Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance) (101 page)

“Are you worried about something in particular? I mean, all first-time parents worry. That’s what all the women at school tell me, anyway. Everybody reads the books, wonders how to raise a child. You’ve got to feel through the dark your first time.”

“I wonder if growing up without parents will make me a bad parent,” I say outright. I have a feeling that Dee is going to keep probing, and she’s the type of woman who when she wants something, she gets it eventually.

“You don’t need to have had good parents to become a good parent,” she says. “I’m going to be a good mother, and I can’t even remember Mom. And Dad…”

“Bad parents have to come from somewhere. There’s enough of them around.”

“Don’t be so cynical, Duncan,” she chides. “Come on, let’s change the subject.”

“We can’t get complacent,” I tell her as we walk through the sliding glass doors to the supermarket.

“I know,” she whispers back. “He won’t stop.”

Bright headlights momentarily illuminate us from behind, and I turn over my shoulder, see LED headlights of some expensive car.

The car’s red brake lights are now all I can see, and it drives out of the parking lot. I wonder if I’m starting to get too paranoid.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just… feel like we’re being followed sometimes.”

“You’re as bad as I am.”

I grin at her. Together, we shop, load up a trolley. The fighting money has allowed us to buy better foods, allowed Dee to stick to a healthier diet. For the baby.

I eat the same things she does, pretty-much, though a lot more protein. It helps her stick to it, and eating healthy is something I’d do anyway to keep my body in fighting-form.

But even so, I don’t have access to the facilities, the supplements I used to. Already I can feel that I’m losing some of that razor-sharp edge, that my quick-twitch muscle fibers are less springy than they were.

It’s amazing how quickly the body strives to achieve homeostasis; the tendency to return to a stable, efficient baseline.

I’ve had to adjust my eating, limit my energy intake, since I’m not burning three-thousand calories a day training anymore.

It’s been an adjustment, like everything else.

We do our shop, get Dee a treat that she’s earned, some vegan tofu ice cream. She says she’s had it before, that it’s not as nice as the real thing, but in a pinch as a healthier alternative that is as good as it gets.

We leave, load the car, and even if only for a moment, Glass becomes just a distant worry. We
are
getting comfortable. We’re settling in to life together.

I always wanted this, a life alone with Dee where we could both be happy, where we could both be, in a way, out from under the shadows of our pasts.

But when I spot a white SUV, I’m only reminded of the Mercedes. The feeling of comfort, this time, is short-lived. I continuously check the rear-view mirror until Dee asks me what’s up.

“Remember a white Mercedes?” I ask her. “Those LED headlights? The really bright ones?”

She shrugs. “Kind of, I guess. It’s familiar, anyway.”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding slowly. “I’ve seen that car a couple of times already. I think I saw it tonight.”

Dee tenses up. “Are you sure?”

I grind my teeth together, shake my head. “No, it was dark, and before I got a good look it was driving away.”

“Damn,” she says, looking over her shoulder out of the rear windshield.

“I can’t see if we’re being followed,” I say. “There’s too much traffic on the road.”

“I wondered why you took this route. It’s quicker to go around the park the other way.”

“I wanted to hit a four-way crossing,” I say, slowing down for a red light. But I see a break, gun the engine, and take the turn across traffic. It’s reckless, I know, but it’s one way to be sure.

“Jesus,” Dee says, clutching onto her seat in between her legs. “Tell me you’re going to do that next time!”

“Sorry,” I say to her. “I only just saw the gap.”

She turns around. “No other car followed.”

“Think we left them behind?”

“I don’t know. You really think we’re being tailed?”

“This is your father we’re talking about, right?”

She nods.

“Then it’s possible.”

I drive us back to her apartment, but steal another resident’s parking space, one that’s covered under shelter.

“Why are you parking here?”

“Just want to hide the car more. They can’t see it from the road from here.”

“You’re pretty spooked.”

“It’s just a feeling,” I say. “You know… You go on up first, I’ll get the shopping.”

“Geez, I can carry a
bag
, Duncan. Don’t forget, I have to carry kids at work.”

“No, go get changed, get comfortable. I won’t be a minute. I want to look up and down the street anyway.”

“Okay,” she says, getting out of the car. I watch her from my seat. She’s got a habit of rubbing her belly as she walks, almost as if she’s trying to soothe baby Thom. I wonder if he is aware of it.

I reach into the back seats, pull out the shopping bags, and start walking toward the gate of the complex.

It’s not that I expect to glean anything looking up and down the street. If anything, it’s an attempt to calm myself so I don’t project my paranoia, so it doesn’t stress out Dee.

But I notice a white convertible parked on the street outside the complex. Tinted windows, and some custom work done to the body, the three-pronged star on the hood.

I can’t be sure if it’s the same car, and digging into my memories I can’t get a picture if the previous cars I saw had four doors or two.

But nevertheless, I’ve never seen that car parked on this street before, and it’s already dark. I set the bags down onto the ground, move out of line of sight of the gate, and then jump and pull myself up the brick wall surrounding the complex.

I see the bright orange burn of a cigarette through the front windshield.

I watch the car, alert, a sixth sense inside me going off like mad. It’s
definitely
the same car.

A moment later, the car pulls out, drives off down the street, it’s sleek visage at odds with the deep rumble of its powerful engine.

Shit!
He must have seen me.

I drop down from the wall, sprint up the steps.

I burst through the door. Dee is standing at the kitchen counter, rolling some rice that she’s taken out of the fridge.

“I thought we could make some sushi with the left-over rice,” she says over her shoulder. “Just add some white vinegar to it, and—”

“Dee!”

She spins around. “What’s wrong?”

“Get your suitcase.”

Her eyes widen, and without saying a word, she drops everything she’s doing, goes straight to the bedroom.

I reach under the sofa, pull out the pistol. It’s loaded, safety on. I push it through my belt at the small of my back.

I take two four-liter bottles of water and line them up at the door, then open my duffel bag to check the cash briefly. I throw in a change of clothes, and Dee comes out of her room, small two-wheeled luggage in tow.

“He’s here? My father?” Dee asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I saw that fucking car again.”

“Are you sure?”

“They drove off when they spotted me watching them.” There’s this moment where a ripple of panic crosses her face, and I go to her wrap her up, kiss her head. “We’re getting out of here tonight, okay?”

“I’ll call Pierce,” she says. “Give me your phone.”

I toss it to her. “Keep him on the line.”

I shoulder the duffel bag, take Dee’s suitcase, and scoop up the bottles of water into my arm.

Together we’re out of the house, and I haul the suitcase up and take the steps down two at a time. I throw it all into the back of the car, wait for Dee to catch up.

“It’s ringing out!” she says.

“Try again.”

We get in, I gun the engine, leave the complex.

“I need directions!” I say to Dee.

“He’s not picking up.”

“Dial again!”

“Pierce!” Dee says urgently into the phone. “Duncan needs directions to the safe place. No, we’re not being followed.”

Bright white headlights blind us from in front of us, and I swerve the car into an alley.

“Actually, yes we are! Navigate us. How can we lose them?”

Chapter Forty One