She turns on her back and looks at me, her hand goes over the top of mine on her stomach. “Why does it already sound like you’re saying goodbye to me, Max?”
“Let’s see what the test says. No sense in borrowing trouble until we know.”
“I’m scared, Max.”
“I know, Kitten. I am too.”
“I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t want to be pregnant, but the thought of our baby, growing inside of me…I want your baby, Max.”
I want your baby, Max. The words lay like led inside my heart.
“Close your eyes and rest. We can’t make any decisions until we know for certain,” I tell her.
My head is a mess. Marcum laid out my choices during our last talk. I didn’t want to face them. Now, I may have no choice. None at all.
Pregnant.
How can one word fill you with despair, joy and fear all at once? I’m pregnant with Max’s baby. I’m on the run from the law and knocked up! Shit. The room is silent. Max and I are both just staring at the damn, plus sign, on the pregnancy test.
“Fucking hell,” Max whispers and I kind of wish he had kept silent.
The staggering weight of what we just found out hits me and my stomach rolls. I try to hold it down, but the simple truth is, Max is right. There’s a child now. I have more than myself to consider. I’m going to lose him. The small voice in the back of my head repeats, and it’s just too much.
“I’m going to be sick,” I gasp, putting my hand over my mouth and running to the restroom. I barely make to the toilet in time. Max is right behind me. I feel him lift my hair out of the way, and as I’m finished retching, he hands me a towel. Perfect. Just how every woman wants to be remembered by the man they love—kneeling over the toilet, puking their guts out.
“You okay, kitten?” Max asks, his voice soft, and I lean back into him, letting his body warm me. I feel so cold.
“Give me a minute.” His fingers continue sifting through my hair, and I want to memorize this moment. Memorize it and never let it go, because I know my time with Max will be ending. “I’m going to rinse my mouth,” I tell him, standing and getting away from him. I’m upset, and I want to blame him. It’s not fair and if anything, more my fault, but there it is regardless.
“Tess…”
“I just need a minute alone, Max. Okay?” I tell him, not turning around. I turn the water on in the sink and brush my teeth. I make a point of not concentrating on him, or anything. I’m a robot on autopilot until I hear the door close. Then I put the brush down, rinse my mouth and slowly sink to the floor as my grief overwhelms me. In my mind, it was always a possibility that I would end up alone. A huge probability, if I’m honest. Yet, faced with the harsh reality of it, I can’t catch my breath. It’s a hurt that goes bone deep. I’m not crying. I don’t think I can cry. No, I’m hurting. I feel as if my heart is being shredded into pieces, while I sit here on the cold floor.
“Sweetheart,” Max says, and I hadn’t realized he’d come back in the room. He gathers me in his arms and carries me out of the room. He puts us on the bed, holding me tight and snuggling into me. I remain stiff, but I don’t fight him. I don’t have it in me to extend that much energy. “Tess…”
“Don’t say it, Max. Please? Not right now. I just can’t handle it.”
“Tess, we need to…”
“I don’t want to!” I yell trying to pull away from him.
“Tess, damn it….”
“I don’t want to give you up, Max! I don’t! You think I’m strong enough to watch you walk away and never see you again? I’m not! Do you think I’m strong enough to raise a child who will never know how amazing its dad is? I’m not!”
“Tess, honey…”
“Oh God, Max. I’m not. I don’t want to do any of this without you. I don’t want to be without you. Please. Please just give me a little time without having to think about it. Max, please!” The pleading cues my tears and I… crumble. A deluge of pain and fear swamps me and steals my breath. Max holds me and lets me cry, but that’s almost as painful. Who will hold me when he’s gone? Who will help me survive?
I cry until I can’t cry anymore. Until, I’m so far broken that the tears stop. My eyes are raw, my sides hurt, from the gut-wrenching, unanswered pleas, and my head hurts. Only when I reach that point does Max somehow gather me closer and tries to absorb my pain. That’s impossible.
“You’re going to make yourself sick, Kitten.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, and that’s how it feels. Nothing matters now.
“It does. You have our baby to think of. This may not be the way we saw things going, Tess, I get that. It is how things are though, and I need you to be strong. I need you to take care of our child.”
“He or she won’t ever get to know you, Max.”
“Bullshit. They will, Tess. I’m not missing out on being a part of his or her life.”
“What are you going to do, Max? Send us letters from Bora Bora?”
“Aruba.”
“Wherever.”
“No, I’m going to find a way to be part of this child’s life. A way to be a part of your life, Tess. I’ll talk with Marcum, and we’ll call in some favors. We’ll figure this out.”
His words bring me hope. And I almost allow them to soothe me, until I realize, it’s just a pipe dream. Max was in the pen for murder. That, in itself, is hard to get out of, but if you add on taking part in a jailbreak and prison riot, escaping, and taking a hostage, he may never see the light of day. I might could testify and get that last part taken off, but doing so may end up with me in prison and what will happen to my baby then? No, Max was right to begin with. There’s more than just me to consider now.
“Give me a chance, Tess. Don’t give up on me yet.”
“Does Marcum have that much power?”
“If anyone does, Tess, it would be him.”
“When will we know?”
“He’s working on it now. He seems to think he’d have an answer sometime tomorrow.”
“What do we do in the meantime?”
“We savor every moment, Kitten.”
“I’m still scared, Max.”
“I know.”
“It will all work out, Tess,” he says again and I know he’s trying to assure me, but I think that ship has sailed.
“You have more confidence in life, than I do Maxwell,” I tell him, my hand tightening in his.
“We have our happily ever after to find. My woman believes in fairytales. I want to be the fucker who gets to give them to her.”
“I like that,” I tell him.
“That I want to give you a happily ever after?”
“That you called me your woman.”
“You are, Tess. Regardless of what happens next, you are my woman.”
“I have your mark on me,” I whisper trying to find something to hold on to.
“And you have one on me,” he answers. I turn to look at him, not sure of what he is talking about. “Your surprise was kind of ruined,” he says, and I nod my head in agreement. I kind of forgot completely about it. It feels like a lifetime ago.
He takes his shirt off, reaches for my hand and places it just under his heart. Just under the spot that is glossy from the cream on it and shiny from the new tattoo. It’s a key, the kind that reminds you of old antique locks and the key had my name inside of it. Mine. A key over his heart, with my name. Tessa.
“A key above your heart, Max?” I question, and his smile is almost sheepish.
“What about it?”
“Not a thing,” I whisper leaning up to try and kiss him. He more than meets me half way. For this moment, I concentrate on his kiss and stop worrying about what happens next.
Marcum might not have been around when I needed him growing up, but he sure as hell has been working like a madman to help me now. He’s called in marker after marker and put feelers out, near and far, to try and save my sorry ass. I didn’t have a lot of hope, but I underest
imated the old man. Completely. I hug him and slap him hard on the shoulder.
“I owe you.”
“Fuck that. I want time with my grandkid.”
“When do we set all this in motion?”
“Tomorrow is soon enough; spend the day and night with your woman. Even with the governor’s assurance, this shit will be tricky and drawn out. It will be at least a month before you see the outside again, boy.”
“Yeah I know. I can deal,” I tell him and I can. I’m not looking forward to it. Before, it didn’t matter so much. I didn’t have a thing waiting for me on the outside. I didn’t even care if I kept breathing. Still, knowing Tess is waiting for me, I have everything.
“Then go; get your woman and give her something to keep her warm for the next month,” he orders and I flip him off. I don’t waste any time getting to Tess though. He may be an asshole, but he sure as hell isn’t wrong.
Fuck, I’m so damned eager; I’m practically running to our room. Tess is lying on the bed, reading. Gorgeous; with dark hair soft against her skin. Those long lashes of hers, highlighting her deep emerald eyes and that body. Hell, the woman’s body tears me up just looking at it. If I live to be a hundred, I don’t think I will ever get enough of her.
“Hey, you,” she smiles sleepily. She’s still sad. I’ve explained to her what Marcum is trying to work out. We both agree it’s the wisest move we have, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Any word?” she asks.
“Yeah. Marcum heard back from the Governor an hour ago. The deal is in place.”
“He’ll pardon you?”
“He told Marcum no less than three to four weeks after I turn myself in.”
“What? No! Max that’s a month! You can’t be locked up in that hellhole for a month!”
“Kitten, are you forgetting how long I was in there before I met you?”
“No, I’m not! That’s exactly the reason you shouldn’t be going back in there, Max. I still don’t see why we can’t take off for Aruba like we planned. I know we were worried about what could happen, but I think we’re just letting fear stop us.
“He can’t just do it the day I’m arrested, Tess.”
“Why not?” I give her a look, and she frowns at me, but it stops her lecture. “I don’t like it, Max.”
“Duly noted.”
“When does all this, go down?”
“Tomorrow,” I deliver the word like the sucker punch I know it’s going to be. Tess’s hand tremors and she puts it on her stomach where our child is resting. You can’t tell she’s pregnant and besides her being tired, there are no outward signs, but I swear, sometimes I can see it all over her. It’s going to kill me to be away from her.
“That’s too soon…” she whispers.
“The sooner it happens, the sooner I can come back to you and the baby.”
“You promise this guy can be trusted?”
“Marcum says he can,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she whispers standing up. She walks to me and stops when she gets right in front of me. She gives a smile, which is meant to be naughty, but the sadness in her eyes drowns it out.
“What are you doing?” I ask when she drops down onto her knees and reaches up to undo my belt.
“Making sure you know what’s waiting for you when you get out.”
“Tess…” My hands are caressing her face. This woman is cementing herself inside of me. She’s becoming a part of me, and it’s a part I can’t do without. Her small hand circles around my cock and I watch as she pumps it slowly. I want this, but still… “Kitten, you’ve been feeling bad…”
“I need this, Max. If I’m going to have to give you up for even one day, then I need all the memories I can gather.”
What man could say no to that? Not me. Then again, I’m thinking I could never say no to Tess. Ever.
It’s that sick feeling you have in the pit of your stomach; that refuses to let you go. That fear that threatens to buckle your knees and choke you with each step you take into the unknown. The slamming of your heart against your ribcage, so powerful, it is physically painful and the roaring of your own blood echoing in your ears. That’s what today is to me. Each step I take into the police station is agony.
We started this charade yesterday. This is day two. I’m being questioned as a follow-up to the report I filed yesterday.
“Ms. Oliver,” the portly officer at the front desk says. They know me, of course, it doesn’t even matter that I was here yesterday. Everyone knows me because my face has been plastered on the television. I’m wearing black dress pants, a red dress shirt with matching heels and big clunky sunglasses. My hair is pulled back in a reserved, austere look, and I appear to be every inch the cold legal professional—at least on the outside. On the inside, I’m a freaking mess.
It’s no coincidence that I am dressed almost exactly, the way I was, the day I met Max. That’s my signal to him. I don’t even know if I’ll get to see him today, but I’m hoping. He turned himself in yesterday. Marcum has a cop on his payroll, several really, but this one is a detective, and Marcum and Max decided this would be the cop who would take Max into custody. Detective Slater is a nice, older guy, and he treated Max with the utmost respect. I hope that continued, even after Max was arrested again, but I somehow doubt it. Today, I’m being interviewed, by Officer Slater’s partner; Detective Jake De Luca. He is everything that Officer Slater is not. He’s probably Max’s age or younger, he’s got jet black hair that’s trimmed close at the bottom and neat, a little thicker on the top, but styled so that not a strand is out of place. His body is muscled and well defined, in a way that if a girl wasn’t so in love with Max, she might look and enjoy looking, more. He’s got an Italian-New-Yorker-transplant accent, and his voice is deep. I don’t know how he ended up in Florida, or what his story is. The only thing I do know is that Detective De Luca doesn’t like me—or at the very least, he doesn’t believe me.
“I have a three o’clock appointment,” I tell guy at the front desk, but before I can finish, the Detective is standing in front of me.
“Ms. Oliver,” he says looking me over, and the way he looks at me makes me feel as if I have a piece of spinach on my teeth.
“Detective De Luca,” I acknowledge, trying my best to sound my most condescending.
“If you will follow me,” he says, clearly unimpressed.
“Your bodyguard can wait out here,” Detective De Luca says when we reach the outside of the small interrogation room.
“And you can go fuck yourself, Boy-o. I’m sticking close to my daughter in law,” Marcum says, and I can’t help but smile. He hasn’t let me out of his sight since Max left.
“I wasn’t aware that Ms. Oliver and Mr. Kincaid had gotten married.”
“We haven’t yet. Max felt he needed to pay his debt to society first, detective,” I respond.
“Clearly,” he says sarcastically.
His whole attitude is setting me off. I’m doing my best to hold my tongue. Alienating these people will not help Max. I need to get my man home. Marcum and I sit down at a table and wait while Detective De Luca closes the door. He sits down with a yellow legal pad and a pen.
“Before we get started can I get either of you a drink? Soda? Coffee?”
The detective has his own cup of coffee sitting on the table. The smell of it, combined with my nerves is getting to me, so I immediately motion my head no. Marcum doesn’t bother to answer. He’s leaning back in his seat appearing bored as hell. I envy him because I am a step away from screaming like a banshee. There’s silence for a couple of minutes while the detective sifts through papers. I’m think he’s doing it to make sure my nerves kill me. That’s what it feels like.
“I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour,” I tell him, to hurry this along when it becomes apparent I may die of old age before he starts. Marcum reaches behind me and rubs my back soothingly. It almost makes me smile. Max would hate it, but he is so much like his dad. I wonder if I have a son if he
will be like the two of them. There are definitely worse things that could happen.
“Oh, that’s right. I had forgotten. You and your abductor are having a child together.”
It takes everything I have, not to flinch at his coldly delivered statement.
“Max did not abduct me. We’ve been over this detective.”
“Pardon me, your boyfriend. I know we have been over this, Ms. Oliver. I’m just finding it hard to connect the dots. There are some major holes in your story.”
“I do not see how,” I tell the asshole. Marcum is continuing to pet my back. He probably thinks I need calming down. I do. I’m about to rip this asshole a new one and then maybe—maybe, I’ll feel better.
“Well, for starters, Ms. Oliver, why did you not go back into the main entrance of the jail, where you would most assuredly be safe? Why follow the inmate further into the jail?”
“His name is Maxwell,” this time Marcum replies, and I almost smile.
The detective doesn’t reply; his eyes are on me the entire time. I take a breath and go over the story and that Max and Marcum have drilled in my head. Honestly, it’s not far off from the truth. Marcum said the best lies always have elements of the truth, so this careful, well-thought out version of the day Max and I met, follows along that line of thinking.
“I told you, detective. The guard panicked. When the alarms sounded, he ran into the chaos. Without him and because the prison alarms were going off, I assumed I couldn’t get the guard to buzz me back in through the locked doors. It was all happening so fast. Max thought if I acted as his prisoner we would have a better chance of making sure I got out of everything safely.”
“That’s the part I don’t get, Ms. Oliver. The cameras show Max manhandling you, and clearly there was fear on your face, a panic even. I saw nothing loving or tender at all, in the way Mr. Kincaid treated you that day, if, in fact, you and he were having this relationship, as you stated.”