Corps Security: The Series (126 page)

I burst out laughing, complete with snorting and almost choking on my spit. “Holy shit, Dee. How can you be so clueless about something that is so natural for a woman’s body? No, there is no chance that the baby will have a . . . how did you put it? Oh, a cheese head.” I snort again. “Sex isn’t off-limits, but now that I’ve gotten bigger, we have to get more creative. I prefer doggie style. Just makes it easier with all of the pressure my body has. No need to worry, Dee. You won’t have to give up sex when you get pregnant.”

She is shaking her head rapidly, looking pleased with this news.

Wait a minute . . .

“Dee?” I question.

“Hmm,” she responds, lost in thought.

“Are you pregnant?” I hope she is. I know that she had the worst parents in the world, but she and Beck would make amazing parents.

“What? Oh, no. Well, I don’t think so at least.”

Well, damn.

“Do you want to be?” I sigh.

“I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately. Between you, Izzy being pregnant again, Melissa with the twins all tiny and cute, it’s just been on my mind more than normal. I worried when they got older and weren’t all adorable babies anymore that they would be gross, but Cohen and Nate are two cool kids, so I think I’m open to it now.”

“That’s good, Dee. If you want to talk about it, just let me know. Maybe sit down with Beck and see where he stands with it? Maybe he wants to wait a little while. I mean, don’t you want to get married first?”

Some people might be bothered by the fact that I’m not married and pregnant, but then again, they would probably drop dead if they knew I was knocked up with my fiancé’s brother’s baby. To each their own—normal is boring anyways.

“Of course I do. We’re setting a date soon. Now that things have settled down, I think it’s time for me to make an honest man out of him.”

We laugh together and enjoy the rest of the car ride, talking about how long we think the latest Kardashian marriage will last and the newest purses we saw on our favorite site. When she pulls up to the front of my building, we make plans for dinner next week. I wave her off and walk into the building.

Going to wave to Joe, I frown when I notice that he isn’t standing in his normal spot.
Damn, this place looks weird without him standing there smiling at me.
Oh well. He must have gotten called away.

I was halfway across the lobby when I remembered that I left my laptop in my car yesterday when I went to work at Starbucks. I laugh to myself when I recall Asher picking on me because I went into a coffee shop to work when I can’t even drink it. Hey, what can I say? I love the smell and it’s one of the best places to people-watch.

I bypass the button to my floor and press the one that will take me under the building to where our parking garage is located. Digging in my bag as I walk towards my car does nothing to help me find my keys. I grab my phone and stick it in my back pocket before starting my search up again.

Feeling the cold metal, I close my hands around them and go to pull them out. When I lift my head, I freeze at what I see.

My car is
demolished.
A total mess of what once was perfect. There isn’t an inch of my car that isn’t covered in scratches, dings, and dents—and red . . . paint?

My mind is telling me that there’s no way I’m seeing this right. Maybe I’m on some sick version of
Punk’d.

Dead center of what used to be my hood is five perfectly sprayed letters.

WHORE

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I try to push down the feeling of helplessness as I turn and run as best as I can back to the elevator car. I jam my finger over and over on the ‘door close’ button. I pray that whoever did that to my car isn’t about to slam their hand between the doors, cutting off my escape.

When the doors finally close, I rub my hands over Zac’s baby bump and will myself to calm down. I can’t be getting this upset. I’m sure whoever did this is long gone. I bet they even got the wrong car. It was probably meant to be Wendy Westlake’s car and they got mine instead. Our cars are almost identical. She has the door across from our apartment and I swear it’s open later than Taco Bell. Everyone knows they stay open late.

My body is still shaking and I can’t seem to calm down. When the car dings on my floor, I make my way to our door with wooden legs. I just need to get inside and call Asher. He’ll know what to do.

My hands are shaking so badly that I drop my keys twice. Bending over is a blast when you’ve got a large beach ball in your front. I feel my jeans get tight across my ass, and I groan when I hear my phone start making noises like the touchscreen has been activated. I swear I butt-dial more people that way.

I throw the door open and rush in, pressing myself against the door and letting out the breath I was holding. Now that I’m safe in my apartment, I allow my body to really start feeling the fear of seeing my car smashed and beaten. Vandalized with so much brutal force.

I go to grab my cell from my pocket but stop dead when I see her.

A scream escapes my lips and I feel my heart drop. Ice-cold terror is picking up speed inside my body, making me feel faint and powerless.

She’s standing in the middle of my living room with a hammer swinging in one hand, the other holding one of Zac’s stuffed animals.

I shift my weight, wondering if I could reach the doorknob and get out before she could reach me. My plans are ruined when she sees my intent and growls, “Don’t fucking move, whore.”

I don’t know who this woman is, but if she thinks she’s going to do something to harm my life, my baby, then she’s got another thing coming. I straighten my shoulders and vow silently to Zac that Mommy will protect him.

She takes a menacing step towards me, and I pray for a miracle.

CHAPTER 34

Chelcie

“What do you want?” I’m proud of myself for keeping my voice steady, for not letting her see the fear that is taking over my system.

“You really are a stupid whore, aren’t you?” Her nasally voice sounds so flat, almost dead, and when it fills my ears, it just adds to the terror.

“If it’s money you want—here. Take my purse,” I plead. “We don’t have any jewelry or valuables here.”

Her eyes flash to my left hand and I could curse my beautiful diamond.

“Oh, I beg to differ, whore. You have
everything
of value to me. Let me tell you a story, hmm?” She walks closer to me and I stand my ground, refusing to give her the benefit of my cowering. “Get your fat ass in there and sit the fuck down,” she hisses, grabbing my hair and bringing the wooden end of the hammer up to slam against my cheekbone. The longer end clips the top of my eye and it causes stars to immediately dance in front of me.

Okay, that hurt.

Tears are burning my eyes, and I can feel something warm running down my cheek. When I don’t move quickly enough, she curls her fist tighter and forces me to the ground in the middle of the living room. I twist and steady myself so I don’t fall on my stomach. I can feel Zac kicking and rolling, and I close my eyes in relief that he’s okay. She grabs some duct tape out of her bag and walks behind me to bind my wrists painfully together. She throws the tape off to the side and I hear it crash into something, sending it shattering against the hardwood. I don’t dare take my eyes off of her though. I need to keep my wits about me if I’m going to get us out of this alive.

“Time for your goodnight story, little whore. There once was a beautiful woman. She had the most expensive clothes, all the money she could ever want, and a body every woman around would die for . . . And she had the most handsome prince in all the land. That prince was perfect, you see, and he wanted to give the princess everything she ever wanted. What she wanted was to rule her kingdom. Now I’ll skip all of the boring parts, but her prince has been lost. You see, he wasn’t lost to the princess. She
always
knew where to find her prince. He needed some time to remember how much he
craves
his princess. So she has waited patiently.”

She takes a break from her twisted tale. She just stares at me with this dazed and confused look on her face. I swear she can’t even focus. Her eyes keep getting larger and then squinting.

“I’ve been watching. I’m always watching,” she mumbles.

I watch in shocked horror as she spins the hammer even faster. Her confusion to the reality around her is making her one deadly, hammer-wielding lunatic.

“Who are you?” I implore.

My head snaps back when she cracks me again with the wooden handle. I lock my body and only sway slightly. Goddamn, that one hurt worse.

“
Who am I?
” she screeches, the sound making my eardrums protest. “Who am I? I am Sarah Jane Clarkston, and I’m here to finally take my prince back. And to remove MY baby from your whore body before you taint her!”

I watch in horror as she starts jamming the blunt end of the hammer into one of her eyes, mumbling over and over, “I’ve been watching. I’m always watching.” She digs at her hair, pulling out chunks at a time and throwing them on the floor. My mouth drops when she takes her blunt nails and claws them down her face before she pushes her arm out wide—then slams her fist into her face.

What in the fucking hell?

While she’s busy coming completely fucking unhinged, I try my hardest to get the tape off. I realize quickly enough that there’s no use. She has it so tight that I’m already starting to lose feeling in my fingers.

She stops her abuse to her face and starts crawling around on the floor. She’s still mumbling under her breath. “I’ve been watching. I’m always watching.”

I take advantage of her distraction and start looking around for something to use, something that can free my hands.

I spot one of my decorative vases that must have been what took the hit when crazy pants over there tossed the tape. I look around, seeing if any of the broken pieces made it my way.

There!
About two feet from my leg is a piece that will be perfect. Now I just need to get to it. Checking to see how my new friend is, I notice that she’s now curled up next to my couch, rocking and slamming her fist against her head. Her other hand still holds the hammer tight, banging it over and over against the floor.

I move slowly, using my legs to inch closer and closer, only moving small inches at a time. I get where I can reach it as I sit on my ass, so I carefully and quietly as possible bring one of my legs out from under me, shifting on my ass to get my other leg out. My whole body is burning from the use of muscles I haven’t used in months.

When I get settled on my ass, I look over to make sure, once again, that she isn’t paying me any attention. My fingers reach out blindly, pushing the piece of glass a few times as I fumble around. I finally get my fingers around the sharp shard and begin the process of moving back onto my knees. I don’t want her to know that I’ve moved, but more importantly, I don’t want her to have any more of a height advantage if she comes to stand over me again. At least up on my knees, I have something going for me.

Once back on my knees, I make the painful shift back over to my original position. The whole time, I busy myself with moving the glass back and forth against my bindings. I want to scream in pain each time the sharp ends jam into my skin. Either my wrists or my fingers—hell, maybe both—are cut so badly that I’m struggling to hold on to the glass in my hands.

I can feel the tape give slightly at the same time that her head snaps up and she looks me in the eyes. “It’s all your fault, you fucking whore! You tempted him. Made him touch your body. IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

I keep sawing at the tape that binds my wrists and pray that I can get it loose before it’s too late. Her eyes are starting to look wild, and I know there isn’t much time. She heaves her large bag up and starts digging around. She brings up a few baggies of little white pills until she seems satisfied with the one she has. I can’t see how many pills the bag holds, looks like maybe three or four. She dumps them all in her hand and throws them into her mouth. After bringing a bottle of water out of her bag, she dumps it over her mouth, most of it falling around her mouth and running down her neck. By the time she appears to have had enough, she is soaking wet.

“I’ve been watching! I’m always watching!” she screams and starts to charge towards me.

The hammer in her hand comes up over her head. I watch with stark terror as the hammer gets higher and higher with each step she takes towards me.

“Drop it,” I hear from just over my shoulder. The voice strong. Commanding. And in total control. “Drop the fucking hammer now or, so help me God, I will shoot you,” the voice promises.

I make another sharp dig against the tape, opening my mouth wide in a silent scream. The last thing I want to do right now is remind this chick that I’m still in the room. I rip off the remaining tape, fumbling a few times because my hands are soaked with my blood.

“Drop it,” the voice reminds.

I keep my eyes focused on Sarah Jane and her hammer. I back up against the far wall and hold my arms over my stomach, praying that I’ll feel Zac start to move soon.

Sarah Jane goes to take another step and the sudden boom of a gunshot ringing out in the confined space has me screaming out. I curl into myself as much as my belly will allow.

“Don’t fucking move! This time I won’t be as nice and I’ll aim for something more important than your shoulder.”

“I’ve been watching. I’m always watching! You don’t know what this whore took from me!”

“And I don’t fucking care.” I shiver at the coldness that’s come over the voice to my side. “One more time—drop the hammer.”

“I’m going to bash you to pieces when I finish with the whore,” Sarah Jane promises.

I hear her snarl and what sounds like her feet shuffling forward. I close my eyes tight and brace for whatever happens next, making sure that my arms are still covering as much of my stomach as possible.

I scream when I hear another shot and start to cry uncontrollably. I scream and cry—beg and plead. It isn’t until minutes later, when I feel a small, warm hand lightly touch my shoulder, that I dare to look up.