Razing Grace [Part 2] Page 9

  Once I finally reach the top of the stairs, I follow directions until I get to room twelve. Pushing the key into the slot, I jiggle open the door and step inside. The thick, musky scent of age and something dead hits me right away, and I scrunch up my nose.

  “What am I doing?”

  With my heart in tatters and my confusion deep, I step into the dark, cold room and close the door behind me.

  I HAVE $3,458.98 in cash. I managed to pull out as much money as I could from the ATM before ditching my card. It’s been one whole week since I ran away from Raze, and so far, he hasn’t found me. Now, I just have to make it through seven or so months, if I’m counting my dates right.

  Turning on my side to face the window, trying to get used to this cardboard mattress, I watch as the stars glitter up in the sky and wonder if Raze is okay, wherever he is. He probably already hates me, or worse, has an army of men after me. I know this, but I can’t risk telling him that I’m pregnant. He didn’t handle it well with Amy, and he’s already made it very clear he’s not good with babies and kids. So how could I tell him that I’m pregnant with his?

  I love Raze, and I know he absolutely would’ve done anything for me, just anything that didn’t involve me having his child. It’s not that I don’t trust him, or think he would’ve killed me and the baby.

  Actually, no, that’s a lie. I did think this, and it’s why I ran.

  Do I think he cares about me? Yes. Do I think he would hurt me? Yes. Raze is a businessman first, a killer second, and then my partner last. That’s how I always felt the cookie crumbled when it came to our life together. I don’t trust what he would do to me, if he knew I’m pregnant. But I know I’d kill him myself before I let him hurt my baby.

  There was no way he would have met my news with a smile. Absolutely no way. Turning onto my back, and figuring I won’t be getting any sleep any time soon, I flick on my bedside light and lean back on my headboard. The furniture I bought are all thrift shop items, but they’ll do. My plain double bed sits inside the studio apartment, and my couch and little TV are at the end of my bed. The bathroom is right beside my bed, and the kitchen is on the other side of the TV.

  The place is old and the walls are plastered a mangy mustard color, but the one thing I do like about it is the large window that sits right beside my bed. The view during the day is rather depressing, what with all the abandoned buildings and homeless people who walk around down below, but the view of the sky at night is stunning.

  Swinging my legs off the bed, I walk toward the couch where my phone is and scoop it up. The time reads 1:00 a.m., but I’m thinking she’s used to phone calls at all hours. Pressing Call, I place the phone to my ear and wait until she picks up.

  “Hello?”

  “Bella,” I say breathlessly. “I need your help.”

  “LOOK HARDER.” I HUNCH OVER my chair as all six boys stare at me in bewilderment. “What?” I snap at them, and they shake their heads.

  “Look,” Angel says, stepping forward. I still don’t know if I trust him or not, or whether he’s hiding anything, but in the end, I always find out. “Maybe she just wanted to leave, Raze. I mean that on completely neutral ground. Maybe she jus—”

  “Didn’t want me?” I finish for him, standing to all my six-foot five-inches. I step toward Angel and he steps back. “Tell me, why would she tell me she loves me and that she wants to be with me, but then leave? You were the last person to see her, so you wanna tell me something I’m missing here? ‘Cause I got fucking nothing.”

  Angel glares at me. “I didn’t do anything. She wanted to leave, Raze. It was her decision. I couldn’t stop that. She caught a cab and that was that.”

  “And you didn’t call me?”

  “I did, but you didn’t answer.”

  He called once. He should have called more.

  Royal stands from the table. “Raze? What’s the plan?”

  I step backward, sitting back on my seat. “She knows too much.”

  “So what?” Angel scoffs. “You gonna eighty-six her? The woman you may not be able to admit yet is the one and only person you have ever loved or given a shit about?”

  “This”—I point to the table—“is what I have to protect. She left me. Why should I protect her over what I’ve spent years upon years building? When you can answer me that, then we can talk. But she knows too much. She knows my alliances, she knows the deals we’ve done, she knows who is in my pockets from the DA, she knows it all. This is exactly why you don’t tell women shit. Even if you marry them.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Angel whispers from his seat. “Man, Millie would never fucking rat. She’s been down for you through fucking everything.” He stands from his seat and I lean back in mine. Obviously, the man needs to vent. “Think about what you’re doing here, Raze. She knows you, knew your darkest and deepest demons, yet she still loved you. She’s loyal to you, and has been since she set foot in this house. Hell, probably ever since she laid her innocent eyes on you in the dungeon. What’d the note say?” he asks, leaning his fists on the table.

  “Are you done with your bitching?” I run my index finger over my upper lip.

  “What did the note say, Raze?”

  I fish it out of my pocket and fling it toward him. He catches it midair and unwraps it, his eyes looking to me for a brief second before reading.

  Shaking his head, he places the note onto the table. “She knew you’d kill her, or at the very least try.”

  “She knows me, Angel. Sit the fuck down before I put a bullet between your eyes.” He pauses, his jaw flexing a couple of times. “Or is there something else you’d like to share with everyone?”

  Angel sits back down, his eyes remaining on the wall. “Nothing.”

  It has been three months since I left Raze, and he still hasn’t found me. Or he has and he’s waiting for his chance. I’m not sure which it is. I close my eyes as my hands skim over my belly. There’s a little swollen bump that sits under the palm of my hand now. I really wish I could talk to my mom around this time, see what she was like when she was pregnant with me and Melissa. See if she was showing only five months in.

  “Millie?”

  Everything snaps into focus. “Sorry, what? I zoned out.”

  “I saw that.” Bella smiles at me. “Hon, we need to get you an ultrasound. I’m going to write you a prescription for prenatals and referral for a sonogram. Is that okay?” Her eyes are etched with worry; even I can see that. But she understands my fear. She understands, because she knows Raze. When I called her that first night, I had every intention of getting her to refer me to a different doctor, because I didn’t want to involve her, but she was adamant that she wanted to do this.

  “Okay.” I rub my hand over my belly. “Ultrasound it is.”

  She scribbles on her pad, crossing her legs. Bella always looks presentable. With suit slacks on and a loose white blouse, and her brown hair up in a Chinese bun, she’s beautiful and strong. She stops writing and tears off a piece of paper, handing it to me. “That’s for your ultrasound, and this,” she finishes off writing on another piece and then tears it off, “is for iron supplements. You need it. Also, we need to get some blood tests done at some point, but I think we can do that at our next visit.” She smiles softly, placing her hand over mine. “I love your hair, by the way.”

  She gestures toward my head, and I run my fingers through my now dark brown, almost black, hair. “Thanks. Thought it might be the smart thing to do, you know, considering.”

  Her brow cocks. “Considering you’re still in Vegas?”

  I smile. “Yes.” I didn’t want to go far off the map, or I simply couldn’t. I didn’t have the funds or the connections to just drop off the face of the earth in some obscure European town—as much as I would have liked to. And anyway, Raze wouldn’t guess I’d still be here. He wouldn’t expect me to be stupid enough to remain on his turf.

  She nods. “True, but the hair suits you. I like it.”

&n
bsp; “Thanks.” I look down to my hands. “Have you heard from him?”

  “Raze?” she asks. “Yeah, Joker got into a bit of trouble a couple weeks ago.”

  My heart thuds in my chest. “What kind of trouble? Is he okay?” I don’t know why I care so much about these men. They had done unspeakable things to me, but somewhere between the dungeon and the day I left, we had all grown close.

  She smiles, packing her papers into her satchel. “Don’t you worry about those boys.”

  But I do. I do worry. I am worrying. My heart feels hollow, but I know this is what I have to do. Bella begins walking toward the door and I quickly stand.

  “Thank you!” I blurt out, just as her hand grasps the door handle.

  She turns to face me, pushing her bag up her shoulder more. “For what?”

  “For everything, but especially for doing this for me. I know what you’re risking.”

  She grins. “No problem, Millie. Rest.” Then she’s gone, and I’m left in my icy apartment. It’s times like these, the lonely times, when I really miss Miles. I know he’s here with me through everything anyway, but these silent moments are the ones I can feel his presence more and hear his snide little comments. If he were still alive, he would’ve been here with me. I have no doubt about it.

  Walking to the shower, I scrub up quickly—not by choice, but because there’s usually no hot water left this late in the afternoon. I then shimmy into my silk robe. It’s pearl-white, rimmed in lace, and hangs just over my butt cheeks. Brushing my hair out, I make a hot chocolate and then hit the couch, flicking through whatever is on network TV. Checking that my pistol is loaded and sitting under my cushion, I lay down on my side, and it isn’t long before my eyes shut and sleep takes hold.

  Wet leaves crunch under my feet as I run through the gloomy forest. Misty fog whispers past my cheeks and through my hair, my breath coming in violent waves. My feet pound over the forest floor and my hair whips across my face in haunting lashes. Multiple laughs echo around me, seeping into my flesh and turning my blood ice-cold until all the warmth I was feeling was replaced by utterly glacial mist. With shivers erupting over my skin, I stop my running and look from left to right.

  “What do you want?” I scream out, slowly stepping backward through the murky air until my back collides with a rough tree trunk.

  The deep laughter slinks out again as a pitter-patter of footsteps rush nearby. My hand cups my belly protectively, and I gasp, looking down at my hands. “No!” I shake my head, blood seeping off my fingertips.

  “No.” I shake my head as pain rips through every cell in my body. “No!” I scream, dropping to my knees and curling into a fetal position. I look up through the painful surges that are wracking through my body, and that’s when I see them. All six of them wearing their assigned masks, their chests vibrating with laughter.

  Raze removes his mask and cocks his head. “Judgment day, pet. Your time is fucking up.”

  I open my eyes, launching off the couch in an erratic mess, and swipe away the waterfall of sweat that’s pouring down my face. My heart pounds in my chest at super-sonic speeds, and I look down to my belly, my hand cupping around my very real and very there bump.

  “Shit,” I whisper, attempting to bring my heart rate down. Fuck, pregnancy does crazy stuff to your dreams.

  Turning off the television, I scoop up my pistol from under my pillow and walk toward my bed, slipping under the covers. Curling into the blankets, I hope the dream doesn’t pick up where it ended.

  The alarm on my phones rings out, interrupting my sleep. I moan, crawling out of bed slowly and making my way to the shower. I wash up in record time before throwing on a long maxi dress, which hugs my breasts but flows nicely down to my feet. In a hurry, I braid my hair into a fishtail and let it fall loosely over my shoulder before grabbing my phone and handbag and walking out the front door.

  “Hey, Benny,” I say to the lone cat that is always sitting at the top of the stairs. I’m not sure who owns him, but I leave food out for him most nights. I’m still getting used to cooking for one instead of for a pack of boars who look like they’ve came off a mystical ship from Valhalla.

  Walking out the front doors, I start toward the closest community clinic. It’s about a five-minute trek, which isn’t far, and anyway, the morning is my favorite time of the day to go for a walk. It’s when half the world is still in their sleepy haze, when the air is fresh, crisp, and seemingly untouched. I look around my surroundings. Well, at least the air is all those things. I wouldn’t be able to say the same about the environment.

  Crossing the road, there’s a homeless man warming up his hands in front of a barrel fire in the middle of an empty playground. I bet that playground was once fresh and vibrant. Now it just hangs there in a gnarled mess of old wood and rusted metal. The buildings I pass are mainly covered in artistic graffiti, the intricate splashes of paint sprayed over the old, rundown buildings.

  It’s rustic here, but broken. It’s real. Raze would never think to find me here, ever. At the thought of his name, goose bumps prickle down my spine and an eerie whoosh of wind sweeps over my skin, bristling through my hair.

  Prickles of horror spark as the feeling of someone following me cracks through my chest, and I spin around suddenly, in a heavy-breathing mess, only to find nothing. Just some young boys I passed and the homeless man back at the park, where the flame continues to flicker under his hand. Attempting to bring my breathing under control again, I turn back around and walk toward my appointment, this time picking up my pace.

  “A GIRL?” I WHISPER, LOOKING down at the little black-and-white sonogram picture. Horror slowly snakes under my skin. “Five months along, and a girl?” I stand to my feet and place the photo onto my small wicker bedside table. I don’t know why the thought of having a girl terrifies me more than having a boy. Possibly, it’s because I was hoping that maybe, one day, I’d see Raze again, and he just seems like the type of person who would rather have a boy than a girl. Exhaling out a tired breath, my brick-like ancient phone blares from the bed. Scooping it up, I answer right away.

  “Millie?” my mom’s semi-panicked voice replies. Melissa must have given her my phone number. I’d have to talk to her about her big mouth.

  “Yeah, hey, Mom. What’s up?” No one knows I’m pregnant, no one at all except Bella. They all think Raze and I had a big breakup and that I just want to be left a one for a while. Melissa has been withdrawing money out of my trust account and delivering it to my little post office box I have reserved in town. I mailed her a key so she could access it. I can’t risk Raze ever finding out, but I also know that he wouldn’t hurt Melissa. Well, at least I’d hope he wouldn’t hurt her. I’m relying on Hella to keep her safe.

  “Honey, I’m worried about you. I haven’t seen you in six months.”

  I exhale, plunking down onto the sofa. “I know, Mom. I’ve just been so busy.”

  “I know you and your sister have your own lives now, and I love that you do, but I miss you both, honey.”

  “We know, Mom, but you raised us to be independent. You should be proud of that.”

  “I am,” she answers softly. “I’m so very proud of you both, but I’m still your mother.”

  I giggle, taking off my Keds and slinging them across the room. “Where in the world are you this time?” I lean back on the sofa and elevate my legs on the coffee table.

  “In the Hamptons. The people here are not my kind of people.”

  I can see her fake smile while she’s talking on the phone, maintaining her appearance and all that. “Well, I’m glad you’re keeping busy.”

  “Where are you staying? Melissa said you found a man and you had a fight?”

  “Yes,” I hiss. “I’m staying at a place. It’s not too far from all of you.” Obviously, it’s far from the Hamptons, but Mom knew I was in Vegas anyway, so it’s just about trying to keep her questions to a minimum.

  “That’s not very comforting, Millie.”

&n
bsp; “I didn’t say it to comfort you, Mom. I’m just telling the truth.”

  “You sound different. Stronger.”

  I smile. “Maybe. Hey, Melissa and I were talking about our baby photos,” I lie, wanting to ask my mom so many questions about pregnancy, and honestly, it was just nice to talk to her, or to anyone, because I’ve been so isolated. “Anyway, what was your births and pregnancies like with us? Melissa says that she was the hardest birth for you, and I was easy.”

  Mom sighs down the phone. “Yes and no. Both of you were the same, pregnancy-wise. The births, on the other hand, started to get shorter. Melissa was long and tedious, but you were short and sweet.”

  I smirk smugly, but then remember that she said her first was harder. “How long were you in labor for?”

  “Melissa was around twenty hours, and you were around four hours.”

  “Wow,” I whisper. “That’s a big difference.”

  “Well,” Mom says, “you were always both so very different.”

  “That’s true. Okay, Mom, I better go. I’ll give you a call next week, okay?”

  She huffs. “Okay, sweetie. Keep in contact.”

  After hanging up the phone, I fling it onto the coffee table and stretch out my stiff limbs on the squeaky sofa. I sink into the uncomfortable spring couch, my hand sinking under the pillow, where my pistol is tucked safely, and before I know it, sleep pulls me in.

  The pebbles imprinted into the soles of my feet as I continued to run across the road. The inky night fell around me in dark echoes from the moon taking the sun’s place as I looked down at the golden watch that was strapped around my wrist. Confusion shades my vision. It showed 12:00 p.m. Why was it so dark at 12:00 p.m.? And whose was this damn watch?

  “Run, run, as fast as you can….”

  I jolted and resumed my running at the sound of the lullaby being sung by a familiar voice. Joker. I headed straight for the abandoned playground I had passed so many mornings, and ducked under the old wooden playhouse, drawing in deep, labored breaths. Dried, withered leaves whisked in the air, entrapped in tiny tornados, sending deathly chills crawling across my face.