Page 43 of Stolen Bride
The first thing we plan on is maneuvering around his guards. With the amount of people coming and going less and less, I have a few guys not quite on me. Still, Gracie is almost just as guarded, but she has her parents on her side, and they’re not as strict as Damiano. I head home and pack while she makes a few private shopping trips. My heart aches as I sit on our bed, thinking about never seeing my handsome, insanely frustrating husband again. My stomach turns and I rush off to our bathroom, violently retching out my lunch.
****
It’s been three days since I left Damiano, and I find myself in a nicer motel than expected. Gracie did a great job. The money she gave me should last until I find a job nearby. Luckily, I still have my state ID and birth certificate with my maiden name and can use that to reapply for things once I reach a different state. The weather isn’t as bad in Tennessee this time of year, so maybe I will end up in Nashville and far away from my soon-to-be ex-husband. Grace even managed to get me a disposable phone, so I don’t have any traces of my past life. All I need to do is find a way to lay low for another week; maybe Damiano won’t notice, and then I’ll travel farther than Tallahassee.
I rest my head on the pillow, needing some relief from the past twenty-four hours. Running hadn’t been easy physically or mentally, and now that it’s done, maybe the ache in my chest can settle.
I wake up and take off running to the bathroom, losing everything in my stomach. Dropping back onto my haunches, I sit there to catch my breath. Damn it. I thought this feeling would go away after I left him, but it hasn’t. Could it be that I’m coming down with something? Or could I be…pregnant? There is a huge possibility on that front. Damiano hasn’t been careful at all, despite his protests about our short marriage arrangement.
Cleaning myself up, I get dressed and head out to the local pharmacy. It’s a short walk, but even still, I have my hair tied up in a ponytail and covered up with a baseball cap.
With my shifty behavior in the store, I garner some attention from the clerks. I’m sure they think I’m going to steal something, but I quickly put what I need in the basket, including a few snacks to keep me locked up in the motel for the night.
“Find everything all right, miss?”
“Yes,” I answer, trying to avoid the cameras, just in case Damiano had someone scanning facial recognition databases or some crazy shit like that. Not that I’m sure he’s looking too hard for me. After all, he did want to get rid of me soon.
When she sees what is in my basket, a sense of dawning comes over her face, a motherly look of concern as well. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Thanks. You never know if it’s a stomach bug or something, right?” I say, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.
“Of course.” She looks at my bare finger, and the sympathy is there again. She has no idea that I’ve tucked that five-carat bad boy away, waiting for the right time to pawn it. If I’m having his baby, I may need the money.
I pull out the money from my purse and pay for the purchases, quickly returning to the motel. As anxious as I was to get the test, suddenly I’m afraid to take it. A dread fills me. If I am expecting, doesn’t he have the right to know his child? Would he want to? What would he do to me if he finds out I kept his child from him?
Stress makes my stomach roll several times, so I take the crackers I bought and snack on them. They ease my tummy a little, but only just.
Finally, my bladder makes the courageous decision for me. “Well, it’s now or never.” I head into the bathroom and open the packets, taking the motel’s disposable cups and catching my sample. After two grueling minutes, I look and see that I’m not sick. Damiano stole my heart and left his baby.
Why can’t he just want me? I gave him my heart and loved him foolishly. It was naïve to think he was my hero, my dark prince, because I was so wrong. Tears fall until I pass out in bed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Damiano
We’ve just laid eyes on Rocco after a full twenty-four hours of running down the leads from Miami to West Palm Beach and are about to nab him when Benz calls. “What is it?”
“Someone tried to set Body Count ablaze, but they failed.” Yes, the place is wired tight to stop people getting in unless you’re skilled.
“What?” I roar.
“The police and fire department are here, looking for you.” Fuck. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I want to get home to my wife and end everyone threatening her, including my empty threats.
“I’m on my way.” I end the call.
I look over at Adriano and Michael. “Someone keep tabs on him. Never let him out of your sight. Any movements that lead to Jones, alert me.” I explain about the club and drive off in a flash with Gabe.
Body Count. I should be thinking about the club, but my mind goes straight to my wife and what happened there. The look on her face had been one of pure hurt, and I put it there.
I arrive at Body Count and find that the scene is mostly cleared up, but there is caution tape around the building and front doorframe, and glass windows are boarded up. Quickly, I call the inspector. “Too busy to answer my calls?”
“Yes, it seems your places are very popular.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I snarl, not in the mood for cryptic games from the unhelpful city worker.
“Your other facility on the Miami Beach Marina has just been torched.”
“Fucking son of a bitch.” Heads are going to roll. “What are you doing about this?”