“I should wait, right? To tell anyone?” My heart races at the thought of telling Malcom. I can’t tell which feeling is stronger—the fear of failure, or the excitement of success. “How long?”
“You’re at about six weeks now, based on your last cycle and the intercourse. Thirteen weeks is a good marker. The first trimester is generally when we see the most danger of miscarriage. But you can let your partner know now, if you’d like. There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic, and you’re very healthy.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I squeeze Lilly’s hand. “I can’t believe you,” she says, shaking her head in wonder. “You’re going to be a mom, Em.” She kisses my cheek, and I hold her close.
“I want to wait, just to be sure,” I say, to the doctor, and Lilly—and to me. Despite Malcom’s faith, I don’t want to fail him. I want to give him the world. And I won’t give him false hope.
I gaze at the monitor as the doctor leaves, Lilly rambling on about her cousin’s pregnancy and baby names and all the old wives’ tales her family has passed down. But all I can see are those three little dots, and the future that has finally begun to unfurl before me.
No—inside of me.
18
Malcom
“They should be back by now.” I pace the entry, checking the drive. Night is falling, black and bleak. The spine of Blicktenner pricks the hills. “No word from Pete?”
Callie is pale as a ghost. She shakes her head.
That’s it. “I have to go.”
Callie bites her lip. “Mr. Walker. You don’t think…”
I don’t need to hear the rest of her question to know what she’s asking—do I think that Emma ran away? My stomach clenches. Was it all a ruse? Was she playing me? Could she feign her attraction, her interest, her sympathy—her love?
“No.” I don’t believe it. I won’t. Maybe I’m foolish to begin dropping my walls. Maybe she’s a crack in my armor. But I don’t care. Today, what happened between us, when I told her she was free and she told me she didn’t want to go—that was real. It had to be real. “I’m going after her. I’ll call in some backup to look after the place, in case anyone comes looking or they make it back.”
Callie nods gravely. Jen is a shadow behind her in the kitchen. I sent Pete and both of his guards to take Emma and Lilly to the doctor. That was hours ago.
What the fuck could have happened to them?
I’m getting into the car when I find out. I reverse down the drive, thunder breaking in the mountains and a lashing, icy rain kicking up, despite the warm weather. Clarence’s ID pops up on the screen.
No.
“Hey, baby brother. How’s it going?”
I jerk the wheel, zipping onto the road, too fast. Rain kicks up off the tires in blurry arcs. “Get to the fucking point, Clarence. I’m busy.”
“Yeah. Bet you are.”
Cold dread blooms, a cancer beneath my ribs. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“You’re good, man. Really good. I’m impressed. I really racked my brain, you know? But you haven’t left many girlfriends in your wake, have you, Malcom?”
No no no no.My heart leaps into my throat. I push the pedal down harder, gunning into the coming darkness.
“A lot of fucks though. You’ve never been shy with that cock of yours, have you. But actual, eligible, respectable women? God, I couldn’t think of any. ‘Cause you hid them, didn’t you? Well—her.”
I slam on the brakes, jerking into a shoulder so hard the wheels burn out. When I can finally speak, I bite out the words, barely able to keep my shit together. “Where is she?”
“Hey, calm down, man. Easy. She’s fine. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” Static in the speaker, and then, like hell freezing over—her voice.
“Malcom,” she whispers. Her voice is raw with terror. “They killed—they killed Pete.” Her voice breaks, thick with tears. Every nerve ending in my body goes dead. I am numb. A soldier. A statue. “I don’t know what they did to the others, or to Lilly. Oh, God…”
“I am coming for you,” I say. My voice sounds far away, cut from steel. Utterly unfeeling. “Don’t be afraid, Emma. I will be there soon.”
“No,” she says, very softly. Almost serene. “Malcom. He’ll…he’s going to kill you.”
