Chapter 18
LORNA
I giggle with happiness as he carries me back inside the house and heads straight for the shower in our en-suite. As he presses my back against the tiles I stare at the man who will soon be my husband and wonder how so much could have changed, so fast.
“Tell me what you're thinking.” He smiles as he slowly edges his cock back inside me, making me forget how to form words so I moan, instead.
“Come on, tell me what's going on in that head, Lorna.”
“I’m thinking that the line between love and hate is really thin,” I admit. “That, maybe, all those thoughts and feelings I had for you before weren’t hate at all, just frustration.”
I never could understand why it was him I thought about when I lay in bed. Even all those years ago, Nic Conte would usually be my final thought of the day.
“You're right.” He slides his hand over my head as the water cascades around us. “Well, I hope you are,” he laughs, gripping my thigh and fucking me deeper. My moans get louder and I suddenly feel his hand slam over my mouth.
“We’ve got company,” he whispers, gesturing his eyes toward the door. And sure enough, when I listen carefully, I can hear Cass chatting to the boys.
She sounds drunk but that’s hardly surprising, she was tipsy before she left here.
“Don’t stop.” I wiggle my hips against him, clinging my arms tighter around his neck as he thrusts long, hard strokes that loosen all the knots in my stomach and make me scream against his hand.
“Fuck, I’m going to come.” He squeezes my thigh and growls in my ear.
“You want me to come in this pussy, baby?” His breathing gets heavier, the same way it always does when he’s close.
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling our baby’s tiny movements flutter inside me.
“I wish you could feel this.” I take his hand and place it over my lower stomach. I love it when he touches me there.
“Fuck!” His mouth drops open, and he looks down at his hand as he spills himself inside me. “You feel good…. So fucking good. I’m going to love being your husband.” He looks back up at me and grazes my bottom lip through his teeth.
“Nic.” I know it’s late but I shake him awake anyway.
“What's wrong, baby?” He sounds all sleepy and groggy. “You want me to go out there and tell those assholes to keep it down.”
“No, it’s not them, they went quiet over an hour ago. Something just doesn’t feel right.” I can’t explain what it is but I’ve got a real uneasy feeling.
Nic bolts upright, turns on the lamp, and drags the covers off me.
“Are you having contractions? Because if it’s the Braxton Hicks ones, they are perfectly normal.” It sure doesn’t look as if they’re normal from the way he’s panicking.
“It’s not the baby.” I shake my head and put his mind at rest. “I just…I don’t know what it is.” I’m not going to admit that I just dreamed about my father, or that I’m worried sick about him. It’ll open up a conversation that I really don’t want to have.
“So, you’re hungry.” He sighs with relief.
“I don’t know, maybe.” I shrug, feeling awful for waking him up over nothing.
“What are you feeling? Ice cream?… Cookie dough? How about some watermelon?” He points at me and smiles as he drags himself out of bed and slides into some shorts.
“All of that sounds great. But you don’t have to get it for me.” I bite my bottom lip so he knows that I feel guilty. Food seems to be the cure to everything these days and there's no way I could go back to sleep.
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” He leans across the mattress to kiss me, then lowers his head to give the baby a kiss too. “I swear if you’re asleep when I get back?—“
“You’ll do what?” I challenge him, leaning back and rubbing a circle around my swollen belly, it’s a guaranteed get-out-of-jail-free card.
“I’ll probably just put the ice cream in the freezer.” He looks up at the ceiling and kisses me again before he leaves.
The time he’s gone ticks by slowly. I know that because I lie on my side staring at the old, antique clock that's on the bedside cabinet, watching its hands move. I figure it must be precious to Cass’s aunt because it doesn’t fit in with the rest of the decor, everything else here is so modern and up-to-date.
I still can’t put my finger on what’s been keeping me awake, maybe insomnia is the latest pregnancy symptom I get to add to the ever-growing list. Maybe it’s my dream, or that my mind is busy with the excitement of tonight’s events. Me and Nic came straight to bed after our shower, so I still haven’t shared the news of our engagement with my friends. I wonder how they’ll react.
“Do you think mummy’s crazy for agreeing to marry daddy?” I look down and talk softly to my stomach, twisting the ring on my finger as I smile to myself. I’ve never been in love before so I have nothing to compare my feelings for Nic against.
What I do know is that I really want to be his wife. I want to feel more of his babies wriggle inside me the way this one is doing, right now, and I’m figuring that those wriggles mean our little one agrees that I made the right choice.
I lie for longer, thinking about white dresses and table decorations and when I hear a rattling at the door, I jump when I see a man that looks just like my father tapping frantically on the glass.
“Dad?” I leap out of bed, wearing just Nic’s tee, and swing the door open.
“How did you–”
“No time, I have to get you out of here.” He grips my hand and starts forcefully dragging me out the door, seeming to ignore the fact I’m hardly dressed.
“Wait, Dad, you don’t look well.” He’s lost weight since I last saw him, his grey hair has grown so long that it flops over his face and he has a full, bushy beard.
“Lorna, you have to do as I say and come with me. You're in danger.” He’s not taking no for an answer and after he manages to drag me halfway onto the deck, I manage to find enough strength to bring us to a halt.
“Dad!” I yell at him. “Pull yourself together and tell me what this is about.” My voice comes out surprisingly firm.
“I can’t leave you here, not with him, he’s too dangerous. He–” I hear a tiny whizz speed through the air, and before I can figure out what it is, my father’s head explodes right in front of me. I stay static, screaming at the top of my lungs as his hand slides from my arm. Looking down my body I see blood all over me and my screams turn silent as I fall to my knees. I can feel his blood dripping off my face, it’s all over my hands and seeping through Nic’s tee. I look at the blown-out brains that are scattered all over the decking and I grip at my hair.
“ Lorna? ” Nic drops the bag he’s carrying as he rushes through the side gate and kneels beside me.
“ Fuck , what happened?” He’s frantically checking me over for injury, covering my body with his as he drags me back on my feet and attempts to get me inside.
“My dad, he was here… he was talking to me.. and then…and then, he was shot.” Suddenly it occurs to me that whoever did this is still out there and my eyes search around the beach as Nic forces me all the way inside, shuts the doors, and rips the curtains closed.
“Get over in that corner away from the window,” he orders but I stand still, dripping in blood and trembling uncontrollably.
“You can’t leave him out there.” I shake my head as I go over and over what just happened, in my head. My dad was here, he came looking for me, thinking I was in danger. Who would have shot him?
“Baby, you have to tell me what happened.” Nic drags me to the corner of the room and tries to calm me down by stroking my hair, seeing the blood transfer from me onto his hands makes it even harder for me to get my words out.
“My dad, Nic. He was tapping at the glass, he wanted me to go with him and then he was…. He’s dead.” My lips quiver as I try to explain.
“It’s okay. I’m here.” Nic drags me onto his chest and holds me tight, kissing the top of my head despite all the blood I’m covered in.
“Just breathe for me, you have to keep breathing, Lorna.” He takes out his phone and presses it to his ear.
“Dario, we’ve got a problem. I need to catch the jet back home with Lorna, right now. Can we meet at your place?” I don’t hear what Dario says back but I assume he must have questions.
“Doyle was here, and he’s dead,” he explains, hanging up the phone and turning his attention back to me.
“Whose Doyle?” I ask as he grabs my case and starts throwing my things inside it.
A loud scream comes from outside and when Cass bursts through the glass doors, tangling herself up in the curtains, she’s quickly followed by the boys, who both look white.
“There’s a dead man out there!” Cass covers her mouth with her hands.
“Looks like he’s been shot in the fucking head.” Wes glances back out the doors toward the body of my father.
“He was.” Nic continues to get mine and his stuff together.
“I never heard any gunshots.” Jonah looks confused as well as shaken.
“That’s because he was killed by a professional.” Nic is still in full action- mode as he explains, and when he pulls a gun out from his own bag, all my friends look unnerved.
“What the hell is going on?” Cass asks, sounding scared.
“You think the hit was meant for you? I mean that’s some real James Bond shit. Who even is that guy?” Wes asks
“My father.” I hear my own voice come out weak and feeble. Nic wraps his arm around me as he leads me toward the hall and stops in front of Cass.
“Call this number, a guy who can deal with this will be here in less than an hour. Do not call the police,” he tells her firmly, pointing his finger in her face.
“This is a murder scene, I have to call the police,” she argues back.
“It won’t be once our guy’s finished. Call him then go to one of the bedrooms and lock the door. I’ll send the jet back for you in a few hours when I know this place is cleaned up.” He pulls another gun from his bag and glances between Wes and Jonah.
“ Fuck. ” He shakes his head before reluctantly handing it to Wes.
“Wait, you're trusting him to protect us?” Cass looks confused.
“He’s the only one ballsy enough to shoot it,” Nic tells her, and when me and Cass both look at Jonah, he shrugs his shoulders and offers no argument.
“You shoot one of these before?” Nic checks.
“Does he look like he has?” Cass points out. “And why do we have to stay here with the body?”
“You flick the safety off first, point, and pull the trigger. Make sure you get a good aim,” Nic explains to Wes before turning to Cass.
“I need you to stay here because that man was Lorna’s father and, whoever did this to him, might want to hurt her too. Someone has to stay here and make sure this gets cleaned up, and someone has to make my girl safe. I don’t trust anyone but myself to do the latter,” he explains.
“I don’t work for the Mafia, Nic.” Cass looks at him firmly. “I don’t have to clean up your problem.”
“This isn’t his problem, Cass. It’s mine,” I speak up, even though I feel the walls closing in on me. “He came here to find me.” I start to sob and when Nic places his arm around me, I notice the way Cass looks up at him and nods.
“And what exactly am I shooting at?” Wes asks before we make it out the door.
“It’s just a precaution, whoever did this is probably long gone,” Nic assures him.
“But?” Jonah adds as if he can sense Nic isn’t finished.
“But, if they aren’t, you shoot at whatever comes at you,” Nic tells him, gripping both our bags in one hand and wrapping the hand, he’s holding his gun in, around my shoulder as he leads me out of the house.