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Authors: Heather C Leigh

Jagger (Broken Doll Book 2) (15 page)

BOOK: Jagger (Broken Doll Book 2)
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12
Miri


I
can’t do this
, Cat. I can’t.” I paced in front of the wall of windows in the fancy penthouse suite in the ultra-modern high-rise W Austin Residence building. Nerves churned and twisted in my stomach causing a low-grade nausea that never seemed to leave. Which, if I were to think about it, was likely due to another reason. A path I refused to allow my mind to go down.

“You have to stay calm, Miri. It isn’t good for the—”

I shot my best friend a dark look, then flicked my eyes over to one of the many men sent to guard us along with George, who was staying in one of the suite’s many bedrooms.

“Sorry,” Cat said. She knew I didn’t want to talk about… that, in front of anyone else.

“I should have told Jag before he left.” I shivered and crossed my arms over my stomach. “Maybe he wouldn’t have left.”

Cat stood and joined me by the windows. “You weren’t ready, Miri. When he came home from the hospital he was at the house for three weeks and you never found the courage to bring it up. It had to be when you felt it was right.”

I held back a sob and stared out at the rolling hills of Austin. “You’re right. I could have told him. I was too scared. Now, he might not…” I sniffed and blinked back the burning tears. “He might not ever know.”

Cat grabbed my wrist and hauled me into the bedroom, closing the door and locking it.

“Miri, you have got to stop this. It’s not good for the baby and terrible for your own health. You look awful.” Cat pushed me gently onto the bed and sat next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” I hunched over, wishing I could disappear. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She grabbed the phone off the nightstand. “Hi, I’d like three orders of fruit, two bowls of steel-cut oats, ten breakfast tacos, six market omelets, four orders of pancakes and four orders of waffles to the penthouse, please.” There was a pause. “Yes, three carafes of coffee and two of orange juice. Thanks.” Cat hung up and gave me a smug smile.

“That’s a lot of food, Cat.” I wrinkled my nose when my stomach heaved.

She rolled her eyes. “There are five grown men hanging around here, plus us. You think they’re not hungry?”

“Well, I—”

“Besides, this way you get to pick what you think you can keep down and the guys and I will eat whatever you don’t want. But you will eat,” she said before I could protest.

I ran a hand along my flat midsection. “I’m having a hard time believing I’m pregnant, that a baby would even make it after everything I’ve been through. The nurse said it’s part of the routine blood work for all young women. When I was at the hospital having my head checked, the doctor told me, but I just couldn’t accept… I mean, in a way, I was happy, especially because I’m far enough along that I know it’s Jag’s, probably from one of the first times we…” I stopped, deciding I didn’t need to get into details. “But when Jag was shot and everything was a mess, I didn’t want to ruin his recovery by telling him he was about to be saddled with a kid he hadn’t asked for.” My vision blurred.

“Miri, are you stupid? That man loves you so much it’s sickening. He’s not going to dump you because you’re pregnant.” Cat snorted. “Hell, he’ll probably put you on a bed in a room lined with pillows and lock the door so you won’t get hurt.”

I wanted to smile, but couldn’t manage to get past my intense fear. Fear that Jag would hate me. Fear of rejection. Fear he’d never know he was going to be a father because he’d be dead before I could tell him. My hands shook harder.

“I should have told him.” My voice hitched and I began to hyperventilate. Cat rubbed my back and pushed my head between my knees.

“Breathe, Miri. Everything is going to be okay.”

She meant well, but I knew her words were empty. Cat couldn’t make any promises, though it was good to have her with me as I fell apart. If I didn’t have Cat, I’d be completely alone. No way would I turn to George or one of the
Men in Black
for any sort of comfort.

By the time the food arrived, I had stopped freaking out just enough to join everyone at the dining room table and not garner any strange looks. I ate my fruit and oatmeal in silence, letting the others fill the empty space with conversation. The men never spoke business in front of either Cat or me, so the discussion was ridiculously trivial—sports, weather, more sports. I wanted to grab one of them by their broad shoulders and shake him until he told me what was going on. Whether or not Jag was safe, where he was, how he was doing… I couldn’t sit here in this gilded tower and do nothing while the father of my child was off risking his life. At that thought, the nausea returned and I shoved back from the table, making it to the bathroom just in time to lose my entire breakfast as I heaved over the toilet.

Thankfully, Cat left me alone in my misery. The last thing I wanted was someone hovering. I rinsed my mouth and slid to the floor, resting my cheek on the cool tiles. Four days apart and I was already a total emotional train wreck. There was no way I could stay here and keep my sanity. I had to get out and find Jag, do
something
. Tell him about the baby. Maybe if he knew he was going to be a father, he would stop taking this unnecessary risk trying to lure out El Cuchillo. Maybe he would come back.

I wasn’t sure how long I lay on the floor, but by the time I pushed to my feet, my mind was made up.


W
hat are you
—?”

“Shhhhh.” I grabbed Cat by the arm, maneuvered her down the hall into our room, and closed the door. “They’ll hear you.”

“Exactly,” my best friend said, crossing her arms over her chest, her brows pulled together and her mouth turned down. “Were you… eavesdropping on our guards?”

“Yes. Be quiet,” I hissed. “Wait here.” I crept back out into the hall, ignoring Cat’s silent, frantic hand-waving that let me know she was far from happy with my actions.

Padding on bare feet, I stopped at the corner where the hall opened into the large living area and listened to the men’s voices.

“He said there’s no sign of anyone so far.” That was Drake, or
Man in Black
number one, as I dubbed him before I knew his name.

“It’ll be soon,” George’s commanding voice said with confidence. “Feyo heard from one of his contacts that there’s been a lot of chatter about El Cuchillo and where he might be hiding.”

“Hiding doesn’t mean he’s headed toward the house in Laredo,” said the other Man in Black, a guy with the ridiculous name of Scratch.

My heart leapt at the new information. Laredo. I recognized the name of the town, but wasn’t exactly sure where it was. Somewhere south, I knew that much.

“He’s digging for more,” George said calmly. “I have no doubt El Cuchillo will go for Boss. He would never allow this kind of humiliation to go unpunished.”

A chill made me shudder and I instinctively covered my belly. Unpunished. I knew that sick bastard’s idea of punishment. Just the thought made bile rise up my throat.

“Laredo’s a pretty big town, George,” Scratch said.

Someone pushed back from the table and I froze. When I heard the clink of a glass in the kitchen and the pouring of liquid, I relaxed. No one was coming in my direction.

“They’re outside Laredo, not in Laredo, dumbass,” George snapped. “In a rundown piece of shit just east of some branch of Texas A&M.”

Jackpot!

I waited to see if I could get any more information. When the conversation quickly devolved into women and the guys’ latest conquests, I crept back to the bedroom.

“Jesus, Miri! What were you thinking?” Cat asked, obviously worried if the redness around her eyes was any indication.

“Calm down,” I said, scowling. “Those guys are here to protect us. What’s the worst that would happen if they caught me? Huh? Jag would kill them if they touched me.”

Cat huffed and flopped on her bed. “You’re right. I just don’t know what you’re trying to do. It’s making me nervous.”

I bit my lip. Cat had good instincts. She knew I was up to something. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t tell her. She’d try to stop me, and she couldn’t come with me. I hated lying to my friend, but it was for her own good.

“I was just hoping to hear an update about Jag, you know? I figured if he’s hurt they might not tell me.”

Cat sighed. “You’re probably right.” She pulled the covers over herself and huddled down. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’ll be a few more minutes.” I turned off the light and went into the bathroom to figure out how I was going to get out of here without getting caught. It took me a few minutes to flick through the pictures on the phone Jag got for me a while back, but I finally found the perfect one. I had snapped a casual shot of Jag in a T-shirt and jeans, looking sexy as hell right after we got back from a ride. His dark hair was mussed and his cheeks flushed pink beneath his tan skin. He was stunning.

Once I sorted everything out, I relaxed enough to fall asleep. Content in the knowledge that by tomorrow night, Jag and I would be together, my dreams were filled with fantasies of the man I loved holding our baby, a big smile on his handsome face.

Jag

I pushed away from the table and stretched my back. Every muscle down my spine was in knots after spending most of the day hunched over my—thanks to Sammy—encrypted laptop. It took forever to move the money in all my various accounts to overseas banks, each one opened using my new pseudonym.

Without the mindless task to keep my mind busy, anxiety lingered in the periphery of my consciousness, a constant nagging presence I couldn’t seem to shake. If I could just hear my doll’s voice I was sure I could contain the ominous foreboding, but talking to Miri was something I couldn’t risk. I was afraid that hearing her voice would have me to abandoning my mission and returning to her side, leaving El Cuchillo alive and us looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives.

Miri’s safety was the one thing I wasn’t willing to risk. Not for anything.

“George said there’s been more gossip on the streets about your whereabouts,” Frank said, sliding his phone into his pocket as he came in the back door of the tiny house.

“Good,” I replied. “I can’t stand it here. It feels like the walls are closing in.”

A hint of a smile curled the corner of Frank’s mouth. “Not used to having your freedom restricted, Boss?”

I shot Frank an irritated glare. He knew damn well I got cabin fever if kept inside for long periods of time, hence the motorcycles. I was a man who required open air, fast speeds, and lots of adrenaline. I was not cut out for surveillance. Plus, the house we rented was a shithole, all cluttered and musty smelling. It made my skin itch.

“Something like that,” I growled, pacing the tiny kitchen, crossing it in three strides before having to turn around. “That’s it,” I said, throwing up my hands. “This is no good. I gotta get out of here. Frank.”

“Yeah, Boss?”

“We’re going for a ride.”

Frank arched a single brow. “A ride?” His tone was wary.

“Yes, a ride.” I snagged the keys off the table by the door and tossed them at my driver, throwing him the
don’t fuck with me
look I had perfected years ago. “I don’t give a shit where we go, but I need to get out. We’ll stay in populated areas and keep our eyes open.” I flexed my wrists, comforted by the sheaths that held my blades as well as the cold steel of my Glock holstered inside my waistband.

“Whatever you say, Boss.” Frank palmed the keys and reluctantly followed me to the car. A minute later, we were headed toward the sorry excuse for what this tiny piece of hell on Earth considered a “town.”

T
he mini-mart
was small and pathetic, but busy. Its close proximity to the eight thousand plus student campus of Texas A&M International meant a constant flow of young people giggling and grabbing loads of junk food and alcohol, the staples of a college student.

I wandered the aisles, keeping a close eye on the door while Frank waited outside, doing the same. Going by the bits of gossip we spread on the streets in Austin, our plan was working. A network of spies heard rumors of our location as well as ones of El Cuchillo possibly still being somewhere in south Texas.

The man was so fucking predictable. I had to stop from laughing out loud.

“Excuse me.” I tensed and was about to flick out a blade when I caught the big doe eyes of a pretty little co-ed. She blinked and her lips spread into a smile, revealing perfect, too-white teeth. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologized, biting on her lower lip while looking up at me from under her thick lashes.

“No problem.” So much for watching my back. If a twenty-year-old girl could sneak up on me, I would be dead before I even saw Cuchillo coming.

“Live around here?” she asked.

Huh? I stopped glancing around the store and focused on the girl. Christ. She was dressed in a cleavage-revealing shirt that must have been three sizes too small and a pair of shorts so tiny they were probably illegal in several states.

“No,” I answered as I took a step back, my gaze constantly flicking back to the door. “Just driving through.” I turned my eyes on the co-ed, using my cold and uninviting stare. Shit. The last thing I needed was some college girl remembering where I was and what I looked like.

Her pretty mouth pulled into a pout. “Oh. Okay.”

“I have to go,” I said brusquely. With that, I spun on my heel and strode toward the front counter. It took much too long for the young guy in front of me to pay for his shit and move his ass before I put a bullet in it. I was losing my patience. Fast.

Finally, he left, and the nearest customer was several yards away. I tossed a pack of gum on the counter and met the nervous cashier’s spooked eyes.

“Anyone been by?” I asked.

He shook his head violently. “N-no s-sir. No one.” I suppressed the urge to grin. The fear rolling off that kid was so thick, I could just about taste it.

When we first arrived in town, we not-so-nicely approached the clerks at several gas stations and convenience stores to “ask” for their cooperation. A few hundreds to grease the wheels along with a veiled threat or two and we had a bevy of spies working for us. They were instructed to send anyone looking for us to the shitty little house we were renting, then immediately call one of our phones to let us know we had company on the way.

BOOK: Jagger (Broken Doll Book 2)
11.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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