LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) (25 page)

Shaw

Oh God. For the first time in my life, or since I’d lost almost two years and some odd months’ worth of memory, I’m hoping so hard for a negative that I can feel my bones almost calcifying the longer I sit statue-like, trying to ignore the raging asshat beside me.

Let me just say, a car ride with someone this pissed is not the most comfortable of events, especially when I’m trying not to look at him. Or hyperventilate. Or pee my pants.

“Another pregnancy scam.”

He keeps muttering those same words over and over again, casting me murderous looks that leave me feeling like my skin’s being stripped raw. The kicker? I don’t understand one fucking word the guy is saying, and yet, every time he says it, he looks at me thunderously, waiting for me to reply.

All I can do is nod. Which I’ve done about a dozen times. Or a hundred. He keeps getting more upset with every nod to the point that I finally roll my eyes and start shaking my head.

Seems to piss him off more, and I cringe, but for some reason, now that I’ve caught a spark of outrage I’m enjoying the view. Every time he grinds his teeth I feel some small measurement of victory.

“Well, folks, it seems that the almost impossible has occurred. You’re pregnant again Miss Mallory. Congratulations!” the doctor crows, smiling at us both, as if he didn’t just drop the Hiroshima fucking bomb all over my already messed up life.

At any other time, like say an hour ago, I would be walking on freaking sunshine! Now? Now I get the distinct feeling that Cameron is not too happy, and that he’s going to make me suffer for this.

“Er, thanks Doc. Uh, where’s the bathroom?”

When I get there, scampering quickly because Mr. Dark-looks is on my tail like freaking lichen, I give in to the need to start shaking up an earthquake.

I need answers. I need out. I need to know what the fuck is going on so I can get out of Dodge.

“Think, Shaw. You’re engaged to a man who is obviously not as in love with you as you wanted to believe.”

I snort and check my appearance in the mirror, taking in the sickly pallor and the hollows under my eyes. I look like a freaking zombie, and I feel about as attractive and aware as one, but something keeps niggling at me. Cameron knew I was pregnant before this, and I know that he’s been nailing me like a madman for weeks. I have the vaginal bruising to prove it.

Did he purposefully get me pregnant?

My noodle brain is leaning way over to the positive side of things, so I have to assume that whatever problem he’s having with me now did not exist before I told him about his brother.

So what I really need to do is find out about that guy before I proceed to smother my man in his sleep and get packing. As the thought forms, I hit on something that I haven’t thought about in weeks.

There is one person in this world I trust more than anybody or anything, and I’d bet money on it that he knows more about what’s been going on than I do.

With that issue resolved and my mind once more settled, I leave the restroom feeling…hopeful.

Cameron is there waiting, and I only wince slightly when he clamps a hand over my upper arm and steers me out of the building and to his Jag. The pressure is lighter than the grip he’d used to drag me inside, so I can only assume he’s holding back now that he knows I’m pregnant.

“Seat belt!” he barks, glaring at me until I buckle up before starting the car and accelerating slowly.

Ice.
I may as well be sitting outside in the midst of a Siberian winter snowstorm for all the heat I feel in the car, and yet, I’ve decided to ignore him while I figure out the best way to call Alec without tipping my hand too early.

Chances are he won’t be able to tell me much, but as I’ve now found after Molly spoke to me, I might remember more if I had a little something for my brain cells to chew on.

“So, I take it you’re not too thrilled at the prospect of another baby.”

Don’t gasp or go all horrified. I’m an amnesiac; I haven’t lost all of my faculties, and right now, I clearly recall having a temper. It’s starting to rear its ugly head since I’m feeling alone and hurt.

Really, who blames the woman for this shit every time?! I clearly remember being on the receiving end of his rants all those nights he’d decided to go jizz inside me, and it’s not like he didn’t know where that would lead.

We already have one freaking baby!

“I was delighted…before I realized that you have once again played me and mine for fools,” he says with a growl, gripping the wheel so tight I hear his knuckles pop. “Why though? I just can’t figure it out. It’s not like you needed to get another baby into the mix to secure your future, it’s already set.”

I snort and keep my lips sealed, ignoring his glacial looks. Duh! Can he be anymore idiotic? I did not set out to get myself impregnated. I already have one baby, who is a handful by the way, and I’m still serving up breakfast, lunch, and dinner from my chest! Like I need to be fat and tired on top of raising the first!

“No matter. I’ve resigned myself to a lifetime spent with your scheming, duplicitous hide so I may as well just give in and have the six I want.”

Six! What the fu—

“You know what? I was sitting here wondering what the hell is wrong with you all of a sudden, maybe thinking that I inadvertently said something to anger you, something I don’t remember by the way, but I think…you may be the problem here, Cameron. Are you like, bipolar or something?”

Shut up,
now
!

He’s hands are full on white by the time we reach the wrought iron gates of home, and I’m so uncomfortable I’m practically hanging onto the door handle and waiting for him to slow down before trying to make my escape.

He hasn’t said anything, and I’m just…should it hurt this much to know that I’ve been living in a freaking lie bubble for the last few months? Somehow I don’t think the person I was when I got shoved down the stairs would be this meek and docile in the face of Cameron’s anger.

Unfortunately, I also suspect that this love I feel is not as old and comfy as I’d fooled myself into believing. This scares me because I’d been so ready to accept what he told me in that hospital, so easy to trust, that I haven’t even considered that there is a reason that Molly had started telling me about the night of the treasure hunt.

I don’t know much right now, save for two very important things. Cameron does not love, trust, or even like me much—despite the act he’s been putting on. And someone shoved me down those stairs.

No, not just someone.
Robert
. I know him. I know that face, and if Cameron doesn’t want to believe that his precious brother would do something that evil, I am alone. In danger. And so is my precious Angel.

“I don’t want you telling Mum or Dad about the baby yet.”

That gives me the freaking chills. “Why?”

“Because they’re still getting over—just keep your fucking trap shut until I make a few arrangements.”

“What arrangements?”

It’s paranoid, but that statement makes me go
Godfather
, and I can’t keep the image of that horse’s head from flashing in my mind’s eye.

“Never mind.”

“Cam, please, I don’t understand what’s going on here,” I whisper, pleading for a little warmth and comfort. “I thought that if I told you the truth, you’d be happy. God, I’ve been agonizing about this since the nightmares started.”

That gets me an even deadlier glare, and I shrink back, retracting the hand I’d been inching toward his arm.

“Tell me. How do you expect me to believe Rob pushed you?”

“Why would I lie, Cameron?”

“Why indeed? One would think that a little con artist like yourself would be more original than to name a dead man as her attacker.”

He slams out of the car before my befuddled brain can catch up, and I’m left slack jawed and wide eyed.

Robert’s dead?

But then that would mean…

Shaw

I don’t get to call Alec that day or the next or the next after. Cameron is on my ass like white on rice for the next while, his attitude loving and warm any time we’re not alone before returning to that arctic chill that threatens to give me frostbite when we go to bed.

Strangely, I wake up with him wrapped around me every morning, as if he can’t help gravitating towards me in his sleep, even when I scoot to the very edge of the bed to try to escape him.

Hussy that I am, I inevitably relax and allow his arms to cuddle me closer, soothed by the heat of him as he covers me, his face shoved into the nape of my neck, his hands cradling my breasts.

In the morning though, well, let’s just say he’s none too pleased about being my blanket and waking up to the slow grind of his morning wood on my ass.

Every time is the same. He vaults out of bed, shaking with rage, yelling at me to keep my hands to myself. As if I was the one grinding all up on that wood!

Then he stalks to the bathroom and takes a long shower. I’d smirk and feel all smug about that if it weren’t for the fact that he takes so long in there that I’d had to puke into the wastepaper basket.

Morning sickness waits for no one, not even an enraged, sexually frustrated man, trying to rub one out instead of doing me with that wood.

This morning had been a shocker because instead of vaulting for the bathroom first chance he’d stood glaring and waited for me to bolt for the toilet for my morning ritual.

And then he’d tossed a damp washrag in my face and tossed a bottle of water at me. Oh, the gallantry! Siiiiiigh.

“You look awful. Shouldn’t you start taking those pills the doctor gave you last time?”

Snarly. Just the way I like my men in the morning. Not.

I shrug, feeling ten shades of screwed up and embarrassed because he’d growled that same thing at me yesterday, and now I’m too angry to admit to him that I have no idea what he’s talking about.

Pills? For the nausea? If I knew that shit existed I would have taken them already. Since he so staunchly believes I’m faking my memory loss, he also thinks I know about half the stuff I’d been through while pregnant with Angel.

Sad truth. I don’t even remember decorating the nursery, or any of the ultrasounds, though I’ve seen every one of them in Margery’s scrapbook.

“Just”—he sighs and pinches at the bridge of his nose—“take the fucking pills, please. You’re pale and losing weight that you can’t afford to lose right now. And you’re still breastfeeding so you need to keep your milk up.”

That snaps me out of whatever void I’ve been floating in—yeah, it’s easier to just drift when I feel this unsettled—and I do what I swore I wouldn’t do. I start crying silently and biting at my lips, as he stares, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t know about the pills, and I…I can’t remember where they are. And I didn’t want to tell you that because you get mad every time I mention not remembering, but I swear I’m not lying!”

Great. Yeah. Go high pitched and teary at the end. As if I don’t already look like a total idiot already.

The worst part about not remembering shit while the guy you dig is hating on you? He doesn’t believe you and….well, he gets meaner every time it happens. Yesterday, I’d been looking through albums and innocently asking Margery about the blonde Adonis in them. It was Robert. Cameron had walked in, his eyes going all molten.

I’d endured whole minutes of his ranting after he’d dragged me upstairs under the guise of needing some alone time with his girl. Talk about setting myself up for that one.

For the briefest moment I’d been so happy and hopeful that the old Cameron was back that I had crashed and burned in a major way when he’d thrust me onto the bed and warned me again and again and then again some more that I wasn’t to talk about his hallowed, very dead sibling.

Now I’m just feeling crazy about the whole thing because it’s true. He’s dead and was dead for months before I’d been pushed, and I…don’t know what to do with that.

“Here. Take one of these. The prescription is almost empty so I’ll have them deliver more this afternoon. Take one now and later at lunchtime, and you should be good to go. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to spend time with my daughter before I leave for the office.”

Just like that he strides out, leaving me with more questions and uncertainty than I woke with.

But I am alone, blissfully alone for the first time in days. I practically dive for the bedside drawer and fire up my phone, hitting send before I can change my mind. I’m fully aware that I could be making a huge mistake by roping Alec into this mess, but I feel like I’m going crazy. I need something to start the ball rolling, or I really will lose my shit.

“Hey, Shawsie. I thought you’d never call.”

My throat tightens at the affectionate tone, and I swallow a miserable sigh.

“Hey Alec. Sorry, I just…I’ve been so busy lately with Angel.”

Lame! What I really should say is that I was so wrapped up in falling for Cameron that I hadn’t given him more than a cursory thought the whole time. That’s about to change because I need him. Desperately.

“Yeah, gosh I can’t believe you’re a mama. Far cry from the girl who swore never to subject her kid to the ‘tomb’s’ genetic makeup.”

I snort and chuckle a little, though the sound is sad.

“Yeah. The worst part is that my memory is still on the fritz and the doctors aren’t of very much help. They just advise not to try too hard and that it’ll come when it comes. Or never. No one will talk to me about anything that happened before and I feel…lost.”

And hated.

Margery and Victor are great, but their idea of helping me involves clothes and antique magazines.

“Cameron told me. That’s why I haven’t pushed you for more contact. I don’t want you stressing more about shit. You doing okay though?”

Ah, ever the protector.

“Yes. No? Not really? I keep having these nightmares about being shoved, and when I spoke to Cameron about it, he went totally mental. I don’t…”

Don’t cry or he’ll be over here so fast your head will spin. And then he’ll kick the shit out of the father of your baby…er…babies.

“Tell me then, baby.”

“Well, I finally got to the part where I looked up just before I fell and I swear, I think I saw Cameron’s brother. How crazy is that? I think I may have met the guy a time or two or something, but they say that he died months ago, and so that makes it impossible for him to have done it. I dunno, I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Er, baby? You did a little more than just meet the guy a time or two,” Alec says slowly, hesitantly.

My skin starts prickling, and I feel my head start to pound when I hear a weary sigh and then what sounds like a cigarette lighter flicking on.

“I did? Are you smoking?”

“Yup, no lectures. It’s my one vice besides drinking and meaningless sex. And yeah, you were…I shouldn’t be telling you this after what the doctors said.”

“Spill it, Mallory! I’m having the worst freaking week, and with the new baby, my hormones are going whacky so you may as well know that I—”

“New baby?” he cuts in, his voice sharp and hard. “You’re pregnant? Again! That…you need to get the hell out of there and get home. Bring your daughter. I’ll—”

“Alec! Calm down. It’s no big deal, babe. Cameron and I are…we’re happy to have another child so soon. Angel will have a playmate close in age and—”

“Shaw, sweetheart…I worried about you when you just left and went with the guy, especially…but I let it go because you sounded so happy about it. God, I even let it go when I wanted to fly over and your fiancé told me not to. I’ve accepted a lot of this shit in hopes that eventually you’d remember everything and come to your senses but this…tell me something? Did Cameron even hint at why you’d be dreaming about his brother, never mind dreaming that the prick shoved you down a flight of stairs?” he asks, his voice going dark and sinister.

“No?”

“Because he doesn’t want you to remember anything! Jesus, I should have seen this freaking coming. What did he tell you in the hospital?”

I think back, wracking my brain for anything that sticks out, but all I remember is an attentive, gentle man who’d stuck to me like freaking glue at every turn.

I’d thought it sweet and his way of showing me love, but now, with the abrupt about face, I’m kinda guessing he’s not so much in love with me as he wants to watch my every move.

“Nothing much. Just, you know, that we’re engaged, and that he was so worried that I wouldn’t wake up. Molly said he was out of his mind when he saw me.”

Still a heart melter that one.

“Shaw, I hate to ask you this, but did he say anything about Angelica or…Robert?”

“No. I didn’t even know about the guy till a few days ago, and believe you me, I am not about to mention his name again. Cameron goes loco.”

Another sigh. This one tired and frustrated, as if he’s struggling with something.

“You know him much better than you think. A hell of a lot better than your man is telling you, baby. Robert Stone is—”

The phone is snatched out of my hand before he can complete the sentence, and I find Cameron looming over me, a hard look on his face before he barks into the phone and then drops it to the floor, crushing it savagely beneath his foot.

“Hey! You just trashed my phone! I was talking there!”

“I know. About a topic I warned you is
not
up for discussion.”

Eyes closing on a weary sigh, I rise to my feet and walk to the interconnecting door, not even bothering to argue at this point. I could. I could yell and demand answers, and maybe even slap him a little, but it’s a waste of time and energy, and I know it.

For some reason, the guy has totally flipped a three sixty, and everything I say and do is rubbing him the wrong way.

Whatever.

Pushing the door open, I walk into the nursery and feel a wide smile spread over my lips. That’s my ray of sunshine right there, staring at me through a set of baby blue peepers that have the ability to turn my heart to mush and my mood to jelly.

She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever done in my shitty life and I know it, even if I don’t remember how she came to be or how she got here. I’m just thankful that she did and that I have her to brighten what is fast becoming torture.

“Hello, baby girl. Did you miss your mama? Come on here sugar and give me some love.”

She reaches for me, her joy and unconditional love a balm I need now, desperately. I kiss her head and breathe in her smell before lowering my shirt and pulling her to my breast, my chest tweaking, as it always does when she looks up at me in thanks and adoration.

At least someone wants and needs me.

“You’re so perfect. Yes, you are. Wanna tell mama why you’ve taken to sleeping through the night so early? I miss you when we don’t wake up at midnight. Or two in the morning. Or four.”

I’m being ridiculous, and I know it, but talking to my kid about her asshole father doesn’t seem right to me so I need something to say.

“She wakes up. I give her milk from the fridge and put her back down.” Cameron growls from the doorway, his eyes glued to my breast and the little girl attached to it.

The thought of him willingly depriving me of Angel just because he’s got a bug up his ass and wants to hurt me pisses me off more than anything else. I can take his insults and nastiness. I can accept that we aren’t in a place I’d so naively assumed we were, but I will not accept him using my daughter against me.

Ever.

“You have no right to do that. It’s my job to feed her, and I want to do it.” I hiss, keeping my voice low so as not to startle her. “Just because
you
don’t want me doesn’t mean
she
doesn’t, and I resent you trying to put a barrier between us.”

That, and this cold war he’s got going is pushing me to a desperate place I can’t stand to think about—in case I lose the tight grip I have on myself. I’ve been teetering on the verge of what feels like a panic attack for days now and have kept it all together purely by convincing myself that
no
,
I’m not losing my mind
.

And I am not that pathetic loser who goes into depression just because some loser has decided to treat me like shit. I have options as Alec had so recently pointed out, and I don’t need him to live a decent life and raise my kid.

We’re not married, something I am now very thankful for, and he can’t stop me from doing what I want. If I leave, he can have visitation or something. I dunno. I’m so confused, but at least I can think about what Alec said.

“You’ve been tired lately with the sickness. I wanted to help.”

Ah, the feeling and emotion, why however will I control myself when he’s being so giving…

“Whatever this is…this game that you’ve been playing with me since the hospital, you can stop it. I know that we aren’t together for any other reason than because of Angel. I’m going to remember everything eventually, and when I do, you can kiss us goodbye.”