Chapter Two Rey
Going home to my apartment after a long day of work has always been one of my favorite things.
The cool tones of silver, blue, and aquamarine calm me, while the view of the city and Lake Panchartrain through the floor-to-ceiling windows gives me refuge from the craziness of the world outside.
Today, the view and the soothing colors have their work cut out for them.
After dropping my briefcase on my desk, I move into my bedroom and strip. What I really want to do is soak in a hot bath and drink a big glass of wine. However, the tiny and unexpected life growing inside of me negates my ability to do either. Instead, I strip and head for the shower.
The hot water feels good as it washes away the remains of the day. My mind is in overdrive. Wrestling my brain into order, I relive the day in chronological order.
My morning started in the doctor’s office, where I discovered I was pregnant.
Talk about a shock. I knew I’d been feeling queasy.
As a creature of habit who rarely deviates from my regular diet, I couldn’t understand why my stomach would suddenly be acting out of sorts.
I couldn’t blame it on stress, because I usually thrive on stress.
When I finally accepted that something wasn’t right, I went to my doctor.
She gave me the shock of my life by telling me I was six weeks pregnant.
How the hell did that happen? Okay, I know how it happened.
But, seriously, how did it happen? I was always careful with birth control.
I took the pill religiously and insisted my partner use a condom.
Thoughts of the sperm donor have me scowling.
The father of my baby has to be my ex. He’s the only man I’ve had sex with in months.
Just when I thought I was finally done with that asshole, this happens.
I’m going to have to tell him someday. Shaking my head, I purposely put thoughts of the future aside.
I’ll deal with him later, once I figure out what I’m going to do about the pregnancy.
My first thought was to get an abortion.
Having a baby on my own doesn't align with my goals. I know that sounds callous, but it is the brutal truth. I’m not ready to have a baby.
That’s what my mind screams at me, but my heart whispers something different.
Part of me is prepared to welcome this unexpected gift into my life.
It’s why I made a detour to the nearest hospital so I could take a tour of the obstetrics department.
Watching the nurses swaddle and cuddle the babies had my arms aching to hold my own child.
Who knew that my impromptu visit would put my unborn child and me at risk?
After leaving the hospital, my car broke down only a few blocks away.
I’m frustrated because I just had maintenance done on it.
Pulling out my phone, I plan on calling my brother, Max, for assistance, but then a van pulls over in front of me.
Clutching the phone, I relax when I see two doctors exit the vehicle.
I let my guard down, which turned out to be a mistake.
The next thing I know, I’m trapped in a mechanic’s pit with two extremely pregnant women.
Both look ready to give birth at any second.
I try to protect them, but I don’t know what I’m protecting them from.
The sound of two men speaking drifts into our cell, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
I have no doubt they are the same two men who grabbed me.
Who are they and what do they want? After what felt like hours, but was likely much less than that, we were free.
The group of bikers who rescued us was just as surprising as the men who initially grabbed us.
They looked like men we should fear, but the women they brought with them assured us that they were the good guys.
Once Olivia explained how they came to rescue us, the tension eased, until their leader, Hex, refused to call the cops.
When he explained how the kidnappers had cops in their pockets, I offered them a solution.
My brother Max is a cop, and he’s not in anyone’s pocket.
Discovering that one member of the Demon Dawgs is the son of a client.
I gave them more leeway and trust than I usually would.
I can admit I feel guilty about not calling Max immediately, but with the image of the broken woman who had been used brutally by those assholes, I can admit I hoped the Demon Dawgs used the time I gave them to give those assholes the pain they earned.
I was certain the man they called Abra was up to the task.
His dark presence reminded me of an avenging angel.
Even though the water is still hot, I shudder at the memory of his intensity as he watches me. I feel as if I should recognize him, even though I know I’ve never seen him before. When I turn off the water and grab a towel, I realize that he looked at me as if he thought he recognized me, too.
I don my pajamas and pull down the covers, but before I can crawl under, my phone rings.
I groan as I consider letting it go to voicemail.
However, there is a possibility that it is my brother calling to check on me.
He’ll freak out if I don’t answer. I grab my phone and hesitate before answering. It isn’t Max, but Blake Erickson.
Blake is my client and a formidable pain in my ass. He’s incredibly wealthy and expects everyone to work to his timetable. Groaning again, I answer even though I really want to ignore the call.
“Mr. Erickson, what can I do for you this evening?”
“Ms. Davenport. I was calling about your meeting tomorrow morning with the Vieux Carré Commission. That’s still scheduled for ten am, correct?”
“Yes, it is. Do you plan on attending?”
“No, I can’t. I’m going out of town tomorrow. However, I’ve come across something that I think might help our cause.”
The cause is his, not ours, but as his lawyer, I have a vested interest. Blake Erickson has a strong desire to acquire a piece of history.
He has his sights set on an abandoned home in the French Quarter.
The property has been vacant since the previous owner died intestate.
The Sheriff planned to auction off the land.
Blake is determined to purchase the property and restore the building.
He’s had me working with the VCC to clear the way for his plans once he wins the auction.
“What do you have?” I ask.
“I have some information about the other bidders that I think will help our cause. I’ve had a private investigator look into them and their plans. I think we can use this information to improve our chances of winning the bid.”
His comment makes me uncomfortable. When Erickson hired me, I looked into the other bidders but found nothing in the public records about who else was participating, let alone any information about their plans.
“How did you get this information?”
“I told you. I hired a private investigator. It’s all above board, I promise. You can be the judge of whether or not we can use the information. How does that sound?”
I sigh, but give in. The investigator may have been able to gather the information legally. If he did, it could be helpful. “I can come by tomorrow and pick it up…” I offer, but Blake rejects this plan.
“I won’t be here tomorrow. Can you come over tonight and pick it up?”
I glance down at my pajamas and roll my eyes. “Of course, I’ll be right over.”
After quickly changing into business attire, I hop into my car and drive the ten minutes to Blake Erickson’s mansion.
The guard passes me through the gate and I park outside the massive entrance.
The building used to be a bank at one time, but Erickson had purchased it and transformed it into a masterpiece of a home.
It makes sense when you consider the priceless collection of artifacts he has on display inside.
Every time I visit, I’m awed by the beauty of the pieces he displays.
His housekeeper answers the door and leads me into Erickson’s study.
Blake sits behind a magnificent mahogany desk.
Anyone else would feel dwarfed by the history and size of the piece. But not Blake.
He stands and circles the desk to greet me. After we shake hands, he plays host.
“Can I get you a glass of wine? Chardonnay, correct?” he offers.
I think of the tiny life growing inside me and shake my head. “No, thank you. I need to drive home. I don’t need anything, but I’m excited to see the information you’ve gathered.”
“Of course,” Blake says, gesturing toward his desk where three files lay in the center.
I reach for them, but Blake grabs me from behind.
With one hand, he pinches my nose, and with the other, he pours bitter liquid down my throat.
I feel myself grow sleepy as I watch him pull my phone out of my purse.
He speaks, but I don’t understand what he’s saying.
I only manage to grasp the word, ‘Abra’, before I drift into darkness.