Authors: Kathy Clark
Baby Daddy (29 page)
I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I turned my face away so I couldn’t be influenced by my feelings for him. Could I believe him? Could I trust him? “I’m just afraid…,” I whispered. “It will break my heart to leave you now. But it would kill me if you le
ave me later.”
He
lifted my chin and forced me to look into his eyes, so dark and vibrant and sexy. “Repeat after me…
You are not Brandon
…” He gave me a little shake. “Come on…”
“You are not Brandon…,” I said, feeling a little silly, but playing along.
“
You are Christopher
…,” he prompted.
“You are Christopher…,” I echoed.
“
And Christopher loves me and wants to stay with me forever
.”
“
Yes, I love you and want to stay with you…forever,” I whispered.
“That’s not
what I…,” he started to protest, then realized what I had said and smiled. “You’re not very good at taking orders, are you?”
I covered his lips with mine, both to silence him and because I could
no longer resist. He responded immediately and pulled me into his arms and returned my kiss with that bone-melting intensity that I had grown so familiar with. Finally, we pulled apart. “I love you, Killeen.”
“I love you,
too,” I told him, our faces so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. “I’m willing to give it a chance if you are. But forever is a really long time. You have to promise me that if it gets too weird for you that you’ll tell me. Don’t just leave me…”
Now it was his turn to silence me with a kiss. “
Trust me. I won’t leave you, Killeen. You’re safe now. You’re home.”
“
Can we tell the others?” I asked, anxious to share this moment with my new family.
“I don’t think any of them will be very surprised. We’ll tell them as soon as they get back…well, maybe not right away.” He kissed me deeply, passionately, hungrily.
“I’ve missed you.” He took my hand and we ran to the house, up the stairs and to my bedroom.
“What are they going to think when they see the Mini in the driveway?” I asked.
“They’re smart. They’ll figure it out.” Laughing and out of breath, he picked me up in his arms, carried me to the bed and showed me how a Texas gentleman makes love.
Reno leaned
a leather-covered hip on Pam’s desk. He had one leg hooked on the edge as he talked to her.
“You kids were really lucky,” she told him. “I’m so sorry that Roger isn’t here. He would have had so much fun running this business with you guys.”
“I feel a lot closer to him now,” Reno told her. “It’s like he’s still here.”
“I’m glad you’re all going to stay.”
“We may kill each other in the process, but we’re learning how to be a family.”
“So where are Christopher and Killeen?” Pam asked.
“Probably fucking their brains out.” Reno suddenly remembered he was talking to Christopher’s mother and hurried to soften his comment. “I mean, they…”
Pam laughed. “I know what you mean. And I’m glad. Everyone could see that they were perfect for each other…except them.”
The front door opened and a striking young woman with coal black hair cut into a shaggy pixie walked in. She was slender, but the low-cut crop top showed off her full breasts to their best advantage. After the first automatic male response, he forced his gaze upward to her huge emerald green eyes.
She met his gaze steadily with just the slightest hint of contempt in her expression. In her hand was a Scandals’ business card. She held it out and Reno couldn’t help but notice the tattoo on the inside of her wrist of a pink heart, a yellow moon, a green clover and an orange star.
What kind of woman had a Lucky Charms tattoo?
He slid off the desk, startling her and she dropped the card. She hurried to pick it up, and as she bent over, he noticed the elaborate curlicues of another tattoo on her lower back.
She straightened and held the card toward him again.
“I need you to help me find my sister,” she said in a surprisingly husky voice.
Reno smiled. He never could resist a girl with a tramp stamp.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Kathy Clark’s 23 women’s fiction (romance) novels have sold over 3 million copies in more than 10 languages and have been on the
New York Times’
bestsellers’ list and won her numerous awards.
In September 2012 she broke away from the romance genre and launched a new suspense series,
Denver After Dark
that is centered on three brothers, one a cop, one a firefighter and one a paramedic. The first book,
After Midnight
has been named as the Best Indie Suspense of 2013 and won third place in the prestigious Readers’ Favorite Suspense Awards 2013.
Cries in the Night
is Book #2 in the Series and
Graveyard Shift
, Book #3 will be released in Fall, 2014.
Also in 2012 Kathy teamed up with her husband Bob Wernly to write a Young Adult Time Travel Mystery/Romance series called CUL8R (See You Later) under the pen name of Bob Kat. Book #1 OMG (Oh My God), when they go back to 1966 to save a girl’s life, was released in October, 2012 and was named as the Best Indie Young Adult Suspense of 2013 and was a Beverly Hills Book Awards finalist. Book #2 BRB (Be Right Back), when they travel back to 1980, recently won First Place in the Readers’ Favorite Young Adult Awards 2013. Book #3 BION (Believe It Or Not), when they go back to 1927 and join a circus to save a boy, was just released in July, 2013. All three books in this series have received rave reviews and 4 and 5 star ratings. Book #4 RIP (Rest in Peace), a ghost story set at the famous Stanley Hotel will be released in January, 2014. Also, under the Bob Kat pen name, Kathy and Bob wrote a fictionalized version of his fraternity days at Kent State University in 1970 that mixes the drama of
their senior year with the first military draft lottery supplying the Vietnam war and the Kent State shootings. This novel was named as a finalist in the Best Indie Mainstream Book of 2013 Awards.
Kathy is currently a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime and Romance Writers of America, and was on the board of directors of national RWA and Colorado Romance Writers for several years. Her books and screenplays have won numerous awards, including top honors from Romantic Times, Colorado Romance Writer of the Year, two RITAs and several film festival screenwriting competitions. When not writing, she and Bob love to travel, hang out on beaches, spend time with their five sons, go to movies or just play with their dogs.
COMING SOON FROM KATHY CLARK
SCANDALS: TRAMP STAMP
Book #2 scheduled Spring, 2014
GRAVEYARD SHIFT
Book #3 scheduled Fall, 2014
If you enjoyed
Baby Daddy
, don’t miss Kathy Clark’s (also writing as Bob Kat) latest novels. Please enjoy the following excerpts.
CRIES IN THE NIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
The back door slammed with such force that the small house shuddered. In the spare bedroom the woman froze in front of the ironing board, the iron paused in mid-air. Steam poured out of the holes with a hiss, but she didn’t notice. Instead, her gaze raced across the room and met the wide eyes of her son who had been playing with a boxful of Matchbox cars.
He dropped the tiny red Ferrari he had been holding and scuttled backward, disappearing under the bed. No words had been spoken, but he knew the drill. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He had learned early that out of sight also meant out of the line of fire.
The woman wasn’t so lucky.
Heavy, quick footsteps signaled the man’s approach down the hallway. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she realized she hadn’t taken a breath since he had entered the house. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm her nerves and steel herself for the battle ahead. Even before she saw his face, she knew he was angry . . . at her, at his son, at his boss, at his life. It didn’t really matter. He always came home to share his dissatisfaction with her.
“Where the hell is he?” The man wasn’t large, but when he was in one of his moods, he seemed to expand in size until his presence filled the doorway.
“Who?” she managed to ask, struggling to keep her expression under control. For some reason, it made him angrier if she showed fear even though her legs were visibly trembling.
He threw his car keys at her. She tried to dodge, but the unexpected movement and her own swollen bulk slowed her. The keys smashed into her left cheek, then fell to the floor with a clatter.
“You know who. That piece of shit kid. He left his goddamn sled in the driveway and I ran over it. Twenty bucks. Trashed. I work hard and get paid shit. And he just throws his toys around like they were nothing.”
“He’s usually really careful . . .”
He cut her off. “Didn’t he go to school today?”
“They had a teacher’s workday.”
“Then he has no excuse for not bringing in the garbage cans.”
“It was snowing too hard.”
“Not too hard for him to play.” He kicked the basket of laundry against the wall. “You fuckin’ baby him too much.”
“He’s only six.” She knew that arguing only made him angrier, but her motherly instinct was to defend her young.
The man’s dark gaze raked the room before focusing on the abandoned Matchbox cars. His nostrils flared and he moved toward the bed, knowing it was the most likely hiding place.
“No!” the woman cried. “Leave him alone.” She reached out to grab him, but he swung his arm to fend her off as if he was swatting away an annoying insect. She reacted by striking back. Unfortunately, the iron was still clenched in her hand. The hot surface landed flat against his forearm and the back of his hand. Steam oozed out of the holes as the skin sizzled.
With a guttural roar, he jerked back as quickly as possible and looked down at the arced-shaped blisters that had already bubbled up. Like an enraged bull in the ring distracted by the matador’s cape, he turned his attention back to her.
“What the fuck?” He knocked the iron out of her hand, grabbed the front of her sweater in his meaty fist and pulled her forward, over the ironing board which clattered to the floor. Her feet scrambled to keep upright as he dragged her over the metal legs.
“I . . . I’m . . . sorry, Carlos. I didn’t mean to . . .”
He silenced her with a punch in the jaw so hard that her teeth rattled. Momentarily dazed, she didn’t struggle as he slammed her back against the door frame. Her head cracked against the wood and she could feel the sharp edges biting into her shoulders. She didn’t fight back as he hit her again and again. She knew she deserved this. If she hadn’t hit him with the iron, he wouldn’t have come at her like this. The skin over her eye slit under his knuckles, and she could feel the warm flow of blood pour down her face. As bad as it hurt, she knew it was nothing like the pain he was feeling from the burn. So she let him take it out on her. She owed him that.
It wasn’t until his blows moved lower that her defense mechanism got its second wind. His fist buried into her breast. Swollen from the imminent birth of her baby, the pain shot through her like a lightning bolt. He drew back and would have landed a blow in her expanded abdomen, but she collapsed, trying in the only way she knew how to defend her unborn baby. He released his hold on her sweater, but instead of stepping away, he kicked her.
She curled her body in a protective shell, putting all the flesh and bone she could between his steel-toed boot and her stomach. He kicked her again and again, cursing her with words that burned her soul as much as her ears. Finally, she blacked out.
A child’s scream woke her. She struggled to open her eyes, but one was swollen shut.
“Mama, mama!” the little boy cried.
Her hands slid in the puddles of blood on the floor as she struggled to push into a sitting position. Her blood. She could see it staining the white yarn of her sweater. In the back of her mind came the random thought that that was her favorite sweater, and now it was probably ruined. She had so few clothes that still fit.
Her son’s small hands wrapped around her wrist and she stifled a scream as he pulled. Pains shot up and down her arm telling her it was probably either broken or badly bruised. Her brain struggled through the fog as she tried to remember where she was and why she was bleeding and aching all over.
Carlos! She straightened and tried to look around. Was he hurting Danny? Her son seemed to sense her fears and with a maturity well beyond his years, he comforted her.
“He’s gone. But he hurt you,” Danny told her.
“I’m okay,” she lied, trying, as always, to protect him from the truth. But this was worse than the last time which had been worse than the time before that which had been worse than the time before. She could remember them all. In a twisted measure of days, months and years, each marked a new ending and a new beginning of sorts. She had never doubted that she had done something wrong to deserve his anger, and she had never doubted she would survive. This time, she wasn’t so sure.
A searing pain, much deeper than all the others pierced through her, starting deep in her stomach and radiating out. She heard another scream and was surprised that it had come from her mouth.
“Mama . . .?” Danny’s voice was terrified.
The room began to swirl around her, and her vision blurred. Another pain doubled her over and she slid back to the floor.
Julie’s cell phone began ringing as she juggled a bag of groceries in one arm and inserted the key into her back door lock.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on . . .,” she chanted as she hurried inside, dropped the bag on the table and pulled her phone out of her purse.
“This is Julie,” she spoke into the small receiver.
“We’ve got a domestic and fire at 238 W. Maple Ave
.,” the voice recited crisply.
“I heard it on my scanner.” As she spoke, Julie held the phone against her ear with her shoulder and jotted down the address on a piece of unopened mail. “I’m on my way.”
“I’ll notify the officers on-scene. What’s your ETA?”
“I’m pretty close. I’ll be there in ten.”
The line clicked off and Julie let the phone slide off her shoulder and into her hand. She grabbed the perishable items out of the bag and tossed them into the refrigerator and left the rest of the items to be put away later. She picked up her keys, checked to make sure her thin billfold was still in her pocket and left without bothering to take the address with her. She knew it by heart. She had been there before.
Less than ten minutes later, she found a parking space. It had been snowing off and on all day, and it had picked up again just before she arrived. Julie looped her scarf around her neck, buttoned her coat up, pulled on her gloves and got out of her car. A white ladder truck and an engine with the familiar DFD logo painted on it were parked directly in front of the house, their hoses snaked across the snow. The generators rumbled, spotlights focused their harsh beams on the action, radios crackled with sporadic chatter and firefighters shouted back and forth to each other as they focused a steady stream of water on the blaze that had gobbled up the left side of the house.
Julie quickened her pace as much as she dared on the icy sidewalk made worse by the steady flow of water that was draining from the house. An ambulance was at the end of the driveway. The back doors were open and the stretcher was out.
“Hey Julie. Sorry to get you out on a night like this,” one of the cops said as he approached her. He flipped his little spiral notebook closed and tucked it into the breast pocket of his jacket.
“Is she alive?” Julie held her breath, afraid of the answer.
“Barely. He beat the shit out of her . . . again.”
“No surprise there. Why can’t you guys put him away for good?”
The cop shrugged. “She always bails him out and won’t testify against him.”
“I thought she had a restraining order against him.”
“She does. But an RO is only paper. It doesn’t stop fists.”
Two paramedics pushed the stretcher down the driveway from the house. A thin blanket covered the woman’s prone body. Her young son walked beside it, his hand on his mom’s arm, a gesture that was probably reassuring for both of them. It wasn’t until she got closer that Julie noticed the rounded mound showing the woman was pregnant.
“Oh my God,” Julie cried and hurried over to the stretcher.
The woman looked up at her . . . or tried to. Her swollen and battered eyes clearly hampered her vision, but she was able to recognize Julie. An expression flashed across her face, one that was part embarrassment and part happiness to see someone she knew. “Julie . . . I know what you’re thinking . . . don’t be mad at me,” she said in a voice that shook with pain.
“Gloria, you don’t have to apologize to me . . . or to him,” Julie rushed to calm her. She gently took the woman’s hand and walked next to the stretcher as the two paramedics struggled pushing it through several inches of unshoveled snow and over the shattered remains of a sled.
“He didn’t mean to hurt me,” the woman told her.
Like hell he didn’t
, Julie thought, but aloud she said, “How do you feel?”
Gloria lifted her other hand that already had an IV attached and rubbed her belly. “Not so good. I’m worried about my baby.”
Julie looked up at one of the paramedics and he shrugged. “They’re going to do everything they can to help you both,” she told the woman.
“I burned him with the iron. That’s why he got so mad,” Gloria continued, anxious that Julie know why the event had happened.
“You need to focus on yourself and your baby,” Julie spoke soothingly. “I’ll stay with Danny until someone comes. Have you called your mother?”
Gloria turned her head as if afraid of being overheard. “No, would you do that for me? Her number is in my phone . . . you know, the one you gave me. It’s hidden in the laundry room. Danny will show you.” She tried to give her son a smile, but she could manage only a stiff grimace.
The little boy looked at Julie and nodded shyly.
“We’ve got to go,” the female paramedic said as the stretcher reached the ambulance. She and her partner prepared the stretcher for loading and Julie reached out for Danny’s hand.
“Only
my
mother,” Gloria pleaded, twisting around and leaning toward Julie. “Don’t let him go with anyone else. Promise me.”
“Don’t worry about him. I promise I won’t leave him until your mother comes for him,” Julie assured her, and Gloria relaxed back against the cushion. The two women weren’t long-time friends or even acquaintances. Their relationship had started almost two years ago when Julie had responded to a domestic call. That one hadn’t resulted in hospitalization. But it had been the first in several similar events that had created a trust great enough that Gloria knew she could leave Danny in Julie’s care.
Danny trembled but didn’t pull his hand away as he watched his mother being loaded into the ambulance. The red and blue lights bounced off the surrounding trees and houses, magnified by the stark whiteness of the snow and turning the still-falling snowflakes into confetti. Julie looked down at the little boy whose gaze followed the twinkling lights as they disappeared down the street. Looking down she realized he wasn’t wearing a coat. She unbuttoned her own, took it off and knelt down in front of Danny. Even though it was much too large and drug on the ground, he burrowed gratefully into the warmth of the wool. Shivers of cold and lingering fear shook his tiny body. “They’re going to take good care of your mama. But right now we need to call your grandma. Can you tell me your mom’s secret hiding place?”