Page 10 of Hers to Control

I place a hand on my flat stomach and take a deep breath. I’ll be a better parent than my father ever was. I’ll keep my baby safe.

The thought should be calming, but when I exit the door and walk down the sidewalk, heading into town, the knowledge that all is well is barely a flimsy illusion.

Even before my little Peanut is born, we are already on the run. This isn’t safety. The same people that have haunted my life because of my father, are now haunting his grandchild before my Peanut has even taken her or his first breath.

Which means I need to run far and fast.Again.

This time, I don’t call Gianna. She’s already helped me once, and they’ve still found me. Plus, she might send Eric, and if there is anyone other than the Russians that I want as far away from me and Peanut, it’s him.

The father of my baby.

A father as bad as my own.

Best I don’t involve anyone else. The fewer people who know where I am, the lesser the threat. And worst case, I can always call Gianna with the burner phone Eric left for me if I get really desperate.

Twenty minutes later, I buy a train ticket back to Canada, hoping that will be what they least expect me to do.

The shabby one-bedroom apartment I find after crossing the border and spending one night in a cheap motel eats up a lot of my cash reserves, but the sub-contract from Melissa, a college student who is moving in with her boyfriend and wants to cover her last month of rent, doesn’t require any official papers to be signed and the girl is happy to get the payment in cash.

I look around the tight space. The furnishing is rudimentary at best. A small couch. A half kitchen with a dirty coffee maker, and, in the tiny bedroom, a plain wooden bed-frame with a mattress but no box spring.

Not great, but it’ll do.

Since coffee is out of the picture for now, I store the machine in a cupboard and get ready to walk to the store and buy some essentials. Coffee is something I gladly abandon for the next couple of years, but food isn’t optional.

The thought of breastfeeding tugs at my heart. I can’t picture it yet, but somehow the idea feels right.

Grocery bag in hand and wallet in my backpack, I open the door and step out of my newest refuge. My heart all but stops when I collide with a hard chest.

“Mia, let’s have a chat.”

Chapter Five

Eric

She looks pale. Pale and pissed.

“What are you doing here? And how the hell did you find me?” Mia throws the words my way as if I were the one who fucked up. Which, I guess, I was, but I was hardly the only one.

“We need to talk.” I’m not about to tell her that there is a tracker in the burner phone I gave her. If she has any sense, she’ll figure that out pretty soon herself.

She shakes her head. “No, we don’t.” She takes a step back, probably to have enough room to slam the door in my face, but I don’t give her the chance. I move in on her, letting the door fall shut behind me.

It’s a flimsy barrier at best, but it’s all we’ve got at the moment. I’m not about to let the neighbors listen in on our conversation, though by the looks of this place, the walls are probably thin enough that they’ll hear us even with the door closed.

“What a shit hole,” I observe and Mia gets a stubborn expression.

“It was just fine before you got here.”

“You’re pissed at me? The last time I saw you, I was helping you escape the fucking Russian mob.” Well, and I knocked her up.

Maybe.

My eyes flit down to her belly. It’s still perfectly flat. Toned under her shirt which rides just high enough over her jeans that when she shifts, I can make out a tiny bit of skin.

I want to lick it.

The hunger in me roils to the forefront of my thoughts and I advance on her.

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