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Now, even Ry.
Her only hope for her nephew was that he’d continue on his current path, just like Jemma planned to continue on with hers.
If Cage insisted on her wearing one of his shirts to bed, she’d pick out a different one in the morning. Tonight she’d ignore that play on words.
Tonight...
Jemma started as she was pulled from her memory and returned to the present. To her current reality.
Brush burn on her inner thighs from his beard. Soreness in places that hadn’t been sore in a long time. And not because she hadn’t had a sexual partner in a while, but because she hadn’t had one like Cage, who was trying to cram it all in in a short amount of time.
She somehow made it back to the municipal lot with both her and Dyna in one piece. How? She had no idea. But her panties were now soaked from reliving the other night.
Maybe she could talk Cage into coming home at lunchtime for a quickie. If not, she might have to take Dyna home, settle her down for a nap and do a little self-service to tide her over until he walked through the trailer door.
Dinner might be delayed.
Dessert before dinner sounded like a plan she could get onboard with. She doubted Cage would complain.
At the back corner of the municipal lot, she’d parked the Volvo under the shade of a tree. While it was the farthest spot from Main Street, she didn’t mind walking the extra steps. In Pennsylvania, summer days could be unbearable with the heat and humidity, but today was bearable. Pleasant, actually.
Things were looking up. Her hair, her interview...
All the orgasmic sex she was having with Cage...
She parked the stroller, unlocked the doors, leaned in and started the engine to blast the A/C to chase out the heat. She steered the stroller to the rear door on the passenger side, buckled in Dyna and the car seat, and left the door open since the interior was still too stifling to close her in.
She moved to the rear hatch, powered it open, collapsed the stroller and loaded it into the back storage area. Before she could close the back, a crunch of stones on blacktop came from behind her. That wasn’t the last thing she heard.
Hell no.
That was, “You took what was ours. Now gonna take what’s yours.”
The bright July sky suddenly went dark. And everything in her world around her disappeared.
Chapter Nineteen
Jemma breathed.
Breathed again.
Her head throbbed so painfully, she was having a difficult time catching her breath.
Beneath her, the hot blacktop burned her skin, even under her clothes.
She needed to move. To get up. To figure out what the hell just happened.
She had heard a voice and then nothing. Everything went black.
Did she get hit by a car? Was she mugged?
She had no idea.
With a groan, she forced open her eyes, and a trickle at the back of her scalp had her pressing her fingers there. Warm liquid. Tenderness. Sharp pain. A possible gash.
Holding her fingers in front of her face, she saw what she suspected.
Blood.
She had been struck from behind.
She heard the crunch of stones on the pavement again.
Fuck!
This time it wasn’t from feet, it was from tires.
A door opened.
More crunching but now under heavy footsteps.
Shit.
The gash on the back of her head began to throb as fast as her racing heartbeat.
A squawk and a voice came over a radio nearby.
Fuck.
Cops.
She forced herself to her hands and knees, the tiny stones digging into her palms. Her head pounded and began to spin, her knees wobbled weakly, but, by grabbing the rear bumper of the Volvo she managed to pull herself to her feet. Blood trickled faster under her hair.
She wondered how bad the gash was and if it would need stitches.
Stitches or not, she had a situation to deal with first. One she was fuzzy about the details since someone had scrambled her brains with something a lot harder than a wire whisk.
Her first instinct was to ask the approaching cop for help. But that instinct was quickly squashed by an older memory. By a strict rule the Originals had lived by. A rule taught since birth.
Men in uniform weren’t there to help.
The pigs were there to hurt. To harm. To steal children away.
To split up families by throwing them behind bars.
To point guns at innocent people.
“What happened? Were you attacked? Did someone hit you?” The voice was deep, calming.
Her vision was a bit blurry yet, and spots came and went. She blinked to try to clear them away. Unsuccessfully.
She took a couple of full breaths before answering because she was trying not to panic. Trying to look natural. Like she had been a klutz or something.
She glanced at the dark-haired cop who wore a concerned expression. His steel blue eyes assessed her as she tried to focus on his name badge.
