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Baby Love McKinley
I've been waiting for a small painting I ordered from another artist during my last show.
I'm so excited, I don't even check for a return label. I see the box and it looks about the right size, so I open it.
What I don't do is consider the fact I have no idea who delivered it to the hotel suite door… I just pop it open.
I dig inside, but it's not the painting I've been anxiously awaiting.
"Oh, holy fuck," I hiss. My hands shake as I fight the urge to puke. My gut roils as I drop the picture back into the box.
There are others, but the one that has my breakfast threatening to make an appearance is one of me. I'm walking arm in arm with Issac, out of a restaurant. It's not just the fact the picture was taken without any of us noticing. It's what that fucking psycho drew on it.
I shake violently as I try to calm my nerves.
Kitten has been sequestered away, riding out her heat, and keeping a low profile since the incident with the hand-delivered letter at the club. Her building is heavily secured, and apparently that bastard who's stalking her got impatient and decideddelivering the message to us was easier than trying to make it past all that security.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Issac hisses after rushing across room. He's holding the same picture that took my breath away. I can tell because the red Sharpie can be seen through the back as Issac examines it. There's a jagged line drawn across my stomach and a very crudely drawn image of the baby lying on the concrete at our feet. "They better find this fucker before I get my hands on him…"
Issac tosses the picture back into the box and pulls me into his chest. "You know I won't let anything happen to you or the baby."
"I know," I agree. My nose roots around his chest, sucking in hits of his scent. He's vibrating with tension.
"I can't believe I did that," I say, shaking my head. "I messed up big time."
It's pregnancy brain, it has to be. I know Kitten has a stalker, and threats have been made to anyone close to her.
Why the hell did I open that box without checking for a label?
What part of my brain was actually working? None, no part apparently.
"Nah," Dex says, folding up the box. I guess he came in while I wasn't paying attention. "That ain't on you."
"I'm going to call Kitten's security guys and let them know…" Issac trails off. "Why don't you go rest for a little while?"
He kisses my forehead and gently shoves me toward Dexter.
"Hey, try to stay calm," Dexter says, pulling me into his chest as he walks us into the hotel bedroom. I let him guide me away. I need to get away from that horrible fucking box. I know they've been insulating Kitten from the details, and no fucking wonder. I can only imagine the threats that have been made to her if that's what they'll threaten me with.
The room is dim, but the bedside lamp gives us some light. My nostrils flare as I take in Dexter's scent. It's like the salt-water-tinged air you breathe in on a day at the beach. It's comforting and distracting all at once.
"I'm so damn worried about Kitten. What the hell is wrong with people? I'd really like to fuck up whoever sent that demented fucking box," I tell Dex.
That letter and those pictures… God. There is something really wrong with the world when a person ends up as sick and twisted as you'd have to be to make those types of threats. It's like my mind can't really process it.
"She'll be fine. Don't stress. It's not good for you or our baby," Dex says, running a hand down over my hip. "Stretch out. I know your hips hurt."
Dexter's scent fills the air even more completely as he flops down on the bed. He stretches out and pats his tattoo-covered chest.
"Come on, sweetness," Dex says, stretching out his fingers and wiggling them for me.
I'm not stressed, I'm furious on Kitten's behalf. Okay, and I'm willing to admit I'm a little creeped out someone would make that type of threat against me and the baby… all for what? Being associated with Kitten?
I stare at Dexter and my chest aches with regret over the distance between us. Then again, he's so damn confusing.Ourbaby? You don't get to be half in when it comes to kids. I'm not a complete hag. I wouldn't keep him from the baby under any circumstances, but he only seems invested when it suits him.
He's been so disengaged recently, and it scares the hell out of me for when the baby grows up. Kids with half-interested parents tend to grow up to be adults with issues.
I've lived that existence my entire life. I know how it messed me up. Luckily Issac is all in with me and the baby, but it's hard to imagine Dexter not being a part of all of it.
