Page 18 of Say You're Mine

No. I can't think like that. I have to trust in Cara, in the bond we share. She's smart, resourceful. She'll have found a way to protect herself, to stay one step ahead of my mother's machinations.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. I'll find her. No matter what it takes, I'll find her.

As the miles fly by, I let my mind wander to thoughts of Cara. Of the life growing inside her, a perfect blend of her and me. A surge of protective fury wells up inside me at the thought of anyone - my mother, Faulkner, anyone - trying to keep me from them.

I imagine holding Cara in my arms again, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. I picture her swollen with our child, glowing and beautiful. The image is so vivid, so real, that for a moment it's like she's right there beside me.

"Soon, baby," I murmur, the words carried away by the rush of wind through the open window. "We'll be together soon."

As the sun climbs higher in the sky, I know I need to ditch the truck. It's too risky to keep driving something that's surely been reported stolen by now.

I pull off at a rest stop, abandoning the vehicle in the far corner of the parking lot. From here, I'll have to continue on foot, at least until I can find another means of transportation.

As I walk along the side of the road, thumb out in the universal sign of a hitchhiker, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of my situation. Juniper Deveaux, heir to a vast fortune, reduced to thumbing rides like a common drifter.

But I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. I'd crawl through hell on my hands and knees if it meant getting back to Cara.

A semi-truck pulls over, the driver eyeing me warily. "Where you headed, son?"

I hesitate for a moment, weighing my options. Then I think of Cara, of the baby, and I know there's only one possible answer.

"Home," I say, my voice rough with emotion. "I'm going home."

As I climb into the cab, I feel a sense of calm settle over me. I'm on my way, one step closer to Cara with every mile that passes.

Watch out, world. Juniper Deveaux is coming home. And nothing will stand in my way.

Chapter six

Cara

My hand trembles as I brush the pale yellow paint onto the nursery wall, the cheerful color at odds with the icy dread pooling in my gut. I can't shake the feeling of being watched, an insidious prickle on the back of my neck that has me jumping at shadows.

Elaine's threat echoes in my head, a sinister loop that won't let me rest. "You're making a mistake, Cara. Waging war with this family, say goodbye to life as you know it..."

She knows about the baby. Knows that the child growing in my womb is a piece of June, the man she's determined to control at any cost. Would she really stoop to murder to get her way? To snuff out an innocent life before it even begins?

I don't put anything past that vicious bitch. Not anymore.

A creak sounds from the hallway and I freeze, my heart slamming against my ribs. Slowly, I set down the paintbrush, my fingers curling around the screwdriver on the drop cloth beside me. It's a pitiful excuse for a weapon, but it's all I've got.

Another creak, closer this time. The fine hairs on my arms stand at attention, every nerve in my body screaming danger. Someone is in the house. Someone who doesn't belong.

I rise to my feet, keeping my back pressed to the wall. Sweat beads on my forehead as I slide towards the door, cursing myself for not taking Louis's advice about installing a security system. The old brownstone suddenly feels as porous as tissue paper, a flimsy barrier against the malevolence that stalks me.

The nursery door swings open with an agonized groan and I raise the screwdriver, a scream building in my throat. A figure fills the doorway, tall and broad, features obscured by the backlight from the hall.

"Don't come any closer," I rasp, brandishing my pathetic weapon. "I'm warning you, I'll-"

"Cara."

That voice. Deep and honeyed, achingly familiar. It can't be...

"June?" I breathe, not daring to believe it. This has to be a trick, a sleep-deprived hallucination conjured by my desperate brain.

But then he steps into the room and it's him, it's really him. A little thinner, a little rougher around the edges, but undeniably my June.

The screwdriver clatters to the floor as I launch myself at him, a broken sob tearing from my throat. He catches me, strong arms banding around my waist as he buries his face in my hair.

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