Chapter 2
Christian
"Stand down. Go to your quarters. I'll call, if I need you," he said.
Sawyer didn't move a muscle, refusing to accept instruction.
"T told me never to leave you. I'll go to the control room and watch the cameras," the new hire replied.
So eager to please Taylor. This asshole has forgotten who signs his paychecks.
Christian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to tame his temper.
"Taylor isn't here. Do as I say. I'm not feeling well and I will not tolerate disobedient staff. Stand down."
"Yes, sir." Sawyer sheepishly marched toward the staff apartment, which had an entrance off the kitchen.
Goddammit. Nobody fucking listens to me, not Anastasia and not my mother fucking employees.
He pulled at his hair and paced the room for a couple of minutes, trying to calm himself.
He couldn't have a kid. It wasn't possible. Something about the timing didn't sit right with him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it didn't add up. The child wasn't his, and he shouldn't care about any of this, but the thought of another man impregnating Ana was like a stake to his heart. When he found the shithead who had knocked up his Ana, he would beat the bastard senseless.
But first, he needed to deal with Ana.
Before he knew it, he was tossing back one shot of bourbon, then another. He knew sitting in his penthouse drowning in alcohol wouldn't solve his problem. No, he needed to go to Montesano and rectify the situation, up close and personal.
He traded his suit for jeans, boots, cashmere sweater, and leather jacket. He found the R8 keys, went to the control room, and turned off all the cameras. With any luck, he'd make it to Montesano and back before anyone noticed he was gone.
Being alone behind the wheel of his R8 was empowering. He relished having time to think about what he'd do to Ana. He recalled her squeamish reaction when he'd mentioned his desire to claim her ass; yep, that would make a fitting punishment. He'd have to get her away from her Montesano home, away from her father and the little intruder. Then he'd work her up, hold her down, and enter her from behind.
But that's rape. You're a piece of shit, Grey, but you're not that person. It's safe, sane, and consensual all the way. But she needs punishment. Think, think, think. What's the one thing you can do that will hurt her the most?
He thought of the kid, the damned infant she was smiling down upon in the photos Welch had delivered. Mothers love their offspring more than anything on Earth. Maybe the crack whore didn't, but most mothers do.
Before reaching Montesano, his growing rage led him to a decision.
He would kidnap her child. He would shatter her world. He would make her as miserable as she made him. It was the most fitting of punishments.
He didn't need GPS. He knew exactly how to get to her home. He'd made Taylor drive him there not long after he'd heard Ana had moved back to Montesano. He'd been angry with her back then, but not like this. No, his fury had reached a new zenith.
The small house was off a two-lane state highway in a rural area. There were no neighbors to see him.
Driving past, he noticed her father's truck parked in the side yard. It was the only vehicle. He didn't know if Ana had replaced her piece of shit Volkswagen with anything new. Perhaps she wasn't home right now.
He turned around and drove past the house again, parking on the shoulder, far enough away that his R8 couldn't be seen by Ana or her father. He worked his way through a wooded area to get a good view of the home. The noise of Ray Steele's whirring saws cut through the trees and obscured any sounds that might be coming from the house. There was no movement in the windows from his vantage point.
Without any clues as to whether or not Ana was home, he was at a loss, wondering if he had driven to Montesano in vain.
He was closer to the front of the house than the back, so he crept to the front porch and tried the front door. It was locked. He retreated to the woods again, this time walking deeper to get a view of the rear entrance.
The screeching saw blades continued, telling him Ray Steele was in the workshop and not a threat to his plan. He decided the time was right for a second attempt at entry. He didn't know what he'd do if he came face-to-face with Ana. High on adrenaline, he'd figure it out as he went.
As he stepped forward assessing the approach toward the back porch, she emerged.
She was frumpy and gorgeous, both at once. Dressed in drab godawful sweatpants, she carried a tray of what appeared to be food. Her glossy brown hair shone in the midday sun. She stopped for a moment and looked in his direction, then focused her attention on the tray. He watched as she entered the workshop and for a moment he forgot his hatred of her, instead feeling desire and longing.
Then he remembered the news Welch had delivered earlier in the day and realized the moment had arrived for retribution. If he'd been miserable when Ana left him, her misery would be multiplied a hundred fold.
This was his chance.
Within seconds he'd entered the unlocked back door. The interior of Ana's childhood residence was dated and worn, but tidy. A mouth-watering aroma from a crockpot greeted him as he passed the kitchen. Beef stew? In the small living room, he found a recliner that had been repaired with different shades of duct tape. The chair was parked in front of a small flat screen TV. Ray Steele's throne, he mused.
The last room he checked housed his target. He was grateful to find the infant asleep.
He recognized the well-worn handbag sitting on top of a chippy painted dresser. A plastic baby toy peeked from inside the purse.
On the opposite wall from the crib was a twin bed neatly made up with a familiar blue quilt, telling him this was where Ana slept. He took a moment to enjoy playing voyeur in Ana's world.
A pink bathrobe hung from a hook on the back of the closet door. He pulled it to his face and inhaled the fragrance, sweet and fresh, just like Ana.
No! Ana used to be sweet, but now she's just another deceptive bitch.
Once again he remembered his mission.
Focus, Grey. Take the kid and run.
The infant was smaller than he'd imagined. Mia, had been six months old when she joined the family, and somehow he'd expected this child to approximate what he remembered of his sister. Ana's child was swaddled tightly in a blanket, deep in slumber. He noted the red fuzz atop the baby's head.
Just a goddamn coincidence. The child can't be mine. I can't be a father.
He scooped up the infant. Carrying him like a football, he stealthily strode out of the house to the car, never looking back.
He was pleased that the child hadn't stirred when he'd placed him on the passenger side floorboard, but after turning out onto the highway, he quickly realized the child was rolling dangerously with every curve or stop.
He pulled over and looked through the car for something to keep the child in place. In the trunk he found a cardboard box filled with leather cleaner, spare wiper blades, and windshield wiper fluid. He dumped the contents into the trunk and placed the box on the floorboard as a temporary baby bed. The box was a perfect fit for the infant. He was proud of his ingenuity. It was one thing to steal Ana's baby and quite another to harm it.
He didn't know what to make of the peacefully slumbering baby-in-a-box. He once again contemplated the similarity between his hair color and the child's, but other than that the infant looked like any other. Hair color meant nothing, he decided.
Hello, Gentle Reader! In the next chapter we will finally hear from Ana. I am not on an update schedule, but I will post as often as my busy life allows. Thank you for the reviews and PMs. I enjoy hearing your thoughts. Hope you're having a wonderful weekend! All the best, P.
