Chapter 9
"Charmed couple, the dashingly handsome multi-billionaire pub owner Oscar O'Sullivan and historical romance writer, Kiara Landan are expecting!
This reporter has it on good authority that the couple who were very much in love are having twins!
Two for the price of one. The couple met when Landan dropped into one of O'Sullivan's pubs to have a drink and the rest as they say is history.
One cannot help but wonder what's next for these two?
Wedding bells, perhaps? Stay tuned for more in the lives of our favorite couple. "
The unearthly screams rent the air, reverberating around the soundproof room.
"No. No. No. No."
Each denial was punctuated with stabbing motions aimed at the paper. Ed felt as if his head was exploding.
"Bitch! Whore! Cunt!"
He slashed at the photo of the couple as they exited the metropolitan theater, holding hands.
"I thought you were special."
He was frothing at the mouth, saliva dribbling down his chin. His hair was in tufts and spikes where he had chopped at the strands with the dull scissors. His hands were red and bruised. He was going to kill her. Both of them. He was going to find them and destroy them.
Yes. He laughed gleefully, the madness gleaming in his eyes.
He would kill her in front of him, make him suffer. Sliding to the floor and ignoring the insistent ringing of the phone, he allowed the tears to slide down his cheeks.
It was his fault. That whoring bastard. He had forced her to lie with him and now she was pregnant. He was going to pay.
Picking up the shreds of paper, he smoothed out the tattered pieces, trembling fingers moving over the beloved face of the woman he had come to adore. She was lost to him now. She was no longer pure and had to be punished. He had loved her so, he thought, the sickness curdling his stomach.
Would have done anything for her. But she had chosen to be with a heathen, a man who used and discarded women at will. He would have cherished her. But she had chosen him for his looks and his money. She would pay and pay dearly.
Swiping a hand over his wet cheeks, he forced himself to be steady. He had to think and plan.
He had been gentle with her, too forgiving. When she had left her home to go and shack up with the bastard, he had been understanding, thinking the passion would run its course.
But now it had gotten more complicated. She was carrying his babies. Two! Pain arrowed straight into his heart, making him weak. Leaning back against the bed, he rocked himself, eyes wild with grief.
The phone rang again and he snatched it up.
"What!" he screamed.
"How dare you speak to your mother..."
"I hate you! You pathetic piece of garbage. Leave me alone."
Hanging up, he burst out crying, the sobs echoing around the room. When he was spent, he laid on the floor and started praying for forgiveness and guidance.
It was in the early hours of the morning that clarity struck. First he was going to have to get rid of the millstone hanging around his neck. He would get rid of his mother first and then set about punishing Kiara and that bastard she was hooked up with.
But before that, she needed to be taught a lesson and to know that it was a sin to toy with someone's emotion.
Placing a hand over her bump, Kiara gazed off into the dense surrounding of trees, an enraptured expression on her face. It was times like these she wished she could paint. The sky was a blush rose, streaked with white and a faint hint of blue.
It was sunrise and she was happy she had decided to come out for her early morning walk.
Oscar would not be pleased that she was taking the trek by herself, but he wasn't here, was he? He was all the way in Ireland to visit his sick grandmother and would have hauled her along with him, if the doctor had not advised against it.
Shaking her head, she continued to walk, her feet sliding into the dew of the grass. She had seen the torment on his face and how torn he was. Gran Irene meant the world to him and there was no way he would not have gone to see her.
So, she had reluctantly compromised, hadn't she? By agreeing to have Eric stay at the house until he gets back. The man had not been two minutes on the plane before he started calling to check on her.
She felt confident and peaceful. The stalker had not reached out for a few weeks, leaving her to believe that he had gone on to someone else. Hopefully.
Margo had warned her that was not usually the case.
"He developed a powerful crush on you. He's not suddenly going to switch it off. I'm worried about the silence. It's been too long."
But she wasn't. And for her peace of mind, Kiara decided to take the win. All was well right now. Her mother had mellowed, right after the last argument where Kiara had told her that this was going to be the last time she puts up with her behavior.
"The doctor says no stress and I'm going to see to it that it remains that way. Even if it means cutting you out of my life."
Lifting her head, she sniffed the clean air and closed her eyes. Her babies had started moving. Rubbing her hand over the mound, she whispered to them, little things, describing the kind of world they would be coming to.
Telling them they were loved. She had endured a miserable childhood and was determined that her babies would be different. She would make sure to tell them frequently that she loved them, that they were worth something and they could be anything they want to be.
Ignoring the sharp pain of memory that sliced through her brain, she ruthlessly plucked it out and continued to murmur words of love and encouragement. A sound in the underbrush had her jolting and then laughing softly when she saw the squirrels scampering up the oak tree.
She breathed in, letting her senses fill with the earthy perfume of the woods, the gentle chorus of birds just beginning to stir. The calm of the moment almost made her forget the anxiety that sometimes crept in at the edges of her thoughts.
For now, surrounded by the hush of nature and the promise of a new day, she felt sheltered and strong, ready to face whatever came next.
The crunching of footsteps on the gravel had her turning around.
"I thought I would find you here."
Eric, looking rumpled, his hair standing up in tufts as if he had been spending time digging through the strands.
"Taking a walk."
She wrapped her arms around her, hugging her elbows.
"You're cold. Let me get you..."
"Stop!"
She held up her hand with a rueful laugh.
"I know Oscar gave you specific instructions about looking out for me, but you can take it too far and I don't want to hurt you."
He raised a skeptical brow as he eyed her petite frame compared to his bulk.
"I can find ways to do it."
She promised.
"I'm fine."
"Ready to go back in?"
Rolling her eyes, she resigned herself to ending her walk.
"I suppose. I'm hungry anyway. Shouldn't you be going to the club?"
"I'm sticking around for a bit. Do some paperwork."
Taking her hand, he slid it through his arm and fell into step beside her.
"Eric, I don't need a damn babysitter. Irene is here and she's as bad as Oscar. And I have no intention of leaving to go anywhere today."
Turning her to face him, he studied the exquisite face and felt a pang that he had not seen her first.
"Oscar is like a brother to me, and I made a promise to stick close. What I have to do can be done remotely. It's early and the club can operate without me for a bit. I..."
Turning slightly to the left saved his life. The shot came out of nowhere, struck his left shoulder and landed into the thick trunk of an old oak tree near to the gazebo. Instinct and years of training had him shielding her and reaching for his piece.
Dragging it out, he fired off a round. Without waiting to find out if it connected, he scooped her into his arms and sprinted low towards the house. The sting of pain from the bullet was ignored.
The only thing on his mind was to get her to safety.
Bursting into the house, he slammed the doors shut and raced towards the living room where he deposited her gently on the sofa.
"Are you hurt?"
His large hands raced over her face and shoulders as he looked for signs that she had been shot.
"I'm fine."
Shaky fear had her feeling so weak, she could not stop trembling. She caught his hands in hers.
"I'm fine. You're the one bleeding."
"Flesh wound."
He shook that off and hunkered down, his knees trembling.
"I have to call it in. I have to call Oscar."
"Yes."
She pressed her hand against her jumping stomach and took several deep breaths.
"Yes."
"Stay here. I'll also call your doctor."
"There's no need..."
"Oscar will insist."
Rising slowly, he stood for a minute to adjust his thinking.
"Let me get Irene."
He made his way from the room and leaned against the hallway wall for a minute.
"Son of a bitch!" he whispered.
"What's going on?"
He had waited to call Oscar, trying to find the words. The police were swarming the place, looking for clues and trampling through the woods that led to the harbor. The doctor was in with Kiara and declared her blood pressure was elevated.
Which was bloody natural after what happened.
"There's been an incident."
"Clarify."
Rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, Eric continued. He had downed four pain killers and brusquely told the doctor to patch him up.
"He was in the woods from the direction of the harbor. I was shot. I'm fine."
He hastened to add.
"A flesh wound. The bastard is a lousy shot..."
"Kiara?"
The icy voice stopped him cold.
"Unharmed. She was taking a walk, and I went to get her. I had my hands on her, just talking you see and he got off a shot."
"Has he been caught?"
The man was too calm, Eric thought, fear skittering along his spine. Way too calm.
"No. He stole a boat and..."
"I'm on my way. Let me talk to Kiara."
"I'm sorry as hell..."
"I need to talk to her. Now."
Sighing softly, he made his way upstairs and into the bedroom where the doctor was just packing up her bag.