“When’s the movie?”
“Let me see.” He coughed. “Looks like it’s a late one. Starts at 10pm tonight.”
“Okay.” I rolled the bullet in my hand. “Give me the address.”
“You’re going over there?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s up with this guy or not?”
“Eventually. Now, it’s more important to watch his steps.”
“Well, I don’t know how long I can do this. I looked into his background, found a tie to some agency called MAFTA. I couldn’t even find out what the acronym was. The site is locked and private. There was a ding, when I attempted to hack. Possibly, their alarm. I pulled out fast.”
My body tensed. “You think they realized you were hacking them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then, leave it alone. I don’t want you involved.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. What?”
“You love me.”
“Kevin, text me the address and stay off the MAFTA site. In fact, give up any search on Wyatt’s military background. Just monitor his credit card purchases.”
“Got it. I’ll send you the address. But. . .do you need me to check out the place with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
We hung up. Kevin delivered the address. I set my phone down and went off to take a shower. The whole time, I battled with what to do next.
Wyatt was getting close to us, but he still had no idea where Ebony was. It didn’t put me at ease. The only thing that would was Wyatt six feet deep within the ground.
Wyatt was with another woman, but that didn’t mean anything either. I’d been around Ebony enough to know that no other woman could take her place. And those kids were amazing. Wyatt would always want to be in their lives, no matter if he caused them more harm than good.
He may be busy messing around with this Selena now, but Ebony and the kids are in the back of his mind. He’ll never leave them alone.
I didn’t know what I would do, but one thing was for sure. I would have to go down to this address, find out what was going on. Next, I would figure out Ebony’s and my next move in getting rid of this basterd.
Chapter 14
Life inspires Art
Ebony
“There’s something about you, Ebony. Maybe, we’re similar in some ways. Same sort of sadness. Same sort of yearning to live and survive. Whatever it is, you’ve drawn me in.”
I couldn’t get that conversation out of my head. Yoshiro had ignited something within me with those words. If I was truthful with myself, he’d been triggering things within me since I’d first met him.
“I just want you to know that. . .I’ll be waiting here for you. No matter how long it takes. . .days, weeks, years.”
All day, I kept pushing thoughts of him away.
For a few hours, I worked on a new story. It was close to home. A story about the kids and me. A novel completely different from all the rest. It was about the last week. It started on the day that the kids and I ran from Wyatt. It was all about how I tried to decorate the apartment, when he showed up. I wrote every word—the way he slapped me, his threatening with the gun, the way he hurt my child. I poured it all onto the page—my stabbing and shooting, the running and driving away. Yoshiro was even it, and Mabel too. The snowy night. The wreck. The safe haven within his home.
I’m going to call it Redemption. The heroine’s going to get it at the end. All characters will.
I wrote until my fingers went sore, and my heart broke and the tears left my eyes. I didn’t even know if it would sell. No sex had occurred yet. Just light touches between the hero and heroine. Silent attraction brewing, but nothing more.
I had a small fanbase—readers of women from all ages and races. They followed me. They reviewed. They bought my books on the day they came out. They supported even though they didn’t even know my real name or had any idea how much their money helped.
Somehow we connected over my past stories.
Would we still connect now? Would these words matter? Would it touch someone’s soul?
Part of me, needed to hurry and put out a book to make some money. The other part yearned for a story to change a reader’s life. One or two who were going through what I dealt with. Perhaps, another that was running. Maybe she hadn’t fled from the abusive husband or boyfriend yet. Possibly, she was on the edge of the thought and this story would push her over—tell her she could do it. Convince her to run away.
Protect her kids.
Love herself.
Leave him alone.
I could not make one dime from this story, but if I knew I changed one person’s life, it would be worth it all.
I stopped after I wrote what happened this morning—Yoshiro coming to me and confessing that he was interesting in more between us.