After we’d released Dobby into the house, he’d gone back out and opened all the windows and doors of his Explorer to air it out, threatening to charge Elijah for pain and suffering.
Then, one by one, the other brothers had arrived. They’d come to visit their parents to celebrate the news of the baby, and hearing that Elijah had to go in to speak to the police, they’d made the two-hour drive here to watch over me. I felt really touched by it, especially when the first thing the big men did was to touch my stomach and introduce themselves to the baby.
It’d been agreed that I’d stay inside while they took turns ‘walking the perimeter’ like we were in a movie.
That was until Orson Riley walked, bold as brass, up to the door and knocked on it with a gun in his hand. With all of the security that Elijah had installed, all of the men going in and out of the house, he’d assumed that he’d be able to pull off kidnapping me in broad daylight with none of them stopping it.
At the time, Webb had been in the shower, unable to handle smelling like Dobby any longer, and the others had been in various locations in and out of the house. Maybe he hadn’t realized that they were all here or how many of them there were?
I really couldn’t say because he hadn’t answered a damn question about it since Jackson had walked up the driveway behind him, stopping about ten feet away from where he was standing with a gun pointed at Orson’s back.
“That’s not a gun, this is a gun,” he said in a terrible Australian accent.
Orson hadn’t even flinched. He just kept his eyes on me, not even blinking through the argument between Jackson and Marcus over who’d said it better. I wasn’t paying them any attention either because the look in his eyes was freaking me out.
“Will you guys shut the— Oh, what the fuck?” Jesse yelled as he walked up behind us, seeing Orson still standing there with a gun pointed at me while his brothers argued behind him.
“He’s got the safety on,” Jackson said, not looking away from his brother.
Here’s the thing, being a Brit, my knowledge of guns was basic.
During my vacations here, I’d had the opportunity to learn how to shoot, but that’d all ended after I’d accidentally shot Dad’s computer when I was trying to be Clint Eastwood and spin the gun I’d found in Dad’s safe. Someone had chosen that moment to call him on Skype, and I’d shit myself, and the gun had gone off, killing the call—and the computer—in a matter of seconds.
I’d had a relatively healthy respect for guns before then, but after it, I was fucking terrified of the things. Add onto it the bullet that’d been fired through my leg seven months ago, and even seeing one freaked me out.
And yet again, someone was pointing one at me, except this time it was my daughter’s life that was on the line, too. So the twins arguing over something as inane as an Australian accent and who had said something better was irrelevant to me and my fear at that moment. I also didn’t care if the safety was on or not, I just wanted it not to be pointed straight at my stomach.
“I see,” Jesse murmured, moving to stand next to me. “Sir, I think you should lower the weapon. Accidents can happen with guns, and we don’t want Sadie getting hurt, do we?”
That snapped Orson out of his trance. “Hello, Sadie, love. It’s good to see you.”
I couldn’t say I felt the same way, so I didn’t say anything or react to the greeting.
The corner of his mouth tipped up at this. “We miss you at home, you know. I thought I’d see you after my trip, but you weren’t there.”
“What the fuck?” Jesse whispered quietly enough so that only I could hear it, echoing the question going through my head at that moment.
Orson’s eyes were vacant and laser-focused on me like there was nothing else going on around him. He had zero concern for the fact that there were two men still arguing behind him or the large one standing next to me. It was like nothing else existed except for me.
When I’d been kidnapped with Ariana, I’d seen how quickly the safety on a gun could be flipped off. I’d also seen how quickly someone could just choose to pull the trigger. And I’d definitely felt the pain a bullet caused. It’d just been me then, though, and my only other concern at the time had been Ari’s safety. Yes, I’d been terrified, but that feeling paled in comparison to what I felt now.
I’d only just met my daughter, hadn’t even held her yet, or got to tell her that I loved her. I hadn’t had the chance to memorize all of her features or see Elijah do the same. Four days ago, when we’d found out she was a girl, I’d felt a love that almost suffocated me for both of them.