Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (37 page)

“Honey, are you okay?”

The woman’s soothing voice washed over her and brought her the peace she’d sought. It meshed with her memories and made her feel cherished, loved.

“Chloe?”

A warm hand caressed her cheek and she smiled. It had been so long since she’d been touched with gentleness and concern.

“Chloe, honey, you’re scaring me. Open your eyes.”

She didn’t want to. If she did, the rainbows and sunshine might disappear again.

“Now,” the woman’s voice became firmer and, when a hand gripped her shoulder, Chloe winced and forced open her eyes.

Heather
. The blond, curly haired Bible-thumper. She’d almost forgotten about her.

“What happened to you?” Heather asked, crouching next to her.

“I told you this wasn’t a safe place.”

“Wh—what do you mean? Did someone hurt you?”

She shrugged. “I think there was six or seven of them. I can’t remember now.”

“Praise Jesus! Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Did they hurt the baby?”

Surprisingly, other than the smack to the face Spencer had given her outside of his apartment, he and his friends hadn’t raised a hand to her, and had avoided touching her stomach as if it had been infected by disease. “No. No doctors. The baby is fine. He’s still moving and doing his thing.”

Heather’s sigh bordered on relief, but the worry remained in her blue eyes. “You can’t stay here.”

She half-smiled. “No shit.”

“What can I do for you, honey?” Heather asked, and held her hand.

She glanced to their joined hands. Hers looked rough, veiny and frail in comparison to Heather’s soft pudgy one. She was almost nineteen and had the hands of a fifty-year-old woman. If she didn’t do something quick, she’d die out here. Old before her time. Alone. And what of her baby then? Would he be jostled from foster home to foster home? Unloved, uncared for, another statistic, another lost soul?

A fresh tear slipped down her cheek. “Can you help me go home?”

Heather’s smile brightened her face and tears filled the woman’s eyes. “Where’s home?”

“Ohio. I don’t mean for you to take me there. Just help me call my family. I’m hoping they’re not still mad and will come get me.”

“Your family doesn’t know where you are?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to them in over three years.”

“I don’t know what I would do without my family. And I’d love to help reunite you with yours. You’re going to need help with the baby. Are your parents still alive?”

“I hope so.” She couldn’t bear to even think otherwise. After all of these years and all of her mistakes, if she couldn’t look into her parents’ eyes again, or feel their arms embrace her—she refused to go there. There was no point in worrying until she came face to face with them.

Heather smiled. “A child should know his grandparents. And I’m going to help make sure that happens.” She gave her hand a slight tug. “Come on. First things first. We need to get you clean clothes that actually fit, a nice warm shower and a big breakfast.”

She hadn’t had a shower in over a week, and couldn’t wait to wash away the fear, the self-loathing and the lingering smell from the men who had raped her last night. With Heather’s help, she pushed herself from the cement and slung her backpack over her shoulder. When her tank top rose up, exposing her belly, she quickly tugged the material down and tried to use her denim jacket to cover her skin. “Clothes would be nice. Magazines have pictures of movie stars showing off their bumps, but this looks horrible,” she said, still trying to hide her stomach.

Heather took off the light sweater she wore and handed it to her. “Wear this for now. I know I’m a lot bigger than you, but I have maternity clothes from my last pregnancy. My pants won’t fit you, but I have a few tops that should work.”

Chloe set her backpack down and shoved her arms into the sweater sleeves. Warm from Heather’s body heat, putting on the sweater was almost as good as being hugged. When was the last time someone had hugged her? She couldn’t remember. Over the past three years, physical contact had boiled down to sex. There had been no cozy embraces or sweet kisses from the men who had paid to have sex with her. Those men were cold, sometimes abusive and had treated her with utter disrespect, using her body to take care of their lust. But she’d chosen to sell herself. How could she expect anyone to respect her, when she’d had no respect for herself?

She glanced to Heather as they made their way out of the alley. With her talk about God, Chloe had dismissed the woman as a Bible-thumper and had only intended to use her for the food she’d provide. Now that they walked side by side, she realized she’d been wrong to label Heather. The woman was compassionate and kind. She was going out of her way to help a used up, drugged-up, pregnant whore. Chloe didn’t know how she could ever return the gift Heather was giving her today—the chance to go home, the opportunity to see her family and to have her baby in a safe environment. The chance to free herself from hell.

The baby moved. She touched her stomach and regretted how high she’d been when Roman had taken her to the clinic for the ultrasound. She didn’t even remember what the baby had looked like or even the sound of his heartbeat. The only strong memory she had was wishing she would have been able to abort. Her eyes stung with tears. How could she have ever had those thoughts? How could she have treated her body so badly knowing a life grew inside of her?

“There’s no need for tears,” Heather said, and took her by the elbow. “I promise. Your baby is going to be just fine.”

Would he? While she didn’t drink, she had done heroin on almost a daily basis. If she’d been able to afford it, she would have kept smoking, too. She also hadn’t eaten right. Combined, all of these things could affect the baby. She’d known this when she’d shot up, when she’d lit a cigarette, skipped meals. But she hadn’t cared. She wiped a tear from her cheek. So selfish. So very wrong. She hoped Heather’s prayers were answered and it wasn’t too late—for the baby and for her.

After turning down several side streets, and into an area she wasn’t familiar with, Heather pointed to a building. “I live here with my husband and kids,” she said, but walked past the entrance.

The roar of the L moving along its tracks had Chloe looking at the woman in disbelief. Based on her newer clothes and generosity, she’d assumed Heather lived in a nicer part of Chicago, nothing ritzy, but better than this.

“I know it’s not much,” Heather said, as if reading her mind. “It’s loud, but you get used to it. Besides, it’s temporary. Me and my husband plan to move the family soon.” She led her down the alley between her building and the next, onto another street. “Since our apartment is so small, I had to rent a storage unit from the place just around the corner. It’s where I’m keeping all of the baby stuff and maternity clothes I’m not using.”

“Are you going to have more kids?” Chloe asked, ignoring the tightening in her chest. The surrounding buildings swallowed the sunlight and cast dark shadows. The storage company looming in the distance below the L tracks stood tucked away and cut off from any major intersections or high traffic areas. She could easily envision some piece of shit jumping out at them and attacking.

“I’d like to have another baby.” Heather led her through the rusty gates without hesitation. “My husband doesn’t want one, though. But I’ll talk him into it,” she said with a big, dimpled smile. “He loves babies.”

“Does your husband know you pick up strays?”

Heather chuckled. “Does he ever. It doesn’t bother him much since he knows I’m doing God’s work.” She stopped in front of a closed steel garage door, then produced a key. “Here we are,” she said, unlocking the padlock.

God’s work
. Had God fated her to become a prostitute? To be a heroin addict? To be pregnant, alone, without money or any means to take care of herself or her unborn child? “How do you know you’re even doing God’s work?”

“He shows me the way.” Heather stopped and turned to her, then rested her hands on Chloe’s shoulders. “He led me to you. He knew you needed help.” She gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, then crouched and raised the steel door. “Now come inside and help me find a box marked maternity clothes. I’ve got a flashlight in the corner. Just give me a sec to find it.”

Taking cautious steps in order to avoid knocking into a box or baby stuff, she followed Heather inside the storage unit. She didn’t stray far from the outside, though. The darkness scared her. She’d been surrounded by it for so many years, she worried one day it would swallow her whole and she’d never see the light of day again.

“You said God led you to me,” she said, needing to keep the conversation going and to hear Heather’s soothing voice.

“That’s right,” Heather said from the corner of the dark room.

She stopped when her foot hit something soft. Blankets? A crib mattress? If Heather ended up not having any more kids, maybe she’d offer up her baby stuff.

“And that He knew I needed your help,” Chloe continued, growing bolder and stepping deeper into the unit. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, because you’ve been totally nice to me. I guess I’m just wondering what’s in it for you?”

“Oh, honey, that’s easy.”

Chloe stiffened. How could she have not heard Heather move behind her? Fucking heroin. With what Spencer and his friends had done to her last night, it was a wonder she’d been able to carry a coherent thought, let alone a conversation.

“How so?” she asked, relaxing. In a short while, they’d have new clothes for her to wear, she could wash the scum from her body and then eat a big breakfast. An omelet. Ham and cheese, if possible. Hash browns and rye toast would be nice, too. Afterward, she’d find the courage to call her parents. Her chest tightened again with a combination of fear and excitement. She couldn’t wait to hear her mom and dad’s voices.

Heather’s warm breath tickled her ear. Due to the remnants of the heroin, she didn’t flinch. Instead, she welcomed the closeness of someone who actually gave a shit about her and the child she carried.

“How so?” Heather repeated, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “He’s giving me your baby.”

Fear and betrayal gripped her by the throat. She quickly turned. The thin rays of light coming into the unit haloed Heather.

Her raised arm.

The hammer she held.

Instinct took over. Chloe moved to ward off the blow. The hammer hit her forearm. Pain shot up her arm and gave her a punch of lucidity. She drove her fist into Heather’s stomach. The crazy Bible-thumping bitch grunted and swung the hammer sideways, catching Chloe’s knee. Her leg buckled. She clutched her belly and used her other hand to catch her fall, then quickly tried to push herself upright and attack again. Only Heather was faster. She kicked Chloe’s hand, forcing her to drop to the floor again, then delivered another blow.

Heather loosened her grip on the hammer’s handle and nudged Chloe’s limp body with the toe of her shoe. The girl had put up a fight, but with God on her side, she’d been the victor. Now it was time to ensure she received her reward.

She crouched and gave the girl’s face a light slap. Nothing. Good. She ran her palm over Chloe’s matted, filthy hair, then winced when she connected with the large goose egg on top of her head. After what had happened to Missy, she’d been careful to avoid coming close to Chloe’s temple. She’d wanted the girl unconscious, not dead. The baby still had growing to do. Based on what Chloe had told her yesterday, she wasn’t due for another five weeks. At this point, the baby’s lungs were almost fully developed, but if the girl or her doctor were wrong, she couldn’t take the baby too soon. If she were forced to take the newborn to the hospital for medical care, there would be too many questions she couldn’t answer.

Not sure how long Chloe would be out, she rushed to the corner of the storage unit and turned on two battery powered LED lanterns, then carried them to the center of the room. After closing the steel garage door, she set her plan in motion. The bright light glowing from the lantern revealed Chloe’s home for the next three to five weeks. When she’d first spotted the girl, she’d assumed, based on the small size of her pregnant stomach, Chloe was only about six or seven months along. At thirty-five weeks into the pregnancy, the girl needed fattening up so the baby could also put on weight. Chubby babies, in her opinion, equaled healthy babies, and she’d do everything in her power to make sure this baby was healthy.

Starting with his mother.

After removing the sweater she’d loaned Chloe, she bent and hooked her hands in Chloe’s armpits, then dragged the girl to the twin mattress in the corner of the unit. The owner of the storage place was a lowlife scumbag. Upon meeting him, she’d been revolted by the way he had stared at her breasts. But, she’d kept her mouth shut. After all, the man had let her pay cash for six months use of the unit. The other storage places she’d checked had demanded she used a credit card for a deposit, along with a photo ID. The scumbag must have been desperate to rent, because he hadn’t asked for anything. But the unit had come with a catch. The last renter had abandoned their things, and the scumbag had told her that if she wanted to rent it, she’d have to remove the junk from the unit.

God had blessed her that day. When the scumbag had showed her what she’d be renting, she’d wanted to drop to her knees and offer a prayer of thanks. The last renter had left behind an old bed set, mattress and all. The mattress was stained and dirty, but the blankets she’d found in one of the boxes had been clean. She pulled Chloe onto the mattress, then reached for the safety harness Wayne had used during roofing jobs. The man hadn’t worked on a roof since sometime last year. When he’d asked about it last night, she’d worried he would press her as to its whereabouts. He’d been so suspicious and, in his defense, rightfully so. She’d been lying to him for a week. Those lies ate at her and she’d prayed for forgiveness every night. Until last night. Yesterday, God had answered her prayers when he gave her Chloe. Instead of asking for forgiveness, she’d offered prayers of thankfulness. Soon she’d be a mother. Soon they would be a family. And all would be right in their world.