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I stare at the giant beast stealing the oxygen from the room and realize he might not stop with me.
“He’ll destroy your babies!” my brain chants.
I imagine fighting off the man. In my most ridiculous fantasy, I bounce up from the couch and run to the kitchen. With a knife in hand, I’ll turn into an excellent fighter to protect my babies. I’ll kill this monster and the man who sent him.
Except I could barely get off this couch earlier when I needed to pee. My body still hurts from sitting in the clinic’s chair for hours while holding my kids. I’m worn down after a long day and ready for bed. My fear inspires me to think big, but my body isn’t on the same page.
“Please, don’t hurt my babies,” I whisper, struggling to speak as I remain stuck on the couch.
The man glances at the door as if reconsidering his plan to slaughter a pregnant woman and her innocent children. How much is Neal paying him? I know my husband hides most of his money. Not so much from me but to keep it away from his greedy family. He has a stable job in a way those firecracker-loving freaks don’t.
Can I offer this beast something Neal can’t?If I weren’t terrified, I’d laugh at the idea of me seducing this monster. The last time I was sexy was five years and three babies ago.
Would crying help? Staring at him, I beg my earlier tears to return. Right now, weakness could save my babies rather than put them at risk.
Unable to do more than stare in horror, I whisper again, “Please don’t hurt my babies.”
The man flips on a light and watches me from behind his long hair. I think of him at the grocery store. I saw him at the park once. My brain picks out memories of the man who will take my life.
“This wasn’t the plan,” he grumbles. “I had things all worked out in here.”
Staring when he taps the side of his head, I finally remember how to speak. “What plan?”
“Landry,” he says in a quiet voice that still somehow echoes in my head.
There’s a tenderness behind my name when he says it. If he weren’t a strange man showing up like this, I might think we were friends. Maybe he just feels guilty over what he’s come here to do.
“Who are you?”
“I need you to listen.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Listen,” he insists.
Having heard a similar violence-laced tone too many times to count, I reflexively shrink in fear and resign myself to my fate.
He notices my reaction and narrows his eyes. Peering out the window shades, he almost dares me to run.
Between my swollen belly and four kids, I’m not going anywhere.
“Mama,” Blair whispers from the hall.
Struggling to my feet, I wave at her to back off. As the man’s gaze zeroes in on my oldest daughter, I panic and consider weapons again. Can I reach my phone? Will the county sheriff arrive in time?
The man’s expression softens when he studies her. He gestures for Blair to join me. She wants to be fearless despite her broken arm. Her nature isn’t to submit yet.
Standing with me, Blair lifts her chin and forces her gaze to hold the man’s. I stroke her soft blonde hair and feign a calm I don’t feel.
“I killed your husband,” the beast says to me. “I was always going to end him. I planned to wait. But I saw him put his hands on the child and you.”
The beast’s tone stirs an unfamiliar sensation inside me. I want to believe he isn’t my enemy. Yet, his words make no sense.
“You did what?”
“Neal Copper is dead.”
Blair and I look at each other, both worrying we’re being tricked. Neal’s family likes to play games. They’ll hide in the backyard, tapping at windows to make us think we’re in danger. They once claimed Neal died on the road to “test” my love. When I didn’t cry sufficiently, they ratted me out to him to ensure I got my ass kicked.
