Evan (Novella): 3.5 (A Carter Brother Series) (2 page)

Aaron sits back down on the stool in front of me, handing me another pint. I’ve lost count of how many drinks I’ve had since I arrived an hour ago. All I keep doing is replaying Kennedy’s words in my mind.

I’m a dad to a five month old baby.

I stared at the pictures she gave me for hours before I realised she’d gone and the sun had gone down. I called Aaron straight away and told him I needed him to meet me.

When we met up I explained everything that had happened from the moment Kennedy arrived to the moment I snapped out of my trance. We drank. We talked. We drank some more. And now I’m ready to head over to Kennedy’s and demand answers, but I don’t want to scare her. I need to know why she didn’t come sooner. What did her sister tell her about me? Fuck! My head is spinning just thinking about it all.

“Fuck, mate. I don’t know what to say.’’

“A baby. A fucking baby. I don’t even know if she wants me to take her. She said she came for answers, but what if that wasn’t about answers at all. I don’t know how to look after a baby. What if she is mine and I’m wasting more weeks until the results come in not being with her?’’ I ramble, scrubbing my hands down my face. I’m still in the clothes I left work in this afternoon. After Kennedy’s visit everything just seems to be going downhill. My mind is torn about what to do. Do I stay away until the results are in or do I go see her? It’s more time I’ll miss if I wait around, but then I don’t want to get attached to have it ripped away from me in a second.

For fuck’s sake. I thought the woman was there hitting on me or some sort of stripper the guys had hired. I wouldn’t put it past my ex work colleagues to do something like that. She looked so fucking cute all flustered and shy, staring at me like she was trying to find the first place to lick. It was the only giveaway she had given that made me think she wasn’t a stripper. Looks wise, she’s a fucking knockout.

Then she got all feisty, pushing me with her dainty finger. She’s like a little pixie fairy, all small and shit. Her fucking eyes were the colour of melted chocolate. They were deep, rich and so fucking sexy it made me want to drag her back to my room and do unspeakable things to her.

“Man, you’ll figure this shit out. It probably ain’t your kid anyway,’’ he tells me. I swear he’s had that exact speech on repeat since I told him the news. Aaron is my best mate; I’d jump in front of a bullet for him. In fact, he’d do the same for me. But when it comes to advice, he really does fucking suck.

I’d have gone to my sister but she still isn’t talking to me after the whole keeping my job a secret. I’d done it for a few reasons, but mostly it because we weren’t allowed to tell people what we do.

It also didn’t help that I could have prevented Carl from kidnapping her. I didn’t know he was going to do it, but I knew he was up to something. We were just waiting for it to go down. If I knew she was involved I would have put a stop to him before.

I’ve sent her bloke, Mason, a message tonight asking him to talk to her on my behalf. I need her now more than ever. It’s selfish of me because since I joined up with the agency I’ve done nothing but avoid anything family related. When I have seen them I’ve kept everything bottled up.

Anyway, he finally replied half an hour ago saying he’d talk to her for me, but I needed to give her time.

Never thought I’d let my little sister date a fucker like him. The lad has slept with more people than the entire police force in my department put together. He’s a fucking animal. Or he was. I’ve been keeping an eye on him when he’s not with Denny and, so far, the lad doesn’t even blink in another girl’s direction.

It’s a fucking miracle after the rumours I’ve heard about him.

My sister, though, she’s a game changer. She’s kind, sweet, loving, and doesn’t want to change you. All she wants is honesty, love, and commitment. So I can see why Mason only sees her. She’s once in a life time kind of girl.

“I don’t fucking know,’’ I groan, my thoughts directing back to Kennedy and the little girl.
My
little girl. There was something in the way Kennedy looked at me, the way she spoke about Imogen, that has me believing the kid is mine. A strong feeling overwhelmed me when she announced I had a daughter. It rocked through my body and I just knew. I don’t fucking know. For all I know the woman could be just like her slut of a sister. She most likely is. But remembering the way she looked, dressed and spoke, I know immediately it’s the pissed off side of me talking. She’s nothing like her sister.

Oh well! The tests will be done and I’ll finally know the answers that can put my mind at rest. A part of me hopes that she is mine. I don’t want to imagine who her father is otherwise. I knew most of the blokes at that unit through my job, getting to know them, and let’s just say, they are the worst of the worst. That little girl deserves more than a father and a mother coming from a world like that.

“Well, drink up. Everyone just walked in,’’ Aaron announces and I straighten on my stool.

“It’s supposed to be a fucking surprise. We said eight, dipshit,’’ William, my old boss, says, glaring at Aaron. I chuckle but it’s forced. I’m not going to be much fun tonight, but I know the guys wanted to give me a proper send off, so for them I can fake it and drink until my mind is blank.

“He called me up,’’ Aaron defends with his hands in the air.

“Useless fucking shit,’’ William mutters, then steps out the way when Dave walks over with a tray of Jagerbombs.

“Shots!’’ he yells and I wince. The noise was loud enough in here already but now that these bunch of shits have joined the party, it’s turned to deafening.

Fuck, if that isn’t a clear sign that I’m getting old, I don’t know what is.

Just as I thought the night was getting better the fucking reception slut walks in with one of the new lads. Mikey I think I heard his name was. He’s hanging onto her every word. Poor fucker is going to regret it once he gets to know her better, or worse, sleeps with her.

Aaron notices where I’m looking and groans.

“I swear, I didn’t invite the bitch, but if it helps, I’ll put twenty on it not lasting another hour. The poor fuck looks miserable.’’

I look again and notice he does look fucking miserable. He’s eyeing up one of the women that have been standing up by the bar all night.

“Half an hour and make it thirty,’’ I laugh, shaking his hand. He laughs with me, and we pick up our shots, ignoring Dave as he counts down from three.

Does he think we’re at school?

When another tray of shots appears I know I’m in for a long night. Kidneys, may you rest in peace, my friends.

The night ventures on and it’s one in the morning when the guys finally carry me out of the pub.

“I’m never drinking again,’’ I whine, my words slurring.

“That’s what you said the last time we went out,’’ one of the guys laughs, but I don’t find it funny. The room is spinning, or I’m spinning. I don’t know. I’m too wasted to tell the difference.

“Let’s get you home,’’ William rumbles, his voice sounding more slurred than mine. I’m shoved into a taxi and Aaron hops in beside me giving the driver my address.

I must have fallen asleep because I’m shaken awake when we pull up outside mine. “You kipping the night?’’ I ask Aaron.

“Yeah, mate. Wouldn’t want you to choke on your own vomit now, would we?”

“If he’ sick in my cab, you pay,’’ the driver shouts, his voice foreign.

“I’m kidding.’’

“He’s not. I feel green,’’ I joke, but end up choking.

“You, you get out my cab,’’ I hear yelled as Aaron pulls me out. The door slams behind us and the taxi speeds away, the tyres screeching on the tarmac.

“Ha, joke’s on that fucker. We haven’t paid,’’ Aaron hoots.

“Ha, take that, ya fucker,’’ I shout down the empty road. The taxi isn’t even in sight but I don’t care.

“Come on, Rocky,’’ Aaron teases.

He drags me up the path at the same time Lexi opens her door. “Is everything okay?’’ she asks timidly, her eyes scanning Aaron up and down. They’ve met a few times so I’m used to this interaction, but fuck me if I don’t roll my eyes.

“Peachy, go back to Steve,’’ I tell her, snarky, wondering why her life got so perfect while mine got so fucked up.

“Um, it’s Simon and we broke up,’’ she tells me softly. I feel like shit. Even if Steve was a jerk, she doesn’t deserve this. We walk through the front door, me wobbling on my feet.

“Sorry. The guy was a dick.’’

“Yeah, he was,’’ she smiles, looking at me with concern.

“Well, I’m going to bed. You two play nice,’’ I scowl and then walk head first into the doorframe, banging my head across it.

“Fuck!’’ I roar. Shit, that fucking hurt. “Who put that there?”

“Careful, mate,’’ Aaron laughs and I turn to him, giving him a hateful glare. I move through the bungalow, down the corridor and into my bedroom.

The results need to hurry the fuck up and arrive already. I need to know. And I need to know now. Otherwise I’ll end up being this drunk every night until they arrive.

I hear voices coming from down the hall and I groan into my pillow. Looks like Lexi isn’t leaving any time soon. The door to my room opens, letting light in, and a deep chuckle echoes around the room.

“Fuck off,’’ I grumble, my face shoved into the pillow. The fucker turns the light on, and I know it’s on fucking purpose.

Whatever he must see must satisfy him because the next thing I hear is him clicking the light off and shutting the door behind him. I hear him address Lexi, asking if she wants to stay for some coffee.

My head is spinning but I manage to drown out their yapping and end up drifting into a deep sleep, my thoughts consumed by a baby I haven’t even met.

“Come on, baby girl, go to sleep,’’ I coo softly in Imogen’s ear. She’s started teething. No matter how many freaking text books I’ve read or looked up online for ways to help her, nothing is fudging working. My heart is literally breaking hearing her in so much pain. It’s only taken me five months to decipher her cries. Each cry sounds different and are for different things.

She cries loudly in my arms. The chunky, healthy bundle is pulling at her now red ears. I sit down in the rocking chair and take her temperature.

Just a little over the normal temperature, but it still doesn’t ease my worry.

Knowing I’m not going to be able to get much sleep this morning I start rocking backwards and forwards. My mouth opens and the lyrics to
Meghan Trainor’s  All About That Bass,
rolls out. It’s the first song to pop into my head. Most likely because it’s always playing on the radio.

After the first verse she starts to settle. Her tiny but chubby fist is shoved into her mouth, the other still holding onto her ear.

Thankfully, it’s not long before she’s asleep and I place her gently down in her cot. I’m glad I don’t have to work this week. I had some annual leave left. It felt right using it with Imogen being so poorly. I can’t afford to have any unpaid time off.

Tip toeing out of her tiny room so I don’t wake her, I walk back through my small, two bedroomed flat to the kitchen. The place isn’t ideal but it’s the only place I could find that was affordable.

It’s located in one of the roughest places in town and I do hate it here. I’m never able to get a full night’s sleep due to loud music coming from other floors, or because some couple decided tonight’s the night to get into a fight. Imagine that echoing around your flat at God knows what time of night.

Loud banging at the door has me jumping out of my skin. I quickly drop the washing-up liquid and run to the door before they can wake up Imogen.

If it’s my creepy neighbour from along the hall I’m going to cry. I’m pretty sure he does drugs and, I swear, when he
conveniently
knocks on my door it’s always for sugar. I’m pretty sure it’s really to see if I have any valuables lying around that he can rob when I’m not here. Luckily, I’m not one for splurging out on things. I have second-hand goods from charity shops and keep my mother’s jewellery locked away in a box under my bed.

“I don’t have any spare-” I’m cut off when a large hand wraps around my throat, pushing me back into the flat. He’s squeezing so tight I don’t have a chance to breathe in and scream. The door slams and my first thought is hoping Imogen doesn’t wake up. I don’t want whoever this is to know she’s here. I’m shaking uncontrollably as I claw at the man’s wrists.

My eyes open wide when the scruff of a man slams me back against the door, his eyes red and furious.

“Where’s my fucking money, bitch?’’

I try to talk, I really do, but his hand is cutting off any air I had left in my lungs. I frantically claw at his wrists to get him to loosen his hold, but it never happens. Wheezing noises start to leave my mouth causing me to panic.

What the hell is happening? Who is he? What money? Does he think I’m someone else? I look around, for what I don’t know. It’s not like I can get away from him to get anything. His hold is too strong.

My vision begins to blur just as he drops me to the floor. I stumble back a few steps, my mind frozen. I don’t even have a chance to think, to speak, or to catch my breath before his hand clashes with my cheek. Pain radiates down my face, tears finally falling free, and I cry out in pain.

“Please,’’ I beg, for what I’m not sure. I just hope he understands I’m not who he thinks I am.

“Get the fuck up, bitch,’’ he sneers.

When I don’t move fast enough he grips me by the hair, lifting me and pinning me back to the door. The force of my hip hitting the door handle has me screaming out in pain.

His fingers dig into my cheeks making the throbbing from his backhand throb harder. It feels like I have an orange stuck on the inside of my skin, it feels that tight and swollen. The pain is something I’ve never felt before.

Never in my life have I been so scared. My whole body is shaking with it. How could someone do this to someone else?

“Please, I don’t know who you are,’’ I cry out pleading with him, but it ends up sounding like a squeak instead.

“Your sister owes me three grand. I want my fucking money, bitch.’’

What? Oh my Lord. The letters. A few months after my sister died I started receiving letters demanding money. I just thought it was for one of the neighbours and, because it wasn’t addressed to anyone, I just threw them out. I didn’t even think much of it. I was too worried about Imogen being in the hospital.

“She’s...  She’s dead,’’ I wheeze out, my voice hitching.

“I know that, you fucking whore. You’re my payment. You were what your sister put down as, shall we call it, a
guarantor
,’’ he snickers.

“I don’t understand,’’ I wheeze through. I don’t have that kind of money. I live by my monthly cheques and that’s it. I don’t have any kind of savings anywhere.

“Let me put this straight. You’re basically fucking screwed if you don’t pay up.’’

I look into his dead eyes and can feel he’s deadly serious. What did I ever do to deserve this and why would my
sister
do this to me? Before I have a chance to explain the situation he throws me to the floor with force and I land on the coffee table, the cheap wood breaking under my weight.

Coughing, I roll onto my side only for his boot to land in my side.

“Please stop. Someone, help!’’ I scream out, my body shaking with more than fear. A sickening feeling overcomes my body and by the time he’s finished landing another two blows to my stomach, he bends down on one knee, his face only inches away from mine.

I’m completely out of breath and unbearable pain spreads through my entire body. A horrible, tight, cramping sensation pulses in my stomach and I have to swallow back bile.

“If I don’t get that money in a month that little brat in there is going to get fucking sold to the highest bidder,’’ he sneers and before I can fight back, or get to Imogen, or even plead with him, his fist lands in my face, my whole world turning black.

Sometime later I awaken by gentle hands shaking my shoulders. My whole body is throbbing; an agonising pain pounding hits through my body.

I slowly open my eyes, and when I see my neighbour who lives across the hall, everything that happened slowly slams into me at once.

“Imogen,’’ I cry out, hearing her crying.

“Don’t move. I’ll get her, Kennedy.’’

I couldn’t be more thankful for Melanie than I am in this moment. Not only has she been the only neighbour I get on with, but she’s also a lifesaver and a friend.

She walks in with Imogen still crying in her arms. When I put my hands up for her I cry out in pain.

“I’ve got her. What happened? Shall I call the police?’’ she asks concerned, her words rushed.

I shake my head not knowing what to do or say. Will it make it worse going to the police? Of course it will. And what can the police do? It’s not like I have proof. Hell, I don’t even know who that man is. He could be anyone. All I know is that my sister was connected to him.

“What are you doing here?’’ I ask, trying hard to keep the tears at bay. Melanie said she was leaving for a few weeks for a job. She isn’t meant to be back for another week.

“I’ll tell you later. I came over because this must have come during the week,’’ she says, handing me a white envelope. I take it out of her hand. I’m just about to throw it to the side and take a still crying Imogen from Mel, when the top of the envelope catches my attention.

“Oh my,’’ I gasp, tearing the letter open. My eyes flicker over numbers, words, and it isn’t until I get to the centre page that the words I have been hoping for are written in bold letters.

“What is it?’’ Melanie asks concerned, still rocking a crying Imogen in her arms.

“He’s her dad,’’ I gasp, then burst into tears. He can protect her. But then I will lose her. The thought has bile rising in my throat. What if he doesn’t want her? What am I going to do?

I hold my hands up, my tears running freely down my face. I need her. I just need to hold her, to make sure she’s okay. I don’t know if he touched her. My sore body screams in agony when Mel finally relents and hands me Imogen. I finally have her in my arms. As soon as I breathe in her baby scent I burst into a fit of more tears.

My tears only make Imogen cry harder and, even with my sore body, I try my hardest to soothe her.

“It’s okay, baby. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll protect you, I promise,’’ I promise her. And I will. Even if it means I have to give her up to her father in order to do that. It will kill me, but I will.

“What is going on, Kennedy?’’ Melanie asks, sitting down next to me. “Who did this to you? I ran to get some ice from mine before you came through, but it seems neither of us have anything frozen.’’ Her tone sounds light, but I can hear the underlying worry hidden beneath.

“Someone... Someone attacked me. He wants money. Money I don’t have. He’s going to take Imogen if I don’t,’’ I cry. The same paralysing fear, thinking about that man hits me once again and I begin to shake.

“Has this got anything to do with your sister?’’ Melanie asks. She knows all about my sister and my family. I don’t know what I would have done without her help when I first got Imogen home. Mel has two kids of her own that are fully grown and now moved out and have their own families. Her advice has been a godsend.

“I’m scared,’’ I admit, crying. “Shush, Imogen. I promise everything is going to be okay,’’ I tell her, hoping to God I’m right.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAS HAPPENED HERE?’’ is roared. My whole body locks up tight, thinking
he
has come back to finish what he started. When my fear filled eyes look up, I’m hit with something much, much worse.

“Evan,’’ I breathe.