Defending Her Dignity (Renegade Love Bodyguard Novel Book 3) Page 21

I nod and squeeze Isabel’s hand before Peter opens his door first and slides out. Sliding open the back door next, he gestures for us to follow. When I look up, he makes a point to show me the gun he’s tucked into his jacket. Yeah, asshole: message received.

  We form a solemn train, Fiona first, with Isabel and me behind her, her tiny hand still squeezed in mine, and Peter trailing behind us. When we get to room 6A, Fiona pulls out a key to unlock the door. When she opens it, Peter pushes us all inside and I’m instantly filled with a foreboding sense of dread. There are only a few cars in the parking lot, and no one saw us come here. I have no idea where we are, and my phone is still in my purse back in my car that we abandoned at the side of the road. We’re alone and I need to figure out a way to get us both out of here alive. And fast.

  32

  Yael

  “You,” Peter says, gesturing toward me with his gun. “Sit on that bed. Now.”

  He points toward one of the two twin beds in the small motel room. Each bed is covered in wrinkled polyester sheets with an ugly bamboo design. A large mirror, covered in stains and scratches, faces the two beds. A bright green, shaggy carpet covers the entire floor. We look like we’ve time traveled back to the seventies, everything is so out-dated and faded. The smell of mildew lingers in the air beyond the quiet humming of the overhead ceiling fan.

  I slowly sit on the bed, refusing to disentangle my fingers from Isabel’s. He crosses the room toward us, waving the gun. He’s erratic, and I can’t make the mistake of underestimating him. I take note of his weapon. His pistol alone shows he came here with the intent to kill. It’s a new issue: a Maxim 9 pistol. I immediately recognize it because it’s the first pistol created with a built-in silencer. It looks like something out of a sci-fi flick and if I remember correctly, it has a fifteen-round magazine. You don’t bring a semiautomatic 9-millimeter with a built-in silencer with you unless you plan to kill someone, discreetly and quietly.

  Shit. I force myself to keep taking deep breaths, even as the dire nature of my situation finally begins to sink in.

  “Isabel, you get off her,” he orders. “Go to your mother.”

  Isabel shakes her head as she squeezes my hand tighter. Peter’s face grows a frustrated shade of beet red. He lifts up his hand, as if to smack her, but restrains himself. “I am not going to ask again.”

  I give Isabel’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Isabel. Listen to your uncle,” I tell her, keeping my voice strong and even.

  My choice of words is intentional. Peter is clearly unhinged, but I want him to remember that he is currently holding up his own flesh and blood with a gun. And if Eva’s research is correct, it’s not his niece, but his actual daughter. I’m relying on an ounce of hope that Peter doesn’t want to kill her and that this is all a stupid ploy to get Lawrence to concede Monroe. But when I see the pure disdain in his eyes as he looks at Isabel, I begin to doubt that. I need a plan, and I need it fast.

  Isabel reluctantly releases my hand and sits on the small, faded floral couch next to her mother. Fiona wraps her arm around Isabel and pulls her toward her. Isabel stiffens under her touch, but Fiona ignores it and starts to lazily play with Isabel’s blonde curls, a content—and mildly deranged—smile on her face.

  Peter paces the small room and shoves his hand through his hair as he mumbles to himself. I’m quickly beginning to think that this whole abduction was not the most well-thought-out plan. And I was likely an afterthought and unplanned addition. Which means that I am most likely not part of whatever half-baked plan they do have concocted. That doesn’t leave me with the greatest odds of getting out here alive. What I need to do is get him talking, and to figure out what their plan is so I can stay a step or two ahead of them. And with that mindset, this cramped, suffocatingly small room transforms into a chessboard, and we all become pieces to be moved across the board, in whatever way keeps both me and most importantly, Isabel alive. And now it’s time now to make the first move.

  I bite down on my lip as I quickly survey the room, looking at all the exits. Peter is blocking the way to the door outside. There’s a large window behind the couch that leads back to the parking lot. A door on the opposite wall is closed, which I assume leads to the bathroom. A white phone sits on a nightstand between the two beds.

  “What’s the next step in your plan, Peter?” I call out, attracting his attention and making him momentarily pause his frenetic pacing.

  He snaps his head up to look at me, his blue eyes look wild and feral. “I’m thinking!”

  I shake my head. “You don’t want to do this,” I tell him. “You didn’t want to do any of this. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Isabel.”

  “How would you know what I meant to do?”

  “Because you love Isabel,” I tell him, my words slow and deliberate. “Isn’t that right?”

  He looks toward her, the contempt obvious in his eyes, and he doesn’t answer my question.

  “He would never hurt her, if that’s what you’re thinking!” Fiona calls out from the couch.

  Though I try to contain my rage, it’s getting difficult, and I can’t fight the small snort of disbelief that escapes. “Really? Is that why he sent some hired hitman to shoot us all up?”

  Fiona’s brow knits in confusion and she shakes her head as she looks toward Peter. “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Shut up!” Peter yells at me, his face growing impossibly redder.

  “Peter, what is she talking about?” Fiona repeats, her voice growing louder.

  “Nothing! She’s lying!”

  “No, she’s not!” Isabel screams from the couch beside Fiona. “Someone came to our house with a gun and tried to shoot my dad!”

  Fiona lets out a sharp breath. “You tried to kill Lawrence?” she shrieks.

  Peter glares at her, his eyes narrowing into menacing slits. “I thought you said he didn’t mean anything to you.”

  Fiona shrinks under his penetrating glare. “He doesn’t,” she whispers. But it’s obvious by the way she looks away that it’s a lie, which further infuriates Peter.

  “Then, yeah I did do it. So tell me why would you give two shits if I had that asshole killed?”

  Fiona’s mouth drops open at his admission. She shakes her head. “No, Peter. Tell me you didn’t…”

  “Shut up, Fiona!” he screeches, cutting her off. He continues pacing the room, and I quickly try to devise a plan, knowing that with each minute spent here, he’s growing more and more erratic.

  “You’re hurting me!”

  I snap my head around to see Isabel squirming in Fiona’s arms. Fiona’s bright pink fingernails are digging into Isabel’s skin as she tries to hold her still.

  “Isabel, stop moving!” she shrieks.

  I act on impulse alone and leap off the bed toward Isabel. “Leave her alone!”

  Before I can reach her, I feel a pain at the back of my head as Peter grabs my ponytail and pulls me backward. He pulls me until the back of my knees hit one of the double beds and I fall backward onto the hard mattress.

  “Sit on the goddamn bed you little bitch,” he orders.

  “Peter! Cut it out with the language, please. Isabel is just a child!” Fiona cries from the couch, as she covers Isabel’s ears.

  Peter shoots her an annoyed look but doesn’t respond. On the couch, Isabel’s body shakes and she starts to cry. Fiona tries to quiet her, which only makes her cry harder. Peter stalks toward them, frustration and pure rage radiating off his body.

  “Shut her up!”

  Fiona glares at him as she tries to comfort Isabel. Frustrated, Peter tucks the gun into the waistband of his pants and grips Isabel by her shoulders and shakes her. “Quiet!” he screams at her, only eliciting another barrage of tears.

  Damning the repercussions, I dart toward him. I want his filthy hands off her. When I grab for his arm, he reaches back for his gun and slams it against my head. I hear a deafening crunch as I fall back onto the shaggy carpet. Wincing, I r
each my hands to my forehead to feel the spot where the gun collided with my head. It’s enough to leave me with a cut, and a trickle of warm blood coats my finger red.

  Isabel lets out a shriek when she sees the blood and before I can reassure her, she crawls toward me. I don’t get a chance to warn her before Peter kicks her back with his boot. She lands with a hard thud, her head striking the wall with the faded floral wallpaper. I force myself up to a seated position, careful not to move too quickly and earn another blow to the head.

  “Don’t hurt her!” Fiona shouts. “She’s your daughter!”

  Isabel’s eyes dart frantically to Fiona. “He is not my dad!”

  Fiona’s eyes soften and she slides off the couch to kneel down on the floor beside Isabel. “Isabel, baby, do you remember me? You know who I am?” Fiona asks as she strokes a hand over Isabel’s blonde curls.

  Isabel slowly nods, clearly uncomfortable under Fiona’s touch. “You’re my mom.”

  Fiona’s face lights up and she offers Isabel a radiant smile. “That’s right, baby. And that,” she says, pointing to Peter, “is your real daddy.”

  Isabel shakes her head. “No, he’s not my dad.”

  Fiona’s face tinges pink with frustration. She cups Isabel’s face in her hand, forcing her to look at Peter, her bright pink nails digging into Isabel’s cheeks. “That is your father,” she repeats, her voice high and stringy, reeking of desperation and frustration. She’s unhinged, probably as much as Peter is right now, and I’m stuck in a room with them. And I’m not the one here holding the gun. The odds are not really looking that great for me right now.

  “No!” Isabel screams as she clamps her hands over her ears and shakes her head, as if to shake the words out of her memory.

  Peter pushes his hand through his hair as he waves the gun. “Screw this little bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he stomps toward her and Fiona. “She has been nothing but trouble!” He aims the gun at Isabel and before I can think, I lunge out and grab him by his feet, dragging him down to the floor. The gun flies out of his hands, dropping onto the carpet. I shove my elbow into his groin as I scramble off him to grab the gun. I’ve underestimated his speed, though, and he kicks me in the face, pushing me back. He manages to reach the gun and when it’s in his hands, he stumbles back to his feet.

  “You little bitch,” he screams as he aims the gun at me. I roll away, but I’m not quick enough. A high-pitched popping sound fills the room right before I feel a sharp, blazing-hot heat at my side and the all-too-familiar, acrid smell of gunpowder fills the room. I look down and see a dark red seeping from my side. The bastard shot me.

  Isabel screams again, a shrill sound, and Peter aims the gun at her.

  “No, don’t!” I scream.

  “I’m ending this now!” Peter shouts.

  Peter aims the gun at Isabel, but I can’t move. I crawl toward him, but I’m moving too slowly and he’s too far away. Clutching my side, I slide toward them. Everything seems to be happening in slow motion and all I can see is Isabel, her face white as she looks up at Peter. Searing, white-hot pain blinds me, but I still push forward until I hear a loud shout and a crash.

  “No, not her!” Fiona screams.

  “Fiona! Stop!” are the last words I hear, before another low whistling popping sound explodes in the air and a heavy weight covers me as everything fades to black.

  33

  Lawrence

  I hate hospitals.

  I never used to before. Never had a reason to. Isabel had been born in a hospital. This exact hospital, in fact. The last time I had been here, ten years ago, was to take her home. But today was different. Because there was a very real chance that it would be at this hospital, in this room, that I would find out the woman I had fallen in love with was dead.

  I wasn’t an idiot. I knew how bad it was. I could see the concern in the doctor’s eyes as he detailed the damage the bullet had caused when it entered Yael’s side, how it had torn through her stomach and they needed to operate immediately. That had been six hours ago.

  It’s been at least an hour since we had heard any update. Daphni, Roman, Gabby, Daphni, Oded- they all came immediately. Together we set up vigil in the private hospital room where the doctors had cleared Isabel hours ago. She had a bump on the back of head from Peter throwing her against the wall, but other than that she was okay. Aside from all the emotional trauma she had to endure thanks to Fiona.

  But I don’t even have the time or the energy to be angry at Fiona right now. I need to focus on being there for Isabel and making sure I can do whatever is in my power to have the woman I have unequivocally fallen in love with get out of here alive. Whatever deals I have to make, I’ll make. Anything to make sure I can have even just one more day with her to tell her how much she means to me.

  I look around the room, my eyes finding Isabel again. She lays in the bed, with Daphni curled up beside her. Roman is perched by the window, watching Daphni and Isabel, a mix of weariness and sadness on his face. Oded is sitting in the same chair he’s been sitting in for the last three hours. He doesn’t say much, and his expression never changes. Only when you look at his eyes can you see the worry and fear swirling within him.

  Gabby sits next to Liam on the small couch in the corner of the room. He has his arm wrapped around her, and her cheek rests against his chest. Her eyes are puffy, still red. Every once in a while, she’ll cry again, her emotions too overwhelming for her to keep inside as Liam gently rubs her back.

  And then there’s me. I can’t sit still and when I’m not pacing the long hallway, hoping to catch sight of Yael’s doctor, I’m in the room, checking on Isabel and suppressing the rage I feel for Fiona and Peter.

  I hate that they did this. I hate that my daughter had to witness her mother shoot her uncle a few feet away from her. Hate that she had to crawl to the phone to call 911 as her mother sobbed over her dead uncle’s body. Hate that she had to hold an unconscious Yael’s hand as the blood spilled out of her, staining Isabel’s white pants a crimson shade of red. It was too much for a little girl to go through. And knowing that Peter was in a body bag and Fiona was in jail still didn’t do much to temper my rage.

  Isabel stirs on the bed, shifting herself back up to a seated position. She wipes her sleepy eyes as she looks around the room.

  “Daddy?”

  She doesn’t call me daddy very often, only when she’s woken up from a nightmare, or is feeling especially apologetic and wants to get on my good side. I wish the latter was the reason she was calling me that now.

  “I’m here,” I assure her as I walk to her bedside. Taking her hand in mine, I press a kiss to her palm. “I’m still here.”

  “Did you hear about Yael yet?” she asks.

  I shake my head, doing my best to be strong for my little girl. Though inside, I feel like I’m breaking. It’s been hours and no news.

  “Not yet, baby,” I tell her.

  She nods, biting down on her lower lip. “Is Mom going to jail?”

  I slowly nod my head. “I think so, kiddo. She needs to get some help.”

  Isabel nods somberly. She looks around the room, then back to me. “I need to tell you something, Daddy,” she whispers.

  I nod and lean forward. “What is it baby?”

  She pauses a moment before bringing up her eyes to look at me. “Daddy, Mom told me something.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “She said you weren’t my real dad.”

  I feel the air rush out of my lungs. I force myself to keep it together, not to let Isabel see the panic on my face. I have to keep it together for her. She’s been through enough. I crouch down next to her and level my face with hers.

  “She said Uncle Peter was my real dad,” Isabel finishes.

  I nod, taking a second to collect my thoughts. I can feel everyone’s eyes on the two of us, watching. There is a palpable air of anticipation sitting heavily in the room.

  “That’s true,” I confirm.
>
  I hear Gabby gasp behind me as Daphni sits up in the bed, her eyes wide with confusion.

  “Lawrence?” Daphni asks. “What are you talking about?”

  I grab Isabel’s hands in mine, keeping my eyes focused on her. “I wanted to wait until you were a little older to tell you, kiddo. I’m sorry this was the way you had to find out.”

  Isabel’s face scrunches as she bravely tries to fight the tears streaming down her cheeks. “So, you’re not my dad?”

  I shake my head, my own eyes brimming with moisture. “No, of course I’m your dad. I was there when you were born, when you took your first steps, everything. You are every part of me.”

  “But you knew?” Daphni asks, pulling my attention toward her, now sitting upright in the bed next to Isabel.

  I nod. “I knew I wasn’t the father, but I didn’t know Peter was. It actually explains a lot. Fiona told me I wasn’t the biological dad when Isabel was about eight months old. She told me that she wasn’t ready to be a mom and she wanted to discuss adoption. But, it was too late,” I say as I cup Isabel’s cheek in my hand. “I had already fallen in love with you. No way would I ever give you up. So I gave your mom a choice, and when she decided that she wasn’t ready to be your mom, I made her sign some papers that gave me full parental rights.”

  Isabel’s body shakes as she cries, and I pull her into my arms.

  I squeeze her, hoping she can feel my love through the hug. “You may not be all my blood, Isabel, but you have all of my heart. You are imprinted on my soul. You are mine, and nothing can take that away.”

  I continue to hold Isabel’s shaking body against mine, letting her tears stain my shirt. As much as Fiona was a disaster, destroying everything in her path, I can’t deny that she gave me the greatest gift of my life. Isabel was my everything and it was thanks to Isabel that I became the man I am today.

  Behind me, I hear Gabby crying softly, and Liam whispering into her ear, trying to comfort her. Daphni scoots off the bed and comes to kneel down behind me, rubbing my back. A moment later, I feel a second pair of hands wrap around me and Isabel. My sisters and my daughter. The three women who mean the most to me. Still, I feel an ache in my heart for the one woman who is not here, who should be. Because she also has come to occupy a place in my heart. Only now, in the midst of this tragedy, do I fully realize how deeply I have fallen for Yael. And how far I’ll go to get her back.