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The ick in my gut grows stronger.
He watches me, his gaze searching my face. I show nothing. I don’t let him know that I’m trying to figure the angle to get to the backdoor, trying to work out if I can get through it before he catches me and how I would manage to get over the fence if I did get through.
“I have a plan, Sloanie.”
“A plan?”
He nods and moves me toward the sofa. I sit. “Yeah.” he crouches in front of me. “Listen, I’m gonna get rid of Bobby.”
“‘Get rid of’?”
“You know.” He makes a finger gun with his hand and “shoots” it, complete with a popping sound from his mouth. “And then I’m going to end the kid.”
He means Beck. He’s going to hurt Beck. My stomach is churning with fear.
“Then, when they’re gone, I’ll take care of you and the baby. We’ll be a family. Like we were always meant to be.”
What? And by “what,” I mean,what the actual fuck? “A-a-a family?”
He tilts his head, lays his hand on my knee. “Sloanie, it’s going to be good, you’ll see. I’ll be a great dad. With Bobby gone, you won’t owe money. Once that little shit kid of his is out of the way, our path is clear.”
“‘Our path’?”
I’m just parroting his words as I’m looking around for a way to get out. He’s blocking my way to the front door and I don’t think I’m fast enough to get past him to the kitchen and out that way. Plus, I don’t know the lock situation.
It’s a whole gamble. Right now, I don’t trust that he won’t hurt me or the baby if I try. He’s insane. Batshit crazy, maybe high, I’m not sure. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. His eyes are spinning in their sockets like billiard balls.
“Listen, sweetheart: when I take over Bobby’s turf, it won’t matter who comes after you or tries to get close to you. I’m not going to let anyone get to you or anything come between us.”
“Why, uh… why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Just keep talking. Just keep making him talk.
He smiles sheepishly and looks down. “I don’t know. First, there was your dad, and then this hockey fuck… I wanted to save up money for you, y’know? So I could give you the life you deserve.”
That would make sense if it wasn’t the most in-fucking-sane thing I’ve ever heard. But I rein in the incredulity and paste on a soft smile. “Oh.”
He nods again and seizes my hands. “But don’t worry! I’ve been skimming off Bobby for a while. Got us a nice big nest egg. Big enough we can get a place for us and our baby.” He shrugs. “Unless you want to handle that situation.” He nods to my stomach. “And we can make our own kid.”
“Uh, I’ll have to take a minute.”
Oh God. My stomach is rolling with nausea at the very fucking idea of it. This is Anton. Uncle fucking Anton.
The stalker.
“Of course. Of course.” His brow pinches. “You take as long as you need.”
“Yeah. I should go home and pack.”
“No! No, no, no. I’ll send one of the guys to get your shit. Don’t worry.”
I passed “worried” about two seconds after I saw those roses on the table and I’m well on my way to “absolutely fucking terrified,” but I nod anyway. I need to let Anton think he’s in control until I can work out what to do. I need to focus for a minute, to get my thoughts together.
If Beck was here, he would know the smile I am pasting on is fake. Oh, God, how I wish Beck was here.
“Look, I’ve got it figured out, okay? You just sit tight. I have to make a call. We’re going to put this all in motion now that everything has finally come to light.” He smiles and brushes his finger across my jaw. “I’m so glad you’re here, Sloan. I’ve waited for you.”
I’m going to be sick.
