Wrong Kind of Love

“What the fuck!”

“You’re a piece of shit,” I shout, crossing the room.

“Jesus Christ! I wasn’t fucking anyone.”

“Bullshit.” My palm meets his cheek with a clap.

His jaw tics, nostrils flaring. “I swear to God if you think—”

“Jude. Little help.” Marney’s voice comes from outside, followed by a crash and a bang. “Would you stop flailing around like a snake with a possum?”

Jude tosses his head back on a groan, and when I go to move toward the door, he latches onto my arm. “Tor. Wait.”

He wants me to wait. Fuck him. They’re both up to something, and if Marney knows anything about some whore... I yank away from him and open the back door. The floodlight shines over Marney wrestling with a girl, hands bound and a strip of duct tape over her mouth. Jude has scratches on his arms because he kidnapped a girl? And that might be worse than him fucking someone. What is wrong with me? It should one hundred percent be worse.

“You took a girl?” When I spin back to the kitchen, Jude’s gaze is aimed at the floor.

“It’s the only way to get to Tom,” he says barely above a whisper.

I swing from anger to horror to pity in a heartbeat. Closing the distance between us, I cup his cheek and force his gaze to mine. The anguish in his eyes is bone-deep. I can’t tell him it’s okay because it’s not. I was once an innocent victim just like that girl, and I can’t stand the thought of playing any part in this, even if it’s just standing by. “Promise me you won’t hurt her and that you won’t give her to Tom.”

There’s a beat of hesitation I don’t like. “I promise.” His hand slides over mine, pulling it from his face. “Now, please, go upstairs, Tor.”

Marney wrangles the girl inside, and our gazes meet. Her eyes beg me to help her, but instead of helping her, I force myself to walk away and climb the stairs to the bedroom.

Over the next several minutes, I ignore the muffled conversation that drifts through the floor. I fist the sheets, fighting the urge to go help her and hating myself for it. If there’s even a chance that this will result in Tom’s death, then I need to take it. For my child. And this baby is the only thing that could trump an innocent girl.

My stomach knots as the minutes tick by. Eventually, Jude comes upstairs, and the fractured look on his face has my heart squeezing. Jude isn’t a bad person, and I know he doesn’t want to do this. He’s just protecting his family.

He tugs his shirt off and sinks to the bed, dropping his head to his hands. Despair clings to him, and I want to take it away, to comfort him the way he’s comforted me so much. I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. “It’s okay,” I whisper.

“It’s not…”

I rake my fingers through his hair as he presses his face against my throat. “If you don’t find him, he will find us, Jude…” I let that statement hang in the air between us. I don’t have to tell him what Tom will do if he finds us.

“I know.” Then his hand slides between us, palming my rounding stomach. “I can’t risk this…”

I’d do anything to protect our baby, but the ugly lash of conflict rips away at my insides. I want my child safe, and I want Tom dead, but not at the expense of a young girl. She’s also someone’s child. “You won’t hurt her?”

“No. She’s just a bargaining chip. Her father’s Tom’s driver.”

“It’s fine. Just a means to an end.” I don’t know if I’m convincing myself or justifying this for both of us.

His lips press to mine. “I would do anything to keep you safe, Tor. Any-fucking-thing.”

_____

Marney moves around the kitchen the same as almost every morning. Only today, we’re ignoring the elephant in the room, ergo, the kidnapped girl that I know is locked in the spare room.

The old man is on a French toast cooking spree, loading a plate with way more food than necessary.

When Jude walks in, he moves around the kitchen, making his coffee without looking at me. But even from here, I can make out the dark circles below his eyes, the stress tight on his face. I can’t take it anymore.

“Okay, how long are you keeping her?” I hate the thought of her being scared and alone. At least when Jude took me, I had Caleb.

“I’m taking her tonight,” he finally says.

My stomach knots. That means Jude is going after Tom tonight. We’ve been waiting around for over a month with no word, and suddenly, it’s happening. Now. I’ve been so focused on retribution that it’s only now the thought that occurs to me: if it doesn’t work, Jude won’t make it out alive. Panic grips me. I can’t lose him. “Maybe we should just run, move country. Hide.”