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Taken by the Rebel

Page 32

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Blaze had seen it through, and now, he didn’t have to worry about constantly looking over his shoulder. O’Neal had no one. No family. No wife. No friends.

He lit the gasoline and ran out, going toward his car where Blair and Fay were already seated. Fay was in the front, his sister in the back.

“Where are we going?” Blair asked.

“Is there anything you want to get?” Blaze asked.

“No, I’m good,” Fay said.

“I’ve got my certificate back at my apartment. I passed, yay. I’m officially a beautician.”

“Nothing happened today,” Blaze said. “When I drive away from here, we don’t know who O’Neal is. We never heard of him, and today didn’t happen.”

He glanced at Fay, expecting to see judgment in her gaze, but all she did was put her hand on top of his. “Where are we going?” she asked.

Chapter Ten

Three months later

Fay glanced out of the kitchen window, taking several sips of water. Blaze had a game plan. He always did. There was a small ranch on the outskirts of town back home. He’d been saving up enough to put a down payment on it, and with the money Blair had taken from O’Neal’s safe, they’d been able to put a down payment. They could have paid it off, but Blaze wanted to play it safe.

Back home, Blair had also rented a spot in town, Blair’s Salon, and business was already booming. She was new and fresh, and the women loved her.

Fay worked for her, helping to clean up the mess, order supplies, and help out.

The past couple of weeks had been hard, though. She was sick in the mornings, and by the afternoon, she was fine.

She had a feeling she knew what was causing her sickness. Three months and she hadn’t had her period. This was not like her. She was regular, like clockwork.

Glancing down at the time, she saw it was a little after twelve. Blaze was setting up a gym in town, which he had been wanting to do for a long time. She hadn’t known that was his end game.

None of them spoke about what went down on that last day in the city. No one came looking for them, and a few days after the incident, Blaze had gone back to check. To see what was happening.

It turned out that O’Neal had a lot of enemies. Some rival gang had taken credit for the hit, and Blaze had come back and said they didn’t have to worry.

Fay wasn’t worried about that.

She had never told Blair or Blaze this, but she had seen more than one dead body growing up. Her parents hadn’t been great to her. Shooting up, drinking, and there had been a couple of people who overdosed at the trailer. The cops had always come, but they had never done much of anything about it.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared out the window and had to wonder how Blaze knew this was her dream.

The ranch house needed a lot of work. Most of the land had been sold off to neighboring ranchers, but there was a small plot, enough to raise a family, to have a life, something cozy and warm.

“I thought I would find you here,” Blaze said, startling her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Sorry, I’m going to head over to Blair’s in a minute.”

His sister lived with them. There were enough bedrooms for all of them. Fay had been worried it would be a little … odd.

Blair loved that they were together. For Fay, she was still getting used to Blaze constantly touching her, hugging her, holding her close. Not that she had a problem with it. She loved belonging to him.

“Blair told me you’ve been feeling sick,” Blaze said.

He’d been so busy with his gym that he’d been gone in the mornings when her sickness held her.

“It’s nothing,” she said.

“Fay?”

“I…” Should she lie to him?

She was pregnant. She’d already taken the test that morning. After going out to get lunch for Blair’s customers and themselves, she’d snuck into the pharmacy and had gotten a kit. She’d hidden it from Blaze last night, and this morning, alone in the house, after throwing up her guts, she’d needed to know.

She was pregnant.

Blaze cupped her cheeks, and he leaned in close so that his lips were right against her ear. “I know.”

Fay pulled back. “You know?”

“I know you’re pregnant.” His hand dropped down, going toward her rounded stomach. “I know that you’re carrying my child.”

“How?”

“Babe, it’s not hard to figure out. You’ve been sick in the morning, but fine at night, and last night, you ate ice cream with a taco. That is sick.”

“It tasted so good,” she said.

Cravings had hit her hard as well. Weird ones. The ice cream and taco seemed rather … subtle. She’d enjoyed jelly with pasta. That one was gross, but what she’d needed.



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