Page 32 of Saving Grace

In the same instance I reached into my bag and got a grip on the gun I’d recently purchased for protection. The feel of cold steel in my hand caused my heart to beat faster. The thought of actually shooting someone terrified me, but I’d do what I have to do if it came down to it.

My car suddenly seemed so far, and I had to keep telling myself, don’t run, just walk, don’t look back. But the pull of the eyes watching me was too strong. Whomever was in the car wanted my attention and like an idiot I gave it to them. I looked back just in time to see the window roll down.

A man's face appeared. I had never seen him before in my life. But his eyes. I knew those eyes though and I knew without knowing that I was looking at the infamous head of the Esposito family. He had the same molten silver eyes that both Atticus and his daddy possessed, but there was an evil glint behind his.

Sure, Atticus’ daddy had been an abusive asshole, but I’d never seen death in his eyes.

My step faltered, then stilled. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him no matter how hard I tried

Raising his hand, he motioned for me to walk towards his car.

I thought about making a run for it but knew it would be useless. There was a big scary man standing outside of the driver’s door, with his terrifying gaze directed at me. I was positive that he could run me down if the situation called for it, and that would probably make them both angry and I didn’t need that, so with my heart crashing in my chest I about faced and covered the distance. One leg in front of the other. My sandals making too much noise.

Atticus' grandfather watched my every movement, his eyes tracking me. Daring me to run.

Beads of sweat trailed down my back. I was scared shitless and wholly surprised that my legs didn’t give out from under me.

I didn’t know if the things they said about Atticus’ grandfather were true, but I knew there was a possibility that they were and people like him — they always had more money and power than morals and compassion. Killing a pregnant woman probably wouldn’t disrupt his sleep. Was he there to kill me?

“Get in the car Ms. Devereux.” He directed as soon as I was in speaking distance.

My heart jumped to my throat. I darted my eyes around, wondering again if I should at least try to make a commotion, maybe someone would help me. Before I could decide, the man the size a of a fucking tree stepped in front of me. Blocking out the sun. Blocking any hope of an escape, the look he gave me was so threatening he didn’t need to use words.

I nodded. He opened the door and I slid in. I damn near pissed myself when the door slammed behind me, I was trapped. I prayed to my ancestors, asking them to make sure that this day wouldn’t be my last one on earth and I wondered what I’d done in a previous life to have such fucked up shit continuously happen to me in this one.

The man who hadn’t yet formally introduced himself reached out and snatched my purse from my hands placing it on the other side of him.

He faced me.

There was a petty glint in his dark eyes. “So you won’t get any ideas about pulling that pea shooter out on me.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. I wondered how he knew about my gun, but not for too long. When his gaze locked with mine —my mouth went dry. Invisible ants began crawling under my skin. For a long moment he just stared at me, as if he were trying to see through me, then suddenly his eyes trailed from my face, down to my slightly rounded stomach, only to pause at my bare thighs.

I shifted uncomfortably.

He grinned wickedly, like a shark that smelled fresh blood in the water.

“You’re a beautiful woman.” He leered. “I can see why my grandson spent so much money and time trying to find you.” His pink tongue flicked out to wet his thin lips. “I wouldn't have gone through the effort. You remind me of the whores in Sicily, dark and full bodied. Cheap though. He could have brought another you.”

Is he for real?

I bit my inner cheek to hold back the vulgarity that wanted to fly from my mouth instead I asked.

“How do you know who I am?”I asked instead

“You can’t be that dense Grace, I know everybody who my grandson interacts with, for my safety and his.”

“Ok, fine Why are you here?”I pursed my lips.

“Ahh, straight to the point, I can respect that.” He responded before glancing down at my stomach again.

Instinctually my hands went there to cover my baby.

I’d found out I was pregnant when I went to the hospital to have my stitches removed. That beating Marcus had given me had resulted in six broken ribs, one that had pierced my right lung. I spent a month in the hospital. When the police asked me who’d beaten me, I’d told them I didn’t know, but cameras from several businesses surrounding mine had caught Marcus chasing me down the street. I told the police, prosecutor, and Marcus’ lawyer I wouldn’t testify. I didn’t need the trouble or the scrutiny into my identity, but the state somehow got Marcus to plead guilty to aggravated assault and he was sentenced to three years in prison, I heard over the news. I left Tampa as soon as the hospital released me. I drove two hours north to Orlando, hoping I could hide out among the tourists until I could disappear again, and I had been there ever since.

I watched his brow rise then fall before he spoke. “You know very well why I’m here and you know what I’m capable of. I could have just killed you and been done with it, but I’m not a monster, after all you are carrying my great grandchild.”

How magnanimous of you, is what I wanted to reply with, but not having a death wish, I kept my snarky comments to myself.