My Valentine: Siren #2

  His smirk disappears as he leans both hands on either side of the chair’s arm rests. With his face inches away from mine, he snarls. “First, you coerce me into fucking you, and then you get your arsehole boyfriend to blackmail me, and now this? Who the fuck do you take me for?”

  Deliberately, I sit myself more upright, so he doesn’t think what he’s doing is bothering me in any way. “I found this all out recently and decided to see you for myself. I didn’t realise at the time that you were … who you are.”

  He locks me with his green eyes before his eyes trail down to my lips. “So, what is this? You want to blackmail me again? Tell everyone that I fucked my own daughter? I know from experience that you’re a kinky little whore, but this …” he starts laughing again. “This really fucking takes the piss.”

  “I’m telling you the truth. It’s a possibility that you’re my father. I only came here to see for myself. I don’t want any trouble, and I’m not after anything from you. I only came to see.”

  He pulls back, but only enough that he’s sitting on the edge of his desk in front of me. He crosses his arms, still staring at me. I remember that stare from all those months ago. I remember feeling that although he was a mark, I was attracted to him. I also remember how mind-blowing the sex was. He liked it rough just like me. He was one of the only marks I had who knew my body without having to ask.

  “You owe me five grand,” is all he says.

  “Can we get to that afterwards? I think the bombshell that I may be your daughter needs to come first.”

  “I shoot blanks, so this is an irrelevant conversation.”

  I frown. “But you have three kids.”

  He sighs, his arms still crossed over his chest. “Artificial insemination. The lot of them.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Uncrossing his arms, he leans forward again. “You con me out of five fucking grand and then have the audacity to come here telling me that I’m lying about my own fucking body?! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  I sigh, realising this is going nowhere. I don’t believe him at all about his kids, but I can’t prove it. Coming here was definitely a mistake. “I think I should go.”

  He starts laughing. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. I have five grand to make off you.” He leans closer—so close I can smell the coffee on his breath. His eyes trail down my body before coming back up. “Men would pay a lot of money to sleep with a pregnant woman, did you know that? I could keep you for a few days and eventually make my money back. Heck, maybe I’ll even have another go. I remember you like it rough, don’t you, whore?”

  For the first time ever in my adult years, someone’s words sicken me. His words sicken me. “You can take me, but I’ll scream blue murder. Someone will hear.”

  He thinks on that for a moment. “Hmm, you’re right.”

  I watch as he gets up from his desk and walks around to his side. Once there he opens a drawer. “What are you doing?”

  When I see him pull out some rope, I’m out of my chair in a flash and heading for the door. Once I have my hand on the knob, I feel him put his hand across my mouth and pull me tightly to him. “Don’t scream, little whore. Save all that for later.” In lightening speed he puts a handkerchief in my mouth and tightly pulls my hands behind my back. I start struggling, but he’s strong. Once he has my hands securely tied, he leans in close to my ear. “No one can con me out of money and get away with it.” He pulls me from the door before tugging at the handle. Once opened, he pushes me forward, but I struggle again. “Don’t make this harder on yourself then it already is, bitch.”

  He leads me down the hallway and out through one of the fire exit doors. Just outside is a Black Bentley Continental GT. I hear a click and his lights come on. I think he’s going to push me in the seat next to him, but instead, he opens his boot.

  I start to struggle harder, screaming through my gag. Once he puts me in there, that’s it. As he manages to shove me in, something terrifying washes over me for the first time. I’m used to looking after number one—always have, and I thought I always would. I’m selfish to a fault. But lying here in the boot of the car with my hands tied behind my back and a gag in my mouth, I’m not thinking about myself anymore.

  I’m thinking about my baby.

  When the realisation dawns on me, I suddenly become appreciative of everything I have. Fucking great timing, I know, but faced with an uncertain and potentially dangerous outcome, it’s made me realise that I have a precious life growing inside of me.

  Over and over again, all I can mutter in my head are five little words. All I’m pleading in my head are five words.

  Please don’t harm my baby.

  For a few seconds, as I stare up at Gregory Maxwell—the man who might very well be my father—I think to myself how much history can repeat itself. First Richard and now him.

  Fucking ironic really.

  “I’d get comfortable if I were you,” he says, smiling down at me. “It’s going to be a long drive. I would suggest saving your energy. You’re going to need it for what I have planned for you.” He puckers his lips up to blow me a kiss before winking. He starts laughing and then he shuts the boot, leaving me in darkness.

  Tears pool my eyes when it dawns on me that there’s no getting out of this now.

  I’m fucked.

  As I wait for him to start the car and leave, I’m surprised when at first I don’t hear a thing. And then something happens. I hear a thud, followed by grunting, followed by another thud. My heart rate picks up when I hear footsteps along the gravel. I hear the jangling of keys and then light appears as the boot opens. A figure emerges, and at first, I can’t see. Suddenly the unknown of who this could be makes my fear creep up like never before.

  “Scarlet,” the familiar voice says, and instantly, I relax. Fresh tears of relief crawl down my face as he gently takes the gag out of my mouth and unties me before very gently lifting me into his arms.

  “David,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “Don’t worry, baby. I got you.”

  Those words make me wonder how he got Greg. I look around to discover a baseball bat lying on the ground and next to it is an unconscious Greg lying flat on his stomach.

  “How did you know?” I ask, finding my voice.

  He gives me a somewhat guilty look. “I followed you.”

  I smile, squeezing my hand around his neck. “I’m glad you did.”

  He chuckles. “So am I.” He looks me over. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  I shake my head. “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

  “Can you stand up on your own?”

  I nod my head with a smirk. “Yes.”

  Placing me down, I lean up, giving him a warm kiss on the lips. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  A deep crinkle forms in his forehead. “I want to ask why he did this, but for now, I just want to get you home. Let’s go.”

  Bending down, he picks up the baseball bat, grabs my hand, and leads me towards the Porsche I drove in.

  “I’ll drive.”

  Walking around the door, I frown. “What about your car?”

  “It’s parked around the corner. I’ll get someone to fetch it later. For now, let’s just get you home safely.”

  Nodding, I get into the passenger seat where David straps me in. In no time, he has the car started and is pulling out onto the main road.

  “Are you going to tell me why he did that? I always knew he was a scumbag, but I would never have put him down as an abductor of pregnant women.” His eyes widen like it’s suddenly dawned on him what’s happened. “Shit!”

  I watch for a moment, scanning David’s face as he keeps his eyes on the road. What do I tell him? The truth? I guess I owe him that much. He already knows I’ve led a dark and dangerous life in the past, but if I tell him, he’ll know everything. More than I’d ever wanted to tell anyone.

  “He was a mark,” I finally say, closing
my eyes. A mark that could be my father.

  Shit!

  “What?” David asks, wondering what the hell I’ve just said.

  Here goes nothing.

  Reid

  It was a loud bang that just woke me from my drunken sleep. Again, I had gotten so drunk I could hardly stand. In the end, Akilah had to take me to bed. I sat, spilling my fucking guts out to him all night as he plied me with drinks. He knows the full horror story now. It was probably stupid of me to tell all, but I had to tell someone. The thought of Scarlet and what I had done to her won’t stop plaguing me. Luckily for me, he didn’t flinch. I think he’s been through many horrors himself over the years, so my story probably sounds like a children’s fairytale to him.

  On a moan, I roll over, thinking I am on the other side. I fall out face down, bumping my chin on the cold tiles. “Shit!” I curse, moaning as I pull myself up. Again, my head pounds. I never learn. Every time I feel like this, I tell myself that I’ll stay off the booze, and every night, I end up drinking myself into oblivion until the memory of her is gone.

  Another distant thud sounds, making my movements quicken. If someone’s downstairs stealing my shit, then they’ll be sorry. I’ve had a number of incidents where alcoholics have tried to break into my bar to steal food along with their ultimate goal—booze.

  Standing on my feet, dizziness floods my brain, making me stagger. I manage to get to the door in time before I fall over, grabbing the baseball bat as I go.

  I open the door, trying to listen out for sounds, but all I can hear is the buzzing noise in my ears. Moving along the corridor, I reach the steps and carefully step down each one without tripping over my own drunken feet. My heart starts thumping with adrenaline as I reach the door to the bar area. Pushing slightly, I peak through, trying to see if I can notice any movement beyond the door.

  All is quiet.

  Cautiously—with my bat at the ready—I push the door fully open and step inside. A dim side light that I always leave on lights the bar area up. Everything is as it should be. Everything except for a freshly made gin and tonic sitting on the bar with a side of lime on the glass.

  Scarlet’s usual spirit of choice.

  My heart skips as I approach the bar and pick up the offending glass. Bubbles form at the top making me think that this has very recently been poured. As I turn the glass around, my heart stops again when I see the red lipstick mark coating the rim.

  Something moves out of the corner of my eye. I look up, but there’s nothing there. “Who’s there?” I ask angrily. I’m fucking sick of this shit. “Whoever’s there is going to get the arse kicking of the fucking century. Do you hear me?!” I shout, making my head pound at the sound of my own voice.

  I don’t know how long I stand there for, trying to make out any sounds, but when nothing comes, I have one last look around before chucking the gin and tonic down the sink and putting the glass into the dishwasher. I turn to leave, and what I hear makes my blood run cold.

  “Reid,” her voice whispers, making me shudder. I feel a cool breeze at the base of my neck. I violently spin around, but there’s nothing fucking there.

  “Shit!” I shout, running my fingers through my hair.

  “Reid,” she says again.

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I close my eyes, grasping my hair in my fingers.

  “Reid.”

  “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

  I run to my room, taking two steps at a time. At least there, she doesn’t seem to haunt me except when I sleep. In fact, I feel safer there than I do in my own damn fucking bar.

  Shakily, I run to the bedside and grab my phone mid-charge. I fling the charging point off, lighting it up. It’s just gone over six here, but it’s darker than Hell. That’s another thing about living here. The days might be longer, but it fucking takes an age to get light in the mornings.

  Without a moment’s thought, I ring her mobile number. I know she’ll probably be asleep, but I don’t fucking care.

  She answers after the fourth ring.

  “Hello?” she asks groggily. It’s just as I thought. I’ve woken her.

  “Dr Mercy, I need to see you.”

  “Reece?” She squeals my name like I’ve frightened her. It would normally make me laugh if I wasn’t so fucking scared shitless right now.

  “I’m going fucking crazy. She’s haunting me, Doc. Fucking haunting me.” My breaths come in small gasps down the phone.

  “Okay, Reece. Deep breaths for me. In,” she asks, I immediately do as she asks, slowly sucking in a deep breath into my lungs, “and out again.” Her voice is soothing, making the calm wash over me instantly. “Now, tell me from the beginning.”

  So, I do. I tell her about that night last week when I was drunk and high. That I heard her calling my name, and that she won’t stop plaguing me. Once I finish, I stay silent, waiting for her response.

  “You have guilt, Reece, and you obviously need to address something. Your depression and guilt over the loss of Scarlet is causing you to have these hallucinations. Now, tell me. Have you been drinking more than usual? If you’re mixing alcohol and drugs when you’re depressed, then it’s no wonder you’re going through this.”

  I sigh, knowing I need to admit defeat. “Yes, I have been drinking more than usual.”

  I hear movement on the phone and it makes me wonder if she’s scooting up in her bed. For a fleeting moment, I wonder what she’s wearing.

  “Are you sleeping okay?”

  I run my hand over my face. “Fits and starts,” I admit. “A thumping noise in my bar is what woke me up. Someone was in here and made a gin and tonic. How can you explain that?”

  “Could it not have been that it was left there by a customer? That either you or your barman missed it when you closed for the evening?”

  “I could understand that, but this gin and tonic still had bubbles. It was fresh.”

  “Was there plenty of ice in it?”

  I frown, almost laughing. “I think discussing the amount of ice in the drink is the last issue at hand, don’t you think?”

  I hear her sigh. “No, Reece. I’m asking because if it had plenty of ice in it, the bubbles in the liquid would have lasted longer. I was a science geek at school, so I know all this stuff.”

  “It did have lots of ice.”

  “See. It could have been just that. I would suggest you lay off the booze. As well as it being unhealthy for you, it’s also halting any recovery of your mental well-being.” She pauses a moment. “I know you keep saying no, but the offer to prescribe you medication is still on the table. It’ll only be for the short haul—until such time as you can get over the obvious guilt you hold inside for Scarlet.”

  Closing my eyes, I shake my head. I don’t want to go down that route. Once I do, that’s it. It’ll be like admitting that I somehow failed.

  “I can hear you thinking, Reece. You’re not a failure just because you admit to someone that you need help. In fact, it takes a very strong character to admit you need it. Don’t forget that.”

  I smile at that, and suddenly, I feel ten times better. “The answer’s still no for now, but I’ll think about it.”

  “Okay, good. You’re scheduled to come and see me in a few days, but if you still need me, I can meet you at my offices in an hour?”

  Just talking to her on the phone has calmed me. I do want to see her, but not because of fear now. It’s because hearing her sexy Scottish accent asking me if I need her has made my dick stiff. Besides, she’ll only charge me an extra call-out rate—a rate I can ill afford since that scumbag of a Guardia Civil officer stole from me. Anger races through me at the thought. At some point, I will need to deal with that fucker.

  “No, it’s okay,” I answer. “I feel a lot better now.”

  “Good,” she replies. I can hear the smile in her voice. “If you need me, I’m always here. See you on Thursday, Reece.”

  For the first time, my heart warms at the thought. “Yes. See you on T
hursday.”

  Scarlet

  It’s been a few weeks since that incident at Greg Maxwell’s place and the subsequent telling of all to David. I knew once I revealed everything, he would be different with me. He always knew I liked sex, but I guess it’s hard on him knowing that the woman he’s sleeping with used to be a whore.

  There’s no denying it. No matter how much it stung when Greg called me one, it’s still true. I slept with men for money. A lot more money than they were willing to give in fact. No matter the circumstances, the fact is that I still sold myself.

  And the worst part about all this shit is that in my quest to find answers, I not only put myself and my baby in danger, but I also came away with just as few answers as I went in with. The only thing I got from that whole episode was that he had similar eyes to me, and he’s a complete and utter psychotic bastard.

  Maybe I am his daughter after all.

  “I promise you we won’t be long in the shop, but we have to start buying things for the baby now, Scarlet. He or she is almost due now. Only another five weeks to go.”

  I walk with David in the local mall. My hair is tied and hidden with a baseball cap. I have sunglasses on—even though we’re inside—and I’m wearing maternity jeans along with an oversized coat. It makes me feel fat and boring, but the less I’m noticed by others, the better. I didn’t want to come, and I told David that someone might recognize me as an excuse. The truth of the matter is that I’m scared. This baby scares the life out of me.

  I glance at David, nodding my head, and we make our way into the baby store to look at a pushchair, car chair, and crib. David seems to be in his element, which is good. Lately, he’s been off with me, and I can’t tell whether it’s because of what I told him after he rescued me, or if he’s still fighting his own personal demons with regards to me possibly being his daughter.