Page 135 of At Her Pleasure
At his surprised look, she shrugged. “Cissy taught me. We delivered two together, but this was the first one I delivered on my own.”
She could still remember the weight of the baby in her hands, the tiny mouth and hands.
It did matter. It was important for him to understand. This wasn’t a passing fancy, hey, let me go help Mick on some crime gig. Even if the opportunity presented itself only minutes ago, the more she thought about it, the more certain she was she had to help. Had to do something.
“Yeah, I could claim that my raising mindfucked me. That I’m innately distrustful of the law and had all I could do to survive myself. But this time I’d had a plan to get the baby away from her, but I let myself be convinced she was going to keep him. That he was going to be ours. Or rather, mine, the way I’d been Cissy’s.”
She swallowed, looked away. Damn it, hold it together.
“I came by a few days later, bringing some stuff for the baby. He was gone, and the bitch just shrugged it off. Said her contact, the trafficker, had just ‘stopped by,’ and offered her more than she could turn down.”
“What did you do?”
“I beat the shit out of her,” Cyn said flatly. “Forced her to tell me where the baby had gone. But except for the satisfaction of making her bleed, it didn’t matter. The moment I’d left, saying I’d be back in a few days, she’d put it in play. The baby was on a plane going overseas that same night, well out of my reach and resources, and she had a nice wad of cash.”
Cyn shifted her attention to the front window. The motorhome faced a bank of pine trees. Her heart tightened as she saw a squirrel race up the trunk of one. Like the squirrel she’d seen out Ros’s window.
“I told her that if I ever heard she was pregnant again, I’d turn her in. When she told me she’d say I helped her sell the babies, I told her I didn’t care. She didn’t believe me, but I didn’t get to prove it to her. When I found out she was pregnant again, it was the day she died in the hospital from the abruption.”
Mick held out a hand. “Come sit with me. I mean it. Don’t make me come over there and get you.”
She gave him a dubious look, but rose. He guided her onto his knee, looping an arm around her hips, lacing his other hand with hers. She leaned into him, feeling like she could do that. They sat still for a few minutes, then she spoke quietly.
“I’ll have your back, Mick. You know I can do it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be showing me all this.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I like it. I have one condition.” He threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged the curls. “When this is done, I get to strip off that belt you’re wearing and beat your ass with it. Not my usual preference, but at the moment, it’s a pretty strong fantasy. Maybe top of my list.”
Despite the seriousness of things, she felt amusement, and a little tingle at his determined tone. She gave him her best bitch look.
“If you think you can do it without incurring permanent injury, give it a shot.” She held his other hand against her chest. “But what will work better is me doing it to you. Then I’ll wrap that belt around your throat while you kiss me. You can prove to me you value my mouth more than air. I’ll straddle you, move that belt to your shoulders, which I will make sure are throbbing with pain, and ride you the way I want.”
Heat flickered through his expression, and their hands tightened, matching determination and desire. “I’m not sheltered, Mick. I’m definitely not soft. The only thing in life that scares me is finding out my soul is as stained as my mother’s. Give me a chance to prove to myself it isn’t, in a way that matters. And let me stand with you, at least this once. Whatever happens, happens. But I don’t like to lose. If I’m breathing, I won’t fail you.”
He squeezed her waist, then spoke gruffly. “Study the folder. I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk. To get ready. And get in character.”
He shifted her to the cushion beside him and rose to restore the panel. “I’ll also pick up a few things to change your look. Later today we’ll go get the untraceable car we’ll be using.”
He moved to the door. At the bottom of the steps, he leaned back in. “When I return, Cyn, I’ll be that guy. You might not like what you see.”
“I hope not. Just as I hope you won’t like who I am.” She held up the folder. “But we’re pretending.”
“No. We’re not,” he said. “That’s the only way it works.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lookout cameras had marked the silver Mercedes when it was several miles away from the compound. It only slowed when it approached the gate to the warehouse and surrounding buildings, enclosed by chain link fencing and barbed wire. The sun-faded sign out front indicated the business was a scrap metal company. A handful of cars were parked inside the fence, along with a scattering of heavy equipment and a container truck.
As the car pulled up to the security guard’s hut, the woman driving wore large dark glasses. Her moist lipstick reminded the guard of an apple, the darker kind. Her hair was pulled back in a straight cosmopolitan style, held that way with lots of product. The black streaked with red gave her a vampiric look. The hands on the wheel were slim, nails painted black. Her elegant brown slacks, short-sleeved jacket and white blouse were business attire, though she showed a tempting hint of bra lace at the vee neckline.
Mickey Cosgrove, whom the guard knew and was expecting with the female buyer, was in the passenger seat. He wore his shoulder harness openly with his preferred Glock. The woman was likely also armed, but that was status quo in their world. Mickey had his hand propped on her headrest in a familiar way.
Lucky Mickey, if he was getting to tap that ass. “How’s it going, Mickey?” the guard asked.
“Too fucking hot, Bert. As always.” Mick scratched his groomed beard and plucked at the open collar of his dress shirt. He wore that skeleton necklace he always wore, that the guard thought was pretty cool. The woman wore an elegant gold chain and matching earrings. “Hate this fucking state,” Mickey continued. “Going to move to Alaska one day, get some sled dogs and an Eskimo woman, to fuck and cook for me.”