Page 4 of Surprise Baby for the Enemy

Fuck. Fuck fuckfuck.

I thought he didn’t know me. He gave no hint at the bar or any moment after. How-howdid he recognize me based on a passing look through the gate of the Warwick estate six months ago?! Especially when both his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

I try to push him off, but of course he’s not budging. Shoving against him only presses me more firmly against his body. “Getoffof me!” I demand, but no dice. He’s got me well and truly pinned, and worse, I let him put me here. His electric blue eyes bore into me, and I contemplate throwing my head forward so my skull can break that perfect nose of his a second time.

“Are you going to call for your men?” Derrick asks. “I’m surprised they haven’t jumped in already. Were they planning to watch first?”

What?? “What men-”

Glass shatters across the bedroom, and hooded, masked figures pour in. Derrick shoves away from me so fast I nearly collapse. He has a gun in his hand- where the hell did he pull it from?!- but the dozen people that are suddenly coming at us are also armed. My mind goes blank, my body numb with horror at the sight of baseball bats and more guns.

Oh my god. I’m going to die.

Someone shoots twice, the explosion of the gun so loud it makes my whole body jerk. I scream, but it must’ve been Derrick who fired, because one of the thugs goes down. The next closest swings hard with his bat, and Derrick is forced to step back or get his brains knocked out. I fall back too, but instead of running out the door of the bedroom, I slam hard into the body of another intruder.

There are more coming in through the house. We’re trapped.

I scream again as the brute gets his arms around me and starts hauling me out the door. I see Derrick take a swing with the butt end of his gun, knocking another guy down. A stray baseball bat hits the back of his legs, knocking his knees out from under him. Another cracks against his side, and he grunts in pain.

The last thing I see before a sickly sweet cloth is pressed over my face is his body falling beneath a swarm of attackers.

I kick and struggle against the arms holding me, fighting not to take a breath of the chloroform. But if I don’t inhale, I’m going to suffocate, and my lungs are already screaming with panic. I scrabble with my nails, but whoever is holding me is wearing layers of baggy clothing and gloves. There’s nothing for me to latch onto.

In the end, I have no choice. I breathe, and over the course of a horrifying minute that lasts forever, my body gives out, and the world goes black.

CHAPTER 3

Derrick

When I open my eyes,I’m looking up at an enormous crack in the plaster of the ceiling, dark and ominous above the motionless blades of the hanging fan.

At first, I feel very little. But the longer I lie awake, the more sensation returns, and the more I wish I’d stayed unconscious.

My headhurts. There’s a crusty feeling on my temple, cheek, and jaw that I know is dried blood. The right side of my ribcage feels like it’s been bathed in lava. When I shift my legs, pain shoots through my left knee and thigh.

Whoever the fuck those people were, they did not pull their punches.

Fuck, are Chance and Justice all right? If one of these people hurt my dogs, I’ll kill every last one of them.

The thought of them finally reminds me that I wasn’t alone in my house last night. My stomach drops.

What happened to Raleigh?

Hissing against the pain, I force myself to sit up, and immediately relief floods my chest. I’m lying on a stripped mattress in a room that is otherwise bare. The only window is boarded up by thick planks of wood, and faded wallpaper peels in long strips down the walls.

And Raleigh is lying beside me.

She appears unharmed, her purple dress wrinkled but intact. In sleep, her lips are slightly parted, her eyebrows wrinkled against some unpleasant dream. I wish I could tell her reality wasn’t far more terrifying.

It wasn’t her brother’s people following us last night. In fact, I’m starting to think whatever horror we’ve found ourselves in is my fault entirely.

The pain in my ribs doubles when I try to reach for her, but I ignore it. I think they’re bruised, not fractured. At least, that’s what I hope. My hand brushes over the soft skin of her shoulder, her collarbone. Faint bruises, like the impressions of fingers, have bloomed along her upper arm.

The sight of them makes my chest burn even more.

“Raleigh,” I say, keeping my voice low. I don’t know if someone is waiting on the other side of the door for us to wake up, but I’d like at least a minute to catch her up. I place my palm over the bruises on her arm, hiding them from myself. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

She gives a little moan, mumbles something about ‘five more minutes’ that sends more pain through my ribs.

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