Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (8 page)

He gave her a tired smile, then surprised her by cupping the back of her head and drawing her closer. “That one might work. If you still love me.”

Her breath caught. Longing tugged at her heart and pulled at her soul. Desire, not the hot, needy kind, swept through her and made her ache to freely touch him. She knew she could. He’d never turned her away before, and the intensity in his eyes, the depths of his own longings were clear, along with hope.

With her throat tightening, she blinked back the tears. The day their daughter had been taken, they’d both been plunged into purgatory. To a place where nothing was cut and dried. Not their marriage, their home, or their love for each other.

She did love him, but she didn’t want to set him free. What if he didn’t come back? What if she signed the divorce papers, agreed to sell their house and he cut all ties with her? Remarried, started a family with a woman who could give him all of herself?

He rubbed his thumb along her cheek and caught a tear. “Nothing?”

If only he knew the turmoil raging through her head and heart. She could tell him, but then what? If they tried at their marriage again, and she moved back into their home, he’d realize the extent she’d gone to in order to find their daughter. And that had been what had driven her to leave in the first place. She refused to stop searching for her. Unlike him, she couldn’t let the past lie and move forward. She loved him, but she loved their little girl, too. After years of trying to become pregnant, all of the tests, all of the waiting and longing, they’d finally been blessed with a healthy baby. Now she was gone.

A dull throb began to build along her spine. As she tried to come up with an answer, the throb sharpened when it reached her lower back and shoulders. “I need to go,” she finally said. A warm compress, ibuprofen and a cold beer chaser were what she needed to soothe her back and numb her emotions. “It’s been a long day, I’ve got a lot on my mind and I don’t want to discuss this right now.”

She gasped when he grabbed her hip and tugged her closer. Still holding her head, he angled his mouth until it was inches from hers. “As long as there’s something to discuss, I’ll be here.”

Tempted to lean in and kiss him, she turned her head away. He held her steady and, releasing her hip, ran his fingers through her hair and cupped her head with both hands.

“Just tell me one thing.”

Her chin trembled and she gave up fighting the tears. Dante knew her too well and had seen her cry rivers. She didn’t need to pretend to be strong in front of him. “Please, Dante,” she said, her voice catching. “Let me go home.”

His eyes softened with understanding, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “This
is
your home.”

Anger meshed with grief. She gripped the front of his t-shirt. “How can I live here when every part of this house reminds me of—” She shoved at his hard chest. “Just let me go.”

“You can’t even say her name.”

“Of course I can.”

“You can’t walk past her room without having an anxiety attack.”

“Bullshit.”

“Is it? If the house is the problem, then let’s sell it, find a new one and start over.”

“No,” she said, and shoved harder. He didn’t budge. “You don’t understand. It’s not just the house.”

“So it
is
me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He finally let her go and stepped away. “You didn’t have to.”

“Dante, I—”

“You’re right. It’s late and you should go back to your apartment.”

Her anger overpowered her grief. “I love how this entire conversation keeps shifting back to you,” she said, hugging herself. “I was the one who spent month after month hoping and praying I didn’t get my period and that I was finally pregnant.” She drew in a shaky breath and swiped at her tears. “I was the one who carried her and will never forget the way she moved inside my womb, all of her little kicks and—”

“Stop.” He raised his hand. “I get it. I didn’t hope and pray every month right alongside you. I didn’t go to your OB appointments or feel her kicks beneath my palms.” His eyes narrowed. “I was just the sperm donor.”

“I didn’t mean to sound—”

He clenched his jaw and turned away, moving quickly toward the foyer. When she caught up with him, she said, “I’m sorry. Again, I didn’t—”

“Don’t.” He held the front door open for her. “You go ahead and keep thinking I’m only worried about me. If it helps you sleep better at night, keep telling yourself that I haven’t suffered like you have. And while you’re at it, consider this. I didn’t just lose my daughter, I lost my wife. I lost the two people in the world I love the most.”

The anger and vulnerability in his eyes had fresh tears streaming down her face. The anger she could accept. She’d been living with her own rage for six years and had thrived on it to keep the grief contained. The vulnerability…

Dante rarely showed weakness and had always resonated strength and invincibility. But he was also complex and intuitive. Beneath the badass exterior was a sensitive man who put himself before others. He cared deeply. And he obviously still cared for her. Only her words, as sharp and prickly as barbed wire, had hurt him.

“Please, go,” he said, his voice ragged.

She nodded and wiped at her tears. “Let’s both cool off and talk about this tomorrow. Okay?”

The pained look in his eyes broke her heart. “I’m tired of talking and texting. Just sign the divorce papers and let me go.”

Unable to speak without sobbing, she gave him another nod, then stepped onto the front stoop and rushed toward her car. Her day had started with the death of two people and had ended with the death of her marriage.

At this point, nothing could help her sleep tonight.

Chapter 3

“THIS IS COOL,” the young, tattooed Walmart cashier said when he finished scanning the dissecting kit. “My older brother used to have one like it.” He grinned and looked at her. “Until our mom caught him getting ready to dissect his hamster.”

She finished unloading the rest of the items from her shopping cart onto the belt. “Why would your brother want to do such a terrible thing?”

The cashier shrugged. “To see what was inside the hamster, I guess,” he replied, scanning the box of latex gloves. “What are
you
dissecting?”

If only you knew.

“Not a hamster, that’s for sure.” Why on earth anyone would want to hurt an animal, she couldn’t understand. A shiver chased through her. With what the cashier’s brother had planned to attempt, according to the true crime shows she and Wayne liked to watch, he had the makings of a serial killer. Just last week they’d caught a documentary on Jeffery Dahmer and learned he used to like to dismember animals. Sicko. “My son needs the kit for school. They’re dissecting frogs,” she lied, and pulled her wallet from her purse. “This brother of yours, did he ever find something else to dissect?”

Serial killers scared her. In her opinion, they were pure evil and did the devil’s work. The thought of one lurking around St. Joseph, Missouri, didn’t settle well with her, even if she and Wayne were leaving tonight. There were too many innocent and unsuspecting people around here. Of that, she knew too well.

The cashier grinned. “He’s a surgeon now, so, in a way, yeah, he’s still dissecting.” He finished ringing up her items—newborn diapers, formula and baby wipes. “That’ll be ninety-two dollars and forty-seven cents.”

A surgeon? Impressive. While she was no surgeon and had no medical training whatsoever, she had God on her side. And the dissecting kit would help her with what she needed.

A baby boy.

After paying with cash, she loaded her bags into the shopping cart, then headed for the exit. Instead of allowing herself to become caught up in fantasizing about the new baby God would grace her with tomorrow, she forced herself to focus on what needed to be done today. Wayne wouldn’t be home for several hours, and without Elton running under foot, she’d wind up finished with the rest of their packing well ahead of schedule.

Poor Elton. She sighed as sadness crept in and had her thinking back to when they’d brought him home. He’d been a cute baby—too bad he’d grown up so fast. But, better that he’d been with her and Wayne than his real parents, even if it had only been for a short time. Like with the other boys they’d brought into their home, Elton’s parents had been no good. They’d spent more time working than with their son and constantly left him with a babysitter. She’d done that boy a favor the day they’d taken him. His natural mom was one of those career-driven women who was more concerned about climbing the corporate ladder than raising her child. The father was no better, and would work twelve-hour days. If he’d stayed with his real family, without proper, parental supervision, he would have probably grown into a horrible, unchristian-like person, and would have been either dead, on drugs or in prison by the time he was sixteen.

She finished unloading her shopping cart and closed the trunk of her car. Knowing in her heart she’d—at some level—done right by the boy, she let the memory of him slip into the back of her mind and concentrated on the future.

She looked forward to moving to Chicago. Growing up in Wauchula, Florida, she’d always dreamed of living in a big city like Chicago or New York. While she certainly couldn’t afford shopping at expensive stores or living in a fancy brownstone, with the cost of living, Wayne should make more than he ever would have in St. Joseph, Wauchula, or the three other cities they’d lived in over the past thirteen years. Between the little inheritance she’d received after her mama had died, and the money they’d managed to save renting cheap but cozy homes, they had no debt and close to twenty grand stashed in their house. If everything went to plan, in another couple of years, they could leave Chicago with even more money, and maybe actually lay down some roots and become homeowners.

They hadn’t owned a house of their own since Wauchula. She smiled as she climbed into her Honda Civic. While she hadn’t necessarily considered their mobile home much of a house, they’d had some fun there and had made do with what they’d had. Her smile slipped and the sadness returned. Wayne had done such a good job of making up their baby’s room, but after she’d lost her precious little Elton and she’d fully recovered from the embolism, she’d refused to go back to the mobile home. There’d been too many memories, and besides, with the exception of her aunt and cousin, she and Wayne had no other family in Wauchula.

Now she had none.

A few years after they’d moved away from Wauchula and rented themselves a small house in Little Rock, Hurricane Charley had bulldozed its way through Florida and devastated their home town. Her aunt and cousin had lost everything and also ended up moving. She could’ve kept in touch with them, maybe on Facebook or some such thing, but Wayne hadn’t thought that was a good idea. Her aunt and cousin, along with the few friends she’d left in Florida, had known her situation and that she couldn’t carry a baby. If she so much as posted a picture of one of her Eltons, there’d be questions she couldn’t answer, unless she wanted trouble.

Although she missed having family and friends around her, Wayne and a baby were all she’d ever needed. Looking back, her husband had always been the one constant in her life. She’d known him since kindergarten and had been in love with him since the fourth grade. She knew everything about him—good and bad. Not that he’d ever done anything bad.

Wayne didn’t see it her way, though. Each time she’d been ready to send one of her Eltons into God’s arms, she knew it tore at her husband’s sweet soul. He hadn’t wanted to hurt those boys. After she’d handed him a shovel and garbage bag, and had sent him off with their first Elton, Wayne had come home crying and shaking. He’d said what they were doing was wrong, that their son hadn’t deserved to die. No, the child hadn’t deserved death, but she’d no longer wanted him and it wasn’t as if they could hand him over to an adoption agency. If they’d done that they’d have gone to prison, and she’d no longer have Wayne or any chance for another baby.

Wayne had understood this, yet fought with his own demons, comparing himself to his ruthless daddy. If serial killers were pure evil out doing the devil’s work, Wayne’s daddy, Bingham Cooke, just might’ve been the devil’s spawn. Old Bing had wronged her Wayne so many times, her mama had finally put an end to it, threatening the man with a sawed-off shotgun and taking Wayne into their home when he was just fourteen. People around town had thought it strange that Mama had had no qualms about her and Wayne living like husband and wife, or that Mama had given her consent and allowed them to marry when they were sixteen.

Twenty years later…they were still happily married.

With a baby on the way.

Giddy anticipation had her stomach filling with butterflies. She was gonna give Wayne a son who would top the others. And, if all went well, this time around she might let Wayne keep him.

The butterflies scattered and her stomach cramped. Could she actually deal with a child past the age of two and a half? The older the boy grew, the less he’d need her. Plus kids became mouthy and expensive. She supposed if she filled their boy with God’s teachings, he’d turn out just fine. Plus, Wayne wasn’t like his daddy. He’d never raise a hand to her or their son. Yes, she’d try her hardest to keep this new baby and raise him to be a good man. Besides, she and Wayne were both thirty-six. She couldn’t keep bringing new babies into her house every three years. Goodness, what would people think if she was forty-eight and the mother of a new baby? She giggled. They’d think she and Wayne were grandparents.