Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Tatum

Three months later

I walk across the dark campus, holding my nightly ginger ale in my hand…but this time I’m surprised to find I don’t need it. Glory hallelujah, the morning sickness has passed. Honestly, if I wasn’t so exhausted from attending a full day of art school classes, I might even dance a jig, right here in the darkness.

After stopping long enough to stow my ginger ale away in my backpack, I continue across the empty pathway, traveling beneath streetlights, darkness, then back into the light. A pattern I’ve grown familiar with since I finagled my way into art school in Minnesota. Dark, light. Night, day. Work, sleep, repeat. But at least I’m safe. At least I found a way to follow my dream, despite having my life knocked over like a house of cards that night three months ago.

Up ahead, on one of the benches, there is a couple making out. The girl is all but straddling the boy and I’m pretty sure they’re up to no good inside his overcoat. Not wanting to disturb them, I consider my alternate routes. There is a narrow alleyway between two campus buildings that leads to the street, but it’s pitch black, so I usually only take the shortcut during the day. Still, when the girl whines and fully seats herself on the boy’s lap, I veer toward the alley, trying not to think of the one and only time I truly lost myself like that.

On reflex, I curve a hand over my belly, which is only beginning to swell with signs of life.

Hoss never came for me. Never called his phone.

I did exactly as he told me. I drove the rig several miles down the interstate and left it at a truck stop near a train station. Using the money he gave me, I booked a train ticket to Wisconsin, found a motel room and waited, leaving only for food and to buy clothes, toiletries. I waited for weeks, sketching comics on the surfaces of motel notepads. Somewhere around the beginning of the third week is when I started to throw up. And I realized my period was late.

What would Comeback Girl do?

I asked myself that so many times.

But until I saw the two red lines staring up at me on the pregnancy test, I never really, truly answered the question. If Comeback Girl was pregnant and on the run from possible human traffickers—would she sit around and wait for a man to show up and make everything okay? No. She would pull up her big girl panties and start over. She’d make her own comeback.

And the terrible truth is that…

Is that…

Hoss could be dead. Those men I watched approach him in the rearview mirror might have killed him for helping me escape.

I have to stop walking because the pang in my chest is so severe. I prop a hand on the wall of the building and breathe in and out. This happens every time I think of Hoss, but the pain is slowly starting to get easier. It has to. Because I have a mission now. He or she is growing in my stomach and I’m going to do what’s necessary to take care of my child. Our child. And that includes making money, putting myself through art school and becoming a steady provider. I will give this baby the stable life it deserves. I’ll be their superhero. And my own.

I’m halfway down the alley when footsteps approach me from behind.

My blood instantly turns to ice, my sneakers halting mid-stride.

I exhale, watching my breath curl in the air.

Slowly, I turn, praying it’s just the make-out couple hunting for more privacy.

But I don’t see anything.

There is a dumpster pushed up against the wall, some trash dancing around on the asphalt. My fingers curl around the straps of my backpack and I start to walk faster, mentally cursing myself for not spending some extra money on pepper spray. Comeback Girl would never be caught out at night without a weapon.

With one more glance over my shoulder, I start to jog—

And I run smack into a man.

I stumble backward and fall. My backpack breaks my fall, but alarm is racing down my spine, a shriek building in my throat. This man doesn’t belong here. On a college campus. Bald and hulking, he looks like he should be checking identifications at a biker bar or something. “Come with me.”

“No way,” I spit out, crab-walking backwards until I have enough distance between us to lunge to my feet, spin and run in the opposite direction.

Another man steps out from behind the dumpster, blocking my exit from the alley. “Hello, Tatum.” His smile sickens me. “You didn’t think you could run forever, did you?”

Oh God.

Oh God, it’s them. The traffickers.

My hand wants to cover my stomach protectively, but some instinct warns me calling attention to my pregnancy is a bad idea. “Why me? Why go to all of this trouble to track me down? I don’t understand.”

“At first, you were just convenient. A girl with a deadbeat family who wouldn’t bother looking for you. Working alone at night on a truck route. One of our scouts happened to stop in for coffee one night and knew you’d be perfect. No muss, no fuss,” says the bald man, licking his lips. “And let’s not forget about those big bouncy titties. They definitely helped your cause.”

“Or hurt it,” quips the second man. “Depending on how you look at the situation.”

They’re so casually confident, I can’t help but be terrified. I’m strong and smart, but these men have the air of professional criminals. They probably have guns.

“Yeah, that’s how it started,” says the second man. “But then…the boss became convinced you know too much. We couldn’t just leave you in the wind.”

What am I supposed to do here? I don’t know. But I’m not going quietly.

I throw my head back, open my mouth and scream as loudly as possible.

So loud that my own ear drums start to throb.

Not three seconds passes before a hand clamps over my mouth and I’m dragged back against the bald man’s chest. The other one pulls his gun and advances on me, murder replacing the jocular quality of his expression. “Scream like that again and I’ll—”

A hand snakes out of the darkness and lowers the gun, twists the man’s wrist, making him cry out. Then an elbow flies up, sending blood and teeth scattering onto the ground.

What…the heck?

I barely have time to process Hoss stepping out of the darkness. Or how different he looks. Deranged, really. Homicidal. Scarier than these two men on their best day. And righteously angry. So full of rage that even though I know he’s here to help me, I’m scared of him. There’s a feral quality in his eyes that wasn’t present before.

He brings the edge of his hand down in a concise chop of the man’s shoulder and he cries out, the gun dropping to the ground…only to be caught by Hoss. Two clean shots are fired into the man’s forehead, a silencer making the shots sound like quiet zings. The gun is leveled at the bald man before the other one even hits the ground. As the lifeless corpse slumps sideways onto the asphalt, a scream lodges in my throat, horror burning a path up my esophagus. “Hoss…” I whisper.

If he hears me, he gives no indication of it. His face is a mask of malice.

No humanity to be found anywhere. Where has he been for the last three months?

I don’t know. But I don’t think it was somewhere good. That is fast becoming obvious.

“I’m giving you five seconds to let her go,” Hoss grinds out. “Or you’re going to end up like your friend.”

“You’re the one,” the bald man breathes. “You’re the one who has been killing us off.”

A sinister smile transforms Hoss’s face. “They should have shackled me a little tighter. Or bumped me off, instead of keeping me prisoner. There is nothing, there is fucking nothing, that could have kept me from her. And your five seconds are up.”

Hoss cocks the gun. He can’t fire, though. It’s too risky. I’m being used as a shield.

That hesitation costs us, because my captor has time to reach for something.

Now there is a gun pressed to my temple, as well.

Every ounce of color drains from Hoss’s face.

“It’s going to be all right, baby,” he says, voice strained.

“She’s coming with me.” The bald man begins to back up, taking me with him. “The boss is adamant. We leave her alone, it means you win. And she’s a loose end. He can’t allow that.”

“When was the last time you spoke to the boss?” Hoss asks.

My captor hesitates. “Last night.” A tremor goes through him. “Why?”

A muscle pops in Hoss’s cheek. “That tracks. Since I killed him this morning. You’re the very last of the vermin.” A glint flashes in Hoss’s eye. “Let. Her. Go.”

“Fuck you. You’re bluffing,” sputters the bald man.

“Am I?”

The man holding the gun to my head is distracted. Caught off guard. This could be my best opportunity for escape. Without hesitating another second, I drop my weight. Completely allow my knees to collapse. It’s a move I learned from Comeback Girl—and it works. The bald man is so startled by my sudden plunge that he can’t hold on. Hoss is already surging forward to get between me and the man. “Don’t kill him,” I blurt, reaching for Hoss’s leg. “Just let him go. Please. No more—”

A shot is fired into the center of the bald man’s forehead.

He drops lifeless to the ground.

And then there is only Hoss, seething in the evening fog, his arm muscles bunched and rippling in the sleeves of his T-shirt, his broad back tensed. Eyes still carrying that wealth of homicidal rage that scares me. When I met him, he was a truck driver. Now he’s a murderer.

You’re the one who has been killing us all off.

“Tatum,” he whispers, kneeling in front of me. Dropping the gun and taking my face in his hands. “Ah Jesus, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

My heart dances in my chest.

He’s alive. So solid and gorgeous and reassuring.

But there is blood all over his face and that terrifies me. How casual he can be about the fact that he killed two men seconds earlier. Still, I allow my heart to operate my actions because I have no choice. I’m throwing myself into his arms before I can guess my own intentions. His thick arms crush me to his chest and he makes a strangled sound, running his hands everywhere. Up and down my back, over my hair and sides and hips.

“Baby. Oh God, baby,” he says, helping me to my feet. “I’ve been sick without you. Every day has felt like a goddamn year.” His mouth finds mine, his lips dragging mine wide with a gruff intake of sound, his tongue sweeping in to taste me. Sinking in to claim me more fully, his large body swaying into mine. As if the taste of me has sapped him of tension. “Everything is okay now. I’m going to take you from here. We’re going to leave tonight and I’m going to bring you somewhere safe.”

Everything inside of me wants to nod, to let him take my hand and guide me wherever we can be together. But…no. I can’t. I can’t do that. My new life is here. I’ve struggled every second of the last three months to build this new foundation and I’m not giving it up. There is no way I’m just going to walk away. And furthermore…

I have my baby to think about.

My child is going to need stability.

Normalcy.

And this man…Hoss. When I pull back and look into his eyes, I can see that he’s changed. He just murdered two men without batting an eyelash. He’s cold and ruthless. I know he would never hurt me or our child, but…he could bring trouble to my door. He could kill again. Even if this trafficking ring has been eliminated, I could see him bumping off a man for flirting with me. Whatever he’s been through, he’s not in his right mind now. My instinct is telling me that. There are too many red flags when all I want is a peaceful life for my baby.

“I can’t go with you.” I sink back onto my heels. “This is where I live now. My life is here.” I’m not sure why I decide not to tell him I’m pregnant. Maybe because I don’t think he’ll allow me to remain behind if he knows I’m carrying his child. I don’t know, but I tuck my secret down deep and guard it like only a mother would. “I’ve worked really hard to carve out this little routine. This life. And I’m staying here.”

“I see how hard you’ve worked to make a life in this place without me and I’m so goddamn proud of what you’ve done all by yourself, baby. Those comic book heroes don’t have anything on you. But we can’t stay here, Tatum,” he says, beginning to look concerned. “The ring has been eliminated, but I just killed two men. We have to move. Tonight.”

“I can’t,” I whisper. “You did these terrible things in order to protect me. As much as I’m grateful for them…they scare me.”

“No.” He searches me eyes, a realization seeming to dawn on him. “I scare you.”

My throat starts to ache. “Yes.”

All at once, he seems to realize there is blood on his face—and in kissing me, the red substance has transferred to mine. Looking horrified, he strips off his shirt and uses it to clean the smears of blood off my face. “Let me take you home, Tatum. We’ll talk about this. I’m not leaving without you.” He drops the shirt and takes my shoulders, shaking me gently. “I’ve barely been able to fucking breathe for three months.”

I’m not going with him.

But we can’t stay here.

We need to leave this crime scene now, before we’re discovered. I’m surprised I’m able to think this clearly when he’s pinning me with those intense, imploring eyes.

“Come on,” I whisper. “Come to my place. Get cleaned up. I’m not far from here.”

He keeps hold of me, like I might run away or disappear. “Tatum…” All at once, he lunges, flattening me against the wall of the alley. “I need to fuck,” he rasps into my hair. “You going to let me fuck you in your bed? Tell me yes. I’m half insane—I know that. I know, baby. Being away from you did this to me. Tell me I get to have your pussy tonight or I’m going full-blown mad. I need that hot little pussy. Need to wreck it.”

“I d-don’t know,” I stammer, lust sneaking in like a summer heat wave and wafting its way through my middle. Lower. Tickling my loins into a twist. “Won’t that only make leaving harder?”

His frustrated curse peppers the air. “Every time you suggest we’re going to be apart, I go a little more insane, Tatum,” he says in a warning tone, his body pressing me tight, tight, tight to the wall. “Please stop.”

I swallow hard, my fear sensors ringing over the unnatural light in his eyes. “Let’s go home. For now, let’s just focus on getting cleaned up. Okay?”

He’s hard.

Between us, there is a thick ridge trapped between our stomachs and I can see how badly he wants to use it. Right here in the alley. His fingertips are tracing the waistband of my jeans, ready to yank them down. “Not in front of…th-the bodies…” I whisper.

“But later?” Hoss says against my mouth. Urgently.

A hot full-body shiver passes through me. “I don’t know.”

He presses his forehead to mine and lets out a rocky exhale. “Tatum…don’t punish me. I did what I had to do.”

With my heart in my throat, I take his hand and guide him from the alley. “So did I.”