. She’s been doused by my insensitivity. I’ve trapped us when I swore I’d keep us safe. I’ve failed.

Kat

No, no, no! This can’t be fucking happening. I rip open another package, the sixth. I pee on the stick and wait. This is some kind of sick joke from the universe.

Positive
.

Damn it. I pee on the other stick from the package and wait. Terror and insanity blurring my vision as I read the same thing again.

Positive
.

I feel a maniacal cackle rise from my chest that sounds so foreign as it escapes my lips I fear it’s from someone else. I’m in the house alone so I know that’s not the case. It’s just the crazy officially setting in.

The last three weeks have been brutal. Completely and utterly brutal. I’ve barely spoken a word to Nick except when necessary for appearances. I’ve been completely secluded from everyone and everything. I’ve had a lot of “headaches” so I can excuse myself in the evenings and go to bed before the boys start to notice I’m off.

The first time I had to kiss Nick after everything, I almost cracked. It took every ounce of ability I have to keep my mask in place. I’ve gotten better over the weeks, but the agony is still heart-wrenching. I’m treating Nick like any other mark. He gets what he needs from me for the op to be successful and that’s it.

I think the boys suspect something’s off, but none of them have asked yet. Not even Jake. The boys have had their hands full after ending their relationships with Regan and her posse. I’m thankful right now because I have no answers. I have nothing.

“Well, not nothing,” I think, looking at the twelve positive pregnancy tests decorating the cream stone floor. This is beyond bittersweet. Shane and Nick have fucked this moment up for me too. I want to be happy and squealing with joy while I run to call Nick and tell him. Instead, I’m locked in the bathroom crying, terrified.

I can’t call Jess and talk this through with her because I still refuse to put her in our shit. I have no one. I’m alone and pregnant with a baby. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

The only reason I bought a test is because I needed to in order to take my birth control shot. I never expected it to be positive. I was just going through the motions. Now everything has changed. This is no longer an op. This is my life and the life I’m carrying. How the hell am I going to do this?

I let the sobs wrack my body until I need to get myself cleaned up to go get the boys from school. I jump in the shower willing the water to soothe away my aches and pains. It doesn’t. It gets my face to look okay, but large sunglasses are needed to hide the mess. I’m a damn mess.

I gather up the tests and shove them in a shoebox in my dressing room. They’ll be safe there. I take all the trash with me and hide it in the bottom of the large trash bin outside, gagging as I move garbage bags out of my way. Once I’m convinced I’ve hidden all the evidence, I head to the school. Game face firmly in place.

“Where’s Sawyer?” I ask as the boys pile in the SUV, one man down.

“His dad picked him up an hour ago,” Cole answers.

“Why?” I ask harsher than I want, but I don’t have a good feeling about this.

“Don’t know. They called Sawyer to the office and then he was gone,” Dane chimes in.

“Call him,” I order and pull away from the curb, heading toward the Lancasters’ house.

“Tried to. It’s goin’ straight to voicemail,” Jake informs me.

“Call Nick,” I instruct.

Jake complies instantly.

“Hey,” Jake says into the phone.

“Sawyer’s dad picked him up early from school and we can’t get a hold of him. Aunt Kay’s drivin’ to his place now and wanted me to call you.”

“Yeah…okay…sure…later.”

“He’s on his way,” Jake says shoving his phone back in his coat pocket.

I pull into the driveway of a large Georgian home with a perfect façade like all the others in this town. I hate
Stepford
!

“I’ll be back,” I say, swinging my legs out.

“Kat,” Jake warns.

“Stay in the car. I’ll be right back,” I command and he obeys.

I ring the bell and wait with a tap of my foot, my arms across my chest. After longer than I’m comfortable waiting, I ring the bell again…twice. I continue waiting until I’m certain they’re not answering the door. I begin to move around the house to look for a point of entry. Something’s off. I can feel it in my bones.

I can sense Jake’s eyes boring into me as I walk around the house. I wish I wasn’t in heeled boots. It would make it easier to get through the half foot of snow on the ground. I have the urge to kick the Christmas lights off the house as I trudge through, but I don’t. When I get to the back of the house, no curtains are drawn and I get a clear view into the home.

Sawyer is on the floor and a chubby red-faced man, Harold Lancaster, is kicking him. I run to the French doors at the side of the house I just passed and try to yank them open with no success. I have no weapon on me and no right to break in the house. I’m trespassing as it is. I don’t give a shit. Let me get arrested. Jess will get me out of it. She may be pissed at me, but she’ll always take care of me.

I pick up a large paving stone, heave it through the glass door and quickly kick away the jagged edge. I’m in the house…somewhere. I can hear Sawyer’s whimpers and his dad screaming. I guess they didn’t hear me break in. I move stealthily through the large room I’m in, some kind of office or library shrugging my navy heavy down coat. I unzip my boots and pull off my socks. Bare feet are better for a fight.

I pull the door open and move into a long hallway. I head left toward the back of the house. Sawyer’s screams are getting louder as is the shouting. I pick up my pace and look around for a weapon as I move. I spy a large silver candlestick and settle on it. It’s heavy in my hand with a natural indention for my grip on the ornate spindle. I ready myself for a fight as I move into the room where the assault is occurring.

“Get the fuck away from him,” I seethe.

The fat man spins around, shock and rage covering his round face.

“Who the hell are you? Get out of my house!” he bellows.

“Sawyer, can you get up?” I ignore the abuser.

He whimpers in response. I take that as a no. I step to help him and his father cuts off my path.

“I will cave in your fuckin’ skull if you don’t get outta my way. Now!”

“I’m not worried,” he says with a cocky smile and then advances on me.

I tee off, catching him under his double chin causing a good spray of blood. He stumbles back almost falling over Sawyer. The idiot bends down and grabs Sawyer to use as a shield. I crack my neck from side to side.

“Let go of my son,” I command in a demonic voice.

If I had my gun I’d put a bullet right between his eyes. Sawyer’s quivering in fear and shrieking in agony.

“He’s
my
son and you’ve broken into my house and assaulted me,” he rages at me.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to put him down. If you don’t, you will die in this house in about thirty seconds.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, bitch. Get out!” he roars.

“Sawyer, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m comin’ to get you now,” I say softly. His eyes are swelling shut and he shows no evidence he hears me. He’s fading from consciousness as his father holds him by the throat, cutting off his air supply.

I decide to make my move. I rush straight at Harold, shocking him. He sweeps Sawyer’s now limp body in front of me. I advance again, forcing him where I want him. He’s choking the life out of Sawyer. I can’t watch him die right in front of me. I fake left and move right, but the fat man keeps Sawyer in front of me. He’s not breathing.

I quickly switch the candlestick to my left hand before crushing it into his shoulder that’s attached to the arm strangling Sawyer. His grip falters at the connection and Sawyer’s limp body falls in a heap to the ground. I strike.

I lift my leg, bend my knee and kick out viciously, landing my foot in his blubbery gut. It knocks the wind out of him and he trips over the ottoman I was leading him toward. He violently kicks and flails to keep me away as move above him. I land a punishing blow with my weapon against his shin causing him to stop and cradle it. I take the opportunity and repeatedly smash his face with the candlestick until I’m splattered with his blood and he stops moving. I don’t check his pulse. I don’t need to.

I drop to the floor and try to revive Sawyer. He’s not breathing and I can’t find a pulse, though I don’t try very hard. I start compressions while I beg him to wake up and come back to me. I can’t lose him. Please I can’t lose him. Someone help me! I get to thirty compressions and blow twice in his mouth. Nothing.

“Sawyer! Please!” I scream as I pound away on his chest.

“Kat!” Nick hollers.

“Back of the house!” I bellow.

He comes flying in with all the boys in tow.

“Call 911,” I gasp. I’m getting worn out. I can feel Sawyer’s ribs cracking beneath my hands as I cave his chest in. Please wake up.

“Let me take over compressions,” Nick says calmly, kneeling on the other side of Sawyer’s body.

I nod. When it’s time for breaths again, I let Nick take over.

I can hear the boys freaking out and Jake on the phone, but I’m solely focused on Sawyer. There’s no way the universe is this cruel. Give him back to me! I refuse to be pregnant just to lose a child. My child. Sawyer’s as much mine as the child inside me. His black hair is caked with blood, his face swollen to the point of being deformed, his arms and hands bruised and bleeding from trying to defend himself…I’m losing him. I can’t lose him. Not after everything else I’ve lost…please. Please.

“Sawyer, please, baby wake up. I’m so sorry. Please come back to me. Please,” I sob in his ear, tears streaming down my face.

I always believed I was only my job. A chameleon moving through life catching and killing bad guys. After the last three weeks with Nick, I thought I’d never be anything but that. Looking at the lifeless body in front of me, my son, I know I’m more than what I believed. I’m a mother. I can’t lose my child just as he’s shown me my purpose in life. Please, if there’s someone out there listening, please don’t take him from me. I need him. My son. Please.