Long Ride The Slayers MC #3) (11 page)

And it
kills
me.

Literally
kills
me as my heart squeezes tight and stops beating knowing she’s crying. Baby
doesn’t
cry. Not even when she was in the throes of labor, pushing, and cursing at me for knockin’ her up and makin’ her have to feel the pain she was in. Not even when she sat in the courtroom listening to the charges, or when she stood up with me when it was time to hear the judge give the sentence I’d taken a plea deal for. She didn’t cry then, but she’s crying now.

She didn’t ask me to follow and I’m positive she doesn’t want me to, but I have to. This shit can’t fester any more than it already is. This is the kind of toxic crap that can ruin a marriage, that can taint it to the point it can’t ever recover.

I leave the fire pit to burn itself out and toss my empty beer bottle into the garbage can on the side of the house near the kitchen door.

She’s standing at the sink with her back turned to me, scrubbing furiously at something. The baby monitor is quiet and the little screen shows that Lu is keeping still, sleeping, unaware of the firework show that would probably wake any other person up.

My boots make thick sounds on the wooden floor, and I know she hears me, that I’m behind her. She doesn’t say anything, though. The whooshing from the water coming out of the faucet is heavy, masking any sounds she’s making and I can’t tell if she’s still crying or not.

I don’t know what to do, how to make this right.

I don’t know
if
there’s even a way to make this right.

I just know I have to try.

“We gotta talk about this, Baby. You know it’s true.” I tower above her, standing behind her hips, but not touching.

Her shoulders rise and falls as she shakes the water free from the pot she’s just cleaned and sets it down on the drying mat.

“Baby. Stop.” I still her arms and turn her around to face me. “Talk to me.”

Her beautiful brown eyes roll. “What are you talking about? I talk to you all the time.”

Baby’s not the mushy type. She’s more of the “I’ll just deal with it” kind. Still, there’re things that can’t be dealt with if they’re not said.

“Yeah? Then talk to me about shit that
really
matters. Not about stupid crap like what you’re making for dinner, or what time you’re going out and coming home, or what bill needs to be paid.”

Her eyes turn hard. “Stupid shit? You think that’s all
stupid
shit?” She’s revving up and not in the way I like. “That
shit
is called real life, not like you’d know.”

Here we go.

I don’t say anything. I know better not to. She needs to get this out.

“
I’m
the one that was left here to worry about making dinner.
I’m
the one who had to worry about making sure the bills got paid.
Me
. Not you. So, I’m sorry that all this “
stupid shit”
is
inconveniencing
you. Try living with it for a year by yourself and then tell me how you feel about it.” She pushes me away, hard, and stalks away.

Now, most men would know better than to follow their woman at a time like this. Especially one like mine. But, I can tell she’s not done, and if the least I can do for her right now is be a punching bag for her to get it all out, then that’s what I’m gonna do.

Her small body turns sharply at the wooden railing to the foot of the stairs and she steps up but turns with her finger pointing, having thought of something else to say. “You know, it’s not like I expect a “
thank-you
” or anything, oh, I don’t know, for carrying around
your
child, or having to go to every
single
one of those appointments to sit in the waiting room and watch everyone else there with their husband. I’m not even asking for a damn “thank-you” for bearing that little girl so you can hold her and smile at her and have her look up at you the way she does when
I
was the one who did everything for her this past year. All by myself. Alone. And it doesn’t seem to fucking matter! It doesn’t
count
!”

The rage in her voice is causing it to shake.

“You come home and it’s supposed to be like nothing happened? Well guess what? Something
did
happen! I fucking manned up and did everything that needed to be done while you were gone. So, no, don’t bother to “
thank
” me, but don’t you dare call it “
stupid shit
” again! You hear me, Stitch? ‘Cause I swear if you do, you’re gonna be runnin’ back to that jail cell looking for protection from me.”

The baby wails and I can’t help but wonder what took her so long. Baby’s been hollering like a banshee for minutes now.

“And
you
can take care of her tonight. While you’re there you might as well sleep in the nursery too, because you’re
not
sleeping in our bed, I can promise you that. You even try it and I’ll cut your damn balls off myself. Then
I
’ll be the one thrown in the pen and you can see what’s it’s like on your own.” Her footsteps are heavy, stomping on each stair until she’s reached the top.

I wait until I know she’s rounded the corner and hear our bedroom door slam shut until I know it’s safe to proceed.

In all fairness, that wasn’t even
half
as bad as I thought it’d be, as I’d been imagining it would be, this last year being away from her. I know I deserved it. Hell, I deserve more, but that don’t mean I’m gonna go lookin’ for it right now.

Baby’s a tough chick. If she says she’ll cut my balls off she means it. I’m gonna give her some space tonight and feel it out in the morning. Hopefully my balls will still be intact.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DAWSON

I’m a good liar.

I keep telling myself that, over and over again.

If I have to, I can lie my way out of this, although I’ve never even told Angel a lie.

“You don’t get within a hundred feet of them, you hear me?” I make sure both Tina and Gryff understand.

They nod in unison.

This is gonna backfire, I just
know
it.

“You got it, D. After we see them, I’ll drive Tina back to Canyon Ridge myself,” my V.P. tries to reassure me.

It doesn’t work. “You make sure you text me first so I can get the papers signed before you take off.”

These are very simple instructions. Even a fucking monkey would be able to get this right. Unfortunately, I’m not dealing with a monkey even though I wish I were. I’m dealing with Gryff, who’s got his dick in a tizzy over the very chick he’s supposed to keep an eye on.

The screen of my phone lights up again with another text from Angel wondering where I am. “I gotta go. Text me if you have any problems. But…
don’t
have any problems, you feel me?”

Gryff silently agrees.

The carnival is packed, with barely enough room to squeeze through the large groups bustling between attractions.

This is the time of day when this place sees the most action, right before the fireworks are set to start. The whole town comes out for that part.

“Dawson!” I hear my name being called and search to find the person responsible. I’m at least a head taller than most of the crowd so it isn’t difficult to spot Lillian, Angel’s mom, waving me down.

She’s standing next to Earl, the guy she’s been dating, sharing a huge stick of pink cotton candy between them.

“Hey, Lillian. Earl. You guys seen Molly?” I always use Angel’s given name when around her mom. Just out of respect although the woman doesn’t seem to mind her daughter’s new nickname.

A pink candy covered finger points over toward the Ferris wheel. “Over there. Sasha’s getting her face painted.”

I nod when I see the two of them giggling as whiskers are painted on Sash’s plump little cheeks, finishing off a cat theme.

“She looks just like Molly at that age. There was one Halloween where I dressed both the girls up as cats. Brings back memories…” The woman’s voice trails off and I’m sure that although the little trip down memory lane started off all well and fine, it’s left her with a pang when she realized she was also talking about the one daughter who isn’t here.

Well, actually, she
is
, but Lillian can’t know that.

A sudden sense of paranoia sets in and I decide I should probably corral Lillian together with my girls to keep from any of them bumping into Tina on their own.

“Hey,” I pretend I’ve just had an idea. “Let’s get some pictures of you guys all together. Come on.”

I look back over my shoulder as we head toward the face painting station, eager to make sure Tina is far enough away not to blow her cover.

Other than Lillian and Angel, I’m not worried about anyone else here recognizing the woman. Their small family isn’t originally from Riverdale, with Angel and her mom only having moved here for a fresh start and to get away from the douchebag drug addict that Tina decided to have a kid with so he wouldn’t try and take Sasha.

“Dawson!” Sasha jumps up in her seat and nearly causes the woman painting her face to mess the last whisker.

Angel moves to my side and wraps an arm around my waist. “Where ya been? I thought you’d be here hours ago?”

Yeah. I thought so too.

“Business,” I kiss her sticky lips. Apparently, everyone’s eating cotton candy today. Tastes good though, so I help myself to another kiss. “You guys eat supper yet?”

“All. Done.” The artist exclaims as Sasha impatiently leaves.

“We had hot dogs! And popcorn!” The little kitten reports.

I look to Angel and she shrugs her shoulders. “How could I say no?” She looks past me to the woman cleaning her paint brushes. “How much?”

“That’ll be ten dollars.”

I peel off a twenty and tell the girl to keep the change.

“Come on, let’s go ride the slide now!” Sasha takes my palm in one hand and Angel’s in the other, leading us to the tall ride with a growing line.

I wink over at Angel as Sasha struggles to try and pull us along faster.

“One.” I begin the count.

“Two,” Angel adds.

“Three!!” Sasha nearly yodels her scream, and we lift her high from each side, swinging her up off the ground. She giggles and begs for us to do it again. So we do, all the way over to the slide, higher each time until her feet are nearly dangling above her head.

“Yipee!” She calls.

I see light flashing.

“That was a good one!” Lillian calls while holding up her phone as a camera. “We’ll have to make sure we frame this one.”

I’m sure they will. My once bare walls are now covered in framed candid pictures of the three of us.

“You two go ahead. I’m gonna sit this one out,” Angel decides once we reach the front of the quick moving line.

Normally I’d ask if she was sure, but in this case, she’s not going to get an argument from me. In her condition, I’d prefer her not to climb high on a carnival ride.

“Here you go,” the attendant hands two empty burlap potato sacks over to me and gestures for us to climb the wooden stairs.

“Stand at the bottom so I can see you, Maw!” Sasha screams excitedly over the railing down to Angel as we wind our way up and around the nearly spiral staircase.

Angel throws a thumbs up sign before disappearing into the crowd.

Once we reach the top, a pimply-faced teenaged boy holds out his hand like a bar to prevent us from taking the platform until the waiting rider has pushed himself down the shoot.

“Dawson! I’m scared!” Sasha waits until now to voice her fear.

Great.

There’s no way down other than by sliding, so I’m not sure how to handle this.

The attendant looks at her, to me, and back again. “We’ve gotta keep the line moving.”

Well, actually, there
is
another way off this thing and that punk teen is about to find out when I throw his ass overboard.

“What if we go down together?” I bend down and ask Sasha. “I’ll hold you tight and you can close your eyes the whole way.”

She looks unsure. “Uhm. I guess.”

“Here,” I toss the extra potato sack over to the employee.

He barely catches it. “Actually, sir, you can’t do that. It’s against the rules. Only one person at a time.”

I ignore him. What’s he gonna do? He’s lucky if he weighs a buck twenty.

“Actually,” I correct him, “You can go screw your rules.”

I sit down and cover the bottom half of my legs in the bag and help Sasha down to my lap. She’s trembling, full of fright.

My arms wrap tightly around her. “Here we go sweetie. Close your eyes now. We’ll be down at the bottom in a second.”

“Don’t let go, Dawson!” She pleads.

“Never gonna happen, kiddo. I’ve got you.”

~*~

ANGEL

The fireworks are set to begin any minute now, with the rides quieting down as everyone comes to gather in the middle of the soccer field to watch.

Sasha has been looking forward to this all day, and has been driving me insane with her endless questions about how much longer to wait. Now that Dawson is here, I think it’s only fair
he
answers her just like I’ve had to for the last few hours.

“I’m going to go hit the little girls room before the show. Be right back.” I’m on my feet and yards away before anyone has a chance to respond.

“Angel! Wait! No!” I hear Dawson call out and turn my head to see. He’s ready to follow me, but held back by Sasha tugging his arm, not wanting him to leave and miss the show, too.

I don’t know why he’s getting all worked up. I’ll be back in two minutes, tops. I mean, I can’t help it that his kid is pressing on my bladder and making me have to go more than a damned race horse.

It’s sweet that he’s so protective and all, and I know it shouldn’t aggravate me. I mean, I realize how lucky I am. Really, I do. I’m grateful to have him here and by my side through all of this. I know some people aren’t as lucky.

Take Baby for instance. She had to do all of this alone, by herself.

I know I could if I had to, but I sure am glad I don’t.

If I have to put up with Dawson being a little overprotective and domineering, then it’s a small price to pay.

The portable toilets are all lined up in a row near the haunted house, but as I get closer, I can see the line formed and my bladder tells me I can’t wait. Ugh. If only I were a man at a time like this. All they have to do is unzip, point, and go.

“Hey Angel!” Trixie spots me. “You havin’ fun?”

I nod, cross my legs at the ankle and hug my knees close together. “Yup. Say, do you have another bathroom around here? I’m not gonna last if I have to wait on that,” I point to the line.

“Oh, hun. You don’t want to use that anyway. Especially not after a long day like this. I’m sure they’re a mess. Uno’s got our trailer parked around back. Got a bathroom in there you can use. Come on.” She’s a lifesaver.

I use all my energy to concentrate on controlling my Kegel muscles and thoughts to prevent having an embarrassing accident in front of dozens of people.

I wish I had known about their trailer the other five times I’d gone to the ladies’ room earlier. Trix is right, it wasn’t pleasant and I’m grateful I don’t have to do it again.

“See? Right there, behind the dunk tank.” Trix points beyond the carnival booths.

The gleaming white camping trailer peeks out from in between the fabric covered attraction tents.

“You’re a lifesaver, Trix!” Not being much of a runner, I didn’t think I’d be able to get much speed, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Thankfully the door is unlocked and the bathroom close to the entrance. I make it with absolutely no time to spare and take a deep sigh of relief.

The water from the tap is warm, and I lather up my fingers and hands well, knowing I’ve touched way too many germs today despite the buckets of hand sanitizer that had been used.

Relieved and refreshed, the trailer is left behind just as I hear the first firework go off. I need to get back to Dawson and Sasha before I miss too much, so I pick up the pace. Trix is visiting over by Uno, helping him dry off from the latest dunk. She looks busy and if I stop to thank them again for the use of the trailer I know I’ll miss even more of the firework display, so I wave my arm high until I catch her eye instead.

We nod to each other and I move again to return to my family.

Everyone seems to be heading in the same direction, with the same idea as me, pushing and shoving from all sides. I don’t know why, but I turn around having an overwhelming feeling wash over me that I’m being watched.

It’s not the first time.

I felt it earlier at the slides and then again while we were setting up the picnic blanket to watch the fireworks. It’s odd because there are hundreds of eyes around here tonight, so why do I feel paranoid that some of them might be on me?

It must be a hormonal thing, I convince myself. That seems to be the politically correct thing to do these days. Blame everything on pregnancy and hormones. At least that’s what my doctors seem to think.

Every little thing I mention, and they chalk it all up to being preggo. Even Cat’s started doing it. My doctor’s are starting to get fed up with office calls looking for explanations for all the little changes that are happening.

So, nowadays I do the next best thing. I call Cat. Only she’s beginning to sound just like them. I called her this morning, telling her that I think my little toe is starting to grow. Guess what she said? Yup. Pregnancy. Apparently, it can cause your feet to flatten out and look like they’re growing. Who would have thought?

I’ll bet tomorrow when I call her and tell her that I’m growing paranoid, thinking someone is following me, that she’ll say the same thing.

Regardless, I can’t shake the feeling and look behind me at least two times. That coupled with the constant moving around me of people running by and the loud noises crashing from the sky as soon as the latest firework goes off, is starting to get overwhelming. Things start to look like the inside of a dance club, with a strobe light effect every time the brightly lit sky changes color.

The screaming from the rides, the whooshing of the roller coaster as it passes by, the loud explosions in the sky up above and the quick moving of my head back and forth to check the empty space that my gut just won’t seem to ignore, is all proving to be too much.

My head begins to spin. Or is it the earth that’s spinning? The sky? Maybe all three?