The Playboy's Baby: A BWWM Pregnancy Romance (14 page)

Rafe grabbed his suitcase and motioned for Oswald to heal. The dog ran to his side. “Let me walk you out to your car.”

Stephen smiled and nodded. “Yes, yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

The elevator ride was awkward. Stephen wouldn’t shut up about being grateful and how everything in his life had turned on him except for Rafe and Patrick’s belief in him.

“Even my wife,” he said.

“Your wife didn’t believe in your innocence?” Rafe said as they both got off the elevator. “She sure fooled me.”

“Well, sure, in the courtroom she was all about my innocence but as soon as I got home, she started questioning all of my motives.” The sound of their shoes clacking against the marble floors were the only noises in the building. Rafe nodded a quick goodbye to the night security guard who tipped his hat in response. Stephen did the same but only got an awkward wave in return. He scoffed. “My life has been turned upside down. The jury said that I was innocent but everyone still thinks I did it.”

“Don’t let it get you down. I’m sure that your life will get back to normal eventually.” Rafe opened the glass doors that led out to the parking lot. The night air was cool and crisp. Fall was starting to set in.

“I’m already taking steps to make sure my life will get back to normal. All my old activities and what not.”

“Oh, that’s great. So what do you do for a hobby?” Rafe asked. Next to him, Oswald barked into the parking lot. He looked down and scolded his pup.

“Flying,” he said. “And art. I’m big into art. I do a lot of drawings and paintings but I’m mostly into charcoal and chalk.”

“Oh yeah?” Rafe asked. He bent down to pick Oswald up in order to keep him from barking. “What do you like to draw?” he asked.

“Angels.”

Rafe looked up but there wasn’t anyone next to him. Stephen had disappeared. He searched the parking lot but nothing was moving. There wasn’t anyone running away. There wasn’t anything suspicious except for a Lincoln town car that was slowly leaving the lot. In the rear window, he could see the figure of a person in the backseat. It was a woman, moving around as if she was dancing to some song on the radio.

“Did that just happen?” Rafe muttered. He turned around and looked back at the office. The guard waved at him and left to do his nightly rounds. “Was I hallucinating?”

Rafe fished out the spare key from his pants pocket. He had only had it for a week now and this was the first time that he would get to use it. “You ready?” he asked Oswald, who was whimpering beside him. As soon as he opened the door to Cheryl’s apartment, Oswald burst through.

The place was trashed. Books were strewn all over the floor. The neatly placed stacks were knocked over. Papers everywhere. Chairs were overturned. It looked as if there was a struggle – or worse.

“Cheryl?!” he screamed. He went from room to room, each one worse than the other. By the time he got to the bedroom, he found blood spatter on the walls. He ran back into the living room and then into the kitchen. There were broken dishes everywhere.

He heard a commotion from the hallway. He ran into the living room in time to meet a couple of policemen.

“What happened here?” asked one of the officers.

“Rafe?” said the other. “Is this your apartment?”

“No, no, no,” he said. “It’s Cheryl’s apartment. She’s my assistant. I can’t find her. She’s pregnant. She can’t be—" That’s when Rafe realized that the figure in the back of that Lincoln town car was Cheryl. He had Cheryl. She was trying to get his attention and he just let her slip through his fingers. “I need to call my dad,” he said. “No. No…Stephen Roche. I need to go to his place.”

“Sir,” said the first police officer. “You have to leave this to the cops. We’ll find your girlfriend.” The second officer stopped him.

“You don’t know Rafe,” he said.

He turned to his friend. “Come on. At least let me take you. That way you can’t cause too much trouble.” He turned to his associate. “Call for back-up. You can ride back to the station with one of them.” With Oswald under his arm, they ran out into the lot toward the cop car.

Chapter 9

Cheryl woke up groggy. “Ugh,” she groaned. “This is getting old.” The world was a gigantic mess of blurred images. A man in the dark. A large room. A table. A large figure in the distance. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, the only clear thought in her head was of her baby. She needed to get out of here to save her baby.

She hadn’t realized she had opened her eyes because the room was pitch black. “I can’t see…” she whispered. “Hello?” her voice strengthened as the panic set in. “Hello? Is there anyone there?” Nothing. No sound. Just the familiar sensation of her hands tied behind her back. “Help!” she screamed. “Help me!” but the only response was in her mind. “Rafe!” Tears streamed down her face. “Rafe…” Her voice trailed off. There was no one there.

After what seemed like forever, she heard the sound of a garage door being slid open except when she looked up, it was as if the entire wall was being slid open. She smelled gasoline in the air and metal. The light from the outside illuminated the room only slightly but the stark difference from the pitch black made her vision blurry so that she couldn’t see anything. When the door shut again, she saw someone in the distance turn on a set of lights inside.

The fluorescent bulbs on the ceiling blinked on, then off, then on again. She was in an airplane hangar. A small airplane hangar. A man was walking toward her but she couldn’t make out whom. Her vision was still slightly blurred. It wasn’t until he was right on top of her that she recognized the face of Stephen Roche. He slapped her so hard that the world went black again. The last sensation that she felt before everything went dark, was the taste of pennies in her mouth.

When she woke up she was still sitting in the center of the hangar. She thought she had seen a small biplane next to her but she must have imagined it because she was alone in the room. The sound of a door slamming shut pierced through the silence. Behind her, there was a shuffle. She tried to turn around to look but her neck hurt so bad that she couldn’t turn it to either side without pain.

“Easy, easy,” said Stephen. “Don’t hurt yourself. That wouldn’t make this any fun.” He walked around in front of her so she could see him. Since her legs were tied together and her hands were bound behind her back, he felt comfortable sitting on the floor in front of her. “I saw your boyfriend today,” he said. “Did you see him when I left him at the office?” He looked at his watch. “I think he was on his way to go visit you. I bet that he’s freaking out right now. What do you say?” He let out a chuckle. “He’s a nice guy. I almost felt bad doing this.”

“Then why are you doing this, you sick freak?”

“Because he ruined my life.”

“He got you out of prison.”

“He didn’t fix it afterwards. My life is ruined. My wife won’t let me see my kids. I got fired from my job. I don’t have anywhere to live and don’t have any way of getting money.”

“Boo hoo. You shouldn’t have killed those women, then you might not have run into this problem in the first place, sicko.”

There was a mixture of rage and laughter written all over his face. He tried his best to keep his composure. “Ha.” He made a fist and held it up, before holding back and finally just shaking his finger at her. “Hindsight is 20/20 after all, isn’t it?” He laid down on the ground. “Don’t rape those women. Don’t kill those women. Yes, we can all see that those would have been the better choices but we can’t help who we are. You’re obnoxious. I’m a serial killer. It’s in our genes.”

He bolted upright again. His hands were fidgety. She could see that he was manic but she didn’t know what to do. They didn’t have any of this covered in any of her textbooks. If her mom knew that she had wished she had taken those self-defense courses like her mom wanted, she would be having a field day right now.

*   *   *

The police car sped away from the Roche home. “We have to get to that hangar,” Rafe said to the police officer. “When I was looking at the evidence we noticed that he only took a couple of hours with the body before dumping it off.” His mind reeled at the possibilities of what Stephen Roche was doing with Cheryl. He punched the dashboard, denting the plastic.

“Whoa, whoa,” the officer said. “Just chill, Rafe. There’s nothing we can do except hurry there. I’ve already called for backup. There are officers that are closer to the hangar than we are, so they will get there first and in no time. You know Cheryl. She’s a smart cookie. And tough, too. I wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley. Would you?”

He took a deep breath. He appreciated his friend’s attempt at trying to make him laugh but all he wanted was for him to shut up and drive.

“We’ll get there in a matter of minutes anyway. Don’t wor—"

The radio crackled. “Officer arriving at the scene. We’ve got some screaming coming from inside the building. Four armed officers heading in.” Rafe could hear Cheryl’s screams through the radio. It made him want to scream also.

* * *

He pushed through the cops and ran into the airplane hangar. A couple of cops were holding Cheryl back from the bloodied body of Stephen, who rolled around on the ground in pain.

“Of course,” Rafe said. The sound of his voice caught her attention. She wriggled free from the cops’ grasp and ran to him.

“Rafe!” she called. She melted into his arms. “Oh, Rafe.”

“I was worried about you. So worried. I should have known that it should have been Stephen that was in the most danger.” She laughed but her laughter was muffled by his suit jacket – which she had buried her face in. Her sporadic laughter quickly turned into sobs, a tear streamed down his cheek as well.

“I got you. I got you,” he said. “I won’t ever let anything happen to you again. I promise.” He held onto her tight, not knowing what kind of pain she might be in, but Cheryl didn’t care. She still had adrenaline pumping through her veins and all she knew was that she felt safe in his arms. She never wanted to leave his embrace again.

*   *   *

The trial was not nearly as long as the previous one. Due to the circumstances, Patrick’s law firm was unable to represent any side of the case. The only thing they could do was go with Cheryl for moral support when she took the stand. Of course, Rafe and Sara were the only members of the law firm that appeared with Cheryl to show their support.

“Patrick sends his regards,” said Sara.

“I need to get that on a shirt so that you won’t even have to say anything when you come to events and situations on your own,” Rafe said, walking up from behind Sara.

“Your dad is busy,” Cheryl said. Her voice was strong and willful. She didn’t need Patrick’s support.

The Final Chapter

Rafe put the last book in the plastic tote and set it aside. It was weird to see his office empty. He hadn’t seen it like that since he first started working there seven years ago.

“You have to go to the hospital,” she said. “Now.”

“Now?” his eyes widened.

“Yes, it’s happening now!” They both made a beeline for the elevator.

“Oh wait!” she said and ran back into the office.

Patrick met her at the door. “Go,” he said. “Go, go, go. And send Cheryl my regards.” His gaze moved from Sara to Rafe, who stood at the other end of the room, holding the elevator door for her.

*   *   *

“My dad smiled at me,” Rafe told Cheryl as they all sat in her hospital room.

In all honesty, Cheryl really didn’t care at that moment but she played along. “Oh really?” she said, breathing in deeply. “Smiled, huh?”

“Yeah, it was weird. Like an alternate dimension where someone took my father and replaced him with an actual father figure.”

“Or maybe he was just being nice to you,” Cheryl said. Rafe and Sara stared at her, open-mouthed. Cheryl shook her head. “That must just be the meds talking,” she finally concluded. “He must just have put in the call to the hitmen. They’ll probably be here any minute now.” She reached over and touched Sara’s shoulder. “You should probably go.”

Sara shook her head. “I’m here till the end, sista,” she said with a smile.

Doctor Bellman walked in from the hallway without even looking away from the chart in his hands. “Well,” he said, still reading the words on the page. “Looks like someone’s ready to have a baby.” His eyes finally moved up from the page. He grinned at Cheryl and Rafe. “My favorite couple. How are you both feeling today?”

“I feel like I’m going to poop out a watermelon,” Cheryl said.

Rafe patted her on the head. “That’s not very becoming, Love.”

“But first I will murder you with Doctor Bellman’s rollerball pen.” Everyone looked at the good doctor.

“Let me finish writing in your chart first. I wouldn’t want to get blood all over your documentation,” he played along. “Seriously though, how are your contractions?”

“Painful,” she replied. “And still too far apart.”

Bellman nodded. “All right. I’ll be back in a bit then. He turned to walk away but stopped at the sight of Sara. “Hello.”

“Ohhh…” Rafe and Cheryl said in unison.

Cheryl turned to him. “I didn’t even think about that. I should have seen that coming.”

Rafe sat down at the edge of the bed. “I hope they have the cameras in the broom closet hooked up because they’ll be in for a show in a little bit.”

Cheryl smacked him in the arm.

“Oh!” Rafe said. “That’s where the line is? You’re talking about pooping watermelons and I get in trouble for insinuating that Sara
might
have sex.”

Cheryl burst out in laughter.

“Freakin’ excuse me,” Sara blurted out. “I’m right here.” She shot them dirty looks.

Bellman offered his hand to the redhead. “Sara, is it?” he said. “My name is Richard Bellman. You can call me Rich.”

“Rich, you say?” she said walking him out the door.

* * *

Within the hour, Cheryl was wheeled off to the delivery room. Rafe tried to insist that he wanted to be there, but Cheryl just swore some obscenity and him and told him that he had done enough. Bellman assured him that Cheryl would be fine on her own and suggested that he keep Sara company out in the waiting room. But when he got there, she wasn’t alone.

“Dad,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Patrick shrugged. “I had some time to kill. I figured I would come and see how my son and his daughter are holding up.”

“No daughter yet,” he said. He sat down in the seat next to his dad. “What are you really doing here, though?”

“Let’s take a walk, shall we? This will only take a minute. Then we can come right back so that you can hear Cheryl call you a turdblossom again.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Rafe said.

“There’s a lot of bathroom humor going on today,” Sara said, thumbing through a magazine.

They took a stroll around the floor. It was quiet at first. Patrick just looked ahead and kept walking. “I’m glad that Cheryl’s safe. I know how important she is to you.” He grinned. “I’m also glad that she’s so tough. I don’t think that I got a chance to say that after Roche’s arrest.”

“She’s a fighter. That’s for sure.”

“Cheryl’s got a lot of heart. Something that Stacey doesn’t have. How is she?”

“We’re going through the divorce papers now. She’ll have a nice settlement and I’ll probably give her the villa up in Italy. She always loved that place.”

“And your son?”

“She wants to give me full custody. She’s not a mother. I think we all know that.”

Patrick grinned. “I couldn’t imagine her as a mother. She might drop the poor child on its head.”

“Or accidentally leave it on top of her car,” he said. “Like all of the travel mugs she’s lost throughout the years.”

“I know I’ve been hard on you,” Patrick said suddenly. “It’s only because I don’t want you to be unhappy.” He stopped and grabbed onto Rafe’s shoulders. “You are my only son. I want you to be successful.”

“My definition of success isn’t your definition of success,” Rafe said. “I want a family. I want a wife that loves me and that I love. I want to be a lawyer but not the kind that backs clients for the money.”

“Does that mean that you really are turning down the partnership?”

“I can’t do it anymore, Dad. Not after Roche. I think my life is going in a different direction.”

“You’re going to drop law?”

“No, I think I’m going to pick up environmental law. It’s always intrigued me.”

Patrick thought about it for a moment. “I suppose that does make sense,” he finally said. “You’ve always been one to play out in the woods and, you know, recycle.”

Rafe laughed. “Yeah. Cheryl and I are going to take a break from work to set up our home and then we’ll be looking at renting some space to start our own small firm.”

Patrick nodded. “It’s a smart decision,” he said. “An environmental firm in this city. You’re going to get a lot of business.”

Rafe smiled. “Good.” They both walked back to the waiting room together and were greeted by another face sitting next to Sara, but this one was a stranger.

Sara stood up. “This is Rochelle Goode.”

The woman stood up from her seat. She was beautiful. Rafe could see where Cheryl got her kind eyes and her cheekbones. She held out her hand. “Call me Chelle,” she said.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Rafe said. He shook her hand and pointed toward his father. My name is Rafe and this is my father Patrick.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, child,” she said after acknowledging Patrick. “My daughter seems to be in love with you.” She looked him up and down. “I suppose I can see why.” She turned toward his father. “You two do look alike. I suppose if you end up looking like him when you get older, you’ll be okay for my daughter, if you treat her right.”

Rafe looked up at his father, who had a cocky grin on his face. He turned back to Cheryl’s mom. “I love your daughter. I only treat her with respect and I want the best for her.”

“She told me that you saved her life.”

Rafe didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t saved her life. “She’s a strong woman,” he finally replied. “She doesn’t need a man to save her life but I will be there by her side if she ever needs me.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Good answer.”

*

The office was small, much smaller than they were used to. The dingy tile floors were hideous and the water-stained walls were even worse. The floor tiles had to be from the seventies. That shade of green had to be illegal to reproduce these days. The wallpaper on the walls would even make a clown dizzy from the color and pattern. There was nothing good about what they were seeing – except for the price.

After the divorce and leaving his job, Rafe was still able to provide for his family and had enough to help jumpstart their new law firm. However, he got that way because he was a tightwad. He sold his wonderful house and spent only a fraction of the profits on their current home. Not only that, he also like the idea of having a fixer-upper to work on anyway. Building things with his hands was something that he wasn’t used to, so it was still novel and unique to him.

“We can’t open up an environmental firm in a rat trap like this,” Cheryl said as she walked into the building. She pushed the stroller ahead of her. Oswald was sitting up in the stroller with his head poking out from under the sun visor. Next to him was a toddler, a small girl by the name of Sara.

Rafe turned around in the lobby of the office building. “Come on. With a little work, it won’t be that bad.” His phone beeped. When he looked at it, his eyes lit up. “I have to go pick up Simon at the airport,” he said. His eyes twinkled. “Another addition to our family, can you believe it?”

Cheryl smiled. She hadn’t pictured Rafe as a family man before but it suited him well. He was just like a big kid at heart, anyway.

He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re sure this doesn’t bother you?” he asked again.

She rolled her eyes. “For the hundredth time, no. Simon is your child and now he will be ours. Besides, if I had reservations, it wouldn’t do me any good to state them now, would it?” she said with a chuckle.

He kissed her again. “I’m going to have the driver drop us off at home and then swing back to pick you up. You’re sure that you don’t want to come with us to the airport?”

She shook her head. “I hate airports. You know that.”

*   *   *

“Promise not to be mad?” Cheryl said walking into the bedroom. She had just finished putting the kids to sleep. Oswald was curled up in a ball at the foot of their bed. She climbed into the bedroom and rubbed the last bit of lotion into her hands.

“No,” he said. “I know you better than that. What did you do?” He raised an accusing eyebrow.

“I called your dad.”

“Are you both planning a hit on me? Cause that might actually make me mad.”

“That office is a rat trap. You know that.”

“Uhh…” Rafe started. “I’m not borrowing any more of dad’s money. It’s nice of him to offer but—"

“That’s not it,” she said. “Your dad’s thinking of downsizing a bit. Ever since Roche’s arrest and Rochester’s death, they’ve been taking in fewer clients. Their lawyers have moved on. I think we should consider renting the Rochester floor and turning it into our own office.”

Rafe’s eyes suddenly turned away and looked past her. “Huh,” he said. “I hadn’t thought about that before. Dad does want to see the kids more often – which is weird.”

“Right?” she sputtered. “I hope he’s not wanting another protégé cause—"

“Don’t worry. I won’t let that happen.” He held his arm out. Cheryl cuddled in it and looked up into his blue eyes. “Since we have a home next to your mother, dad seems to be a bit jealous at how often she gets to see Sara.” He leaned his head back against the pillow. “Did you ask dad already?”

“Actually, it was him who pitched the idea. I called your dad to ask him about other places that were renting. He came down to see the building that you were considering and completely wrote it off. Said that the types of clients that we were looking at wouldn’t step foot in that place. That’s why he suggested the Rochester floor.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” he said.

It was the first time in a long time Cheryl felt calm and at ease. Her kids were asleep. She felt safe in Rafe’s arms. Their firm was started to really come together. They even had some clients lined up once they open their offices.

*   *   *

Cheryl rolled over in bed. She needed to find better curtains to keep some of the light out of their bedroom. She knew Rafe would appreciate that, but when she opened her eyes, she found that she was alone in the room. Dishes clanked in the kitchen.

“Crap,” she muttered. It was sweet for Rafe to always want to make breakfast for her but she hated having to do the clean-up after the fact. He didn’t know what a sponge was or what it was supposed to do. She wasn’t his maid after all, even if he liked the outfit.

She tiptoed down the stairs and took a peek in the kitchen. He had on her pink floral apron and was in the process of cooking some bacon. He turned toward the doorway and waved a greasy spatula at her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m making you breakfast.” He slid the bacon onto a plate and turned the burner off. The plate fit perfectly onto the table, right in between the eggs and the pancakes.

“Well, the food does look good,” she said. She strolled up to him and put her arms around his chest, hugging him from behind. He set the spatula down and hugged her arms. “But I wasn’t really thinking about food just yet.”

“What? Are you going to sleep all morning? I know the kids are spending the night with your mom but…” His voice trailed off.

He loosened her grip on him so that he could turn to face her. He pulled her closer. She found the tie of the apron at his waist and pulled it, releasing him from one of the most feminine things in the house. She couldn’t help but smile as she pulled it off him.