Craving Cecilia (The Aces' Sons 6)

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It wasn’t the cool air, or the lack of sounds, or the presence of someone else in the room with me that woke me up. It was the absence of light coming in from the window. Something was blocking it. Less than a second later, I felt a fist in my hair.

“Get up and keep your mouth shut,” a voice whispered into my ear, as he dragged me from the bed.

As I arched, trying to relieve the pressure on my scalp, I pulled the blankets up over my pillow.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” he hissed as he pulled me painfully to my feet. “You think you’re safe here? You ain’t safe anywhere.”

His breath was hot and wet and as I turned my face, trying to get away from it, I caught a glimpse of a knife in his right hand.

“Baby ain’t in the crib. Where’s the baby?” he asked, the point of the knife poking through the clothing at my ribs. “Huh? Which room?”

Somehow, he hadn’t seen her. Deliberately keeping my eyes forward, I clenched my teeth and firmed my lips. The knife pressed closer and, magically, it strengthened me.

“I’m not playin’ around with you. Where’s the fuckin’ kid?”

Everything I’d done to that point, every mistake I’d made, every scrape I’d escaped from, every bridge I’d burned, every relationship I’d ruined and mended, every decision I’d ever made, coalesced into that single moment. He could do anything to me. I wasn’t going to say a single goddamn word. Not one.

Any parent would tell you that they’d die for their child. I was one of the few who would ever put that into action. And honestly, I was ready.

He was being quiet so he wouldn’t be caught. I would be silent for a very different reason. I couldn’t scream, not without alerting him to where Olive was. I couldn’t fight him for the same reason. Any noise could wake her up. The only weapon I had was my silence.

“Bitch, he wants you alive,” he said, sliding the knife along my ribs. My heart thundered in my ears as I felt the sting and then the wetness. “But he said to get that kid by any means necessary.”

Silence.

His hand went to his waist, and before I could brace myself, he swung me wide and the impact of his fist against my cheekbone was almost as startling as it was excruciating. The only sound in the room was a dull thud. I didn’t even whimper.

He paused. Then, another hit. Another pause. Another hit, this one to my stomach.

I wheezed as I instinctively curled forward and was pulled straight by the hand in my hair.

“You think you’ll win this?” he asked, yanking me forward until our faces were just inches apart. I memorized his face. “Tell me where the kid is.”

I gasped and relaxed as much as I could, letting out a long slow breath. Then I spit in his face.

I’m not sure how long it went on. At some point, I lost track of everything except the overwhelming need to stay silent, to stay on my feet, to stay away from the bed. I focused on each point of pain as he paused, his words holding no meaning before the blows began again.

Then, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, the door to the bedroom swung open and light from the hallway shined inside.

The loud report of a gunshot made my ears ring, and I dropped to my knees as the man in front of me went down, his hand still around my throat.

Olive’s high-pitched wails filled the room.

I’d done it. She was safe.

Chapter 14

Mark

“How the fuck did they get inside?” Casper bellowed as the sound of footsteps filled the hallway. I ignored the noise around me as I focused on Cecilia, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

I’d known something was up when I’d pulled in the front gate. Something was off. The back of my neck had started tingling and my gut had twisted, both signs that I’d learned to pay attention to, but I couldn’t see anything out of place. Boys were still manning the gate, a few old timers were sitting out front in lawn chairs passing around a joint, the main space of the clubhouse was empty, but still held the feeling of being occupied.

Not knowing what else to look for, but still feeling uneasy, I’d headed straight to our room. Just to check. Just to make sure.

My hand was on the doorknob before I’d heard the sounds. Thumping, but not with any sort of rhythm. I’d paused, trying to figure out what the noise was. I’d always hate myself for that pause.

Then I’d reached into my holster as I opened the door. And thank fuck, I had.

It had taken me less than a second to process what was happening, and in that small snapshot of time, I’d pulled my weapon from the holster, my body knowing what to do before my mind could even catch up. I hadn’t worried that I’d miss him, not at that distance. I’d fired without hesitation.