Page 133 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
Michael heaved out a sigh when the gates at her back were shut with a loud clang. “When’s the last time she had a dose?”
“Hospital. Evangeline Fairweather had her baby. A boy. Named it Albert or something. I took a peek at the thing before we went in for the grab. Cute kid. Lots of hair. A screamer.” From the corner of her eye, Jamison could see Bruce fiddling with a small pouch secured at his waist. “I thought Taylor would want us to snatch him, but I guess common sense took over finally.”
Michael snorted. “That woman has no common sense.”
When another syringe emerged from Bruce’s pouch, she tried to bolt, but Michael caught her easily. Securing her against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around her like a vice. “Don’t fight. This one won’t fully paralyze you,” he said calmly as Bruce speared her upper arm with the needle. “Trust me. It’s better this way. Less trauma to digest when your head’s clear.”
“Please, don’t. Please.” Unable to be brave any longer and realizing he was about to take her into the house, tears spilled down Jamison’s cheeks. “I can’t handle not being in control.”
The sympathy on Michael’s handsome face dissolved into a look of disgust. “Youcan’t handle not being in control? Imagine living your entire life that way.”
The darkness pulsed around them. The laughter and the lights from inside the house swirled before her eyes. The two obscure women stood on the porch now, looking around as if seeing the smaller version of Haven for the first time.
She slumped against Michael, the meds hitting their mark fast. “You chose to go into the military, so it’s your fault you allowed them to control your life.”
“How adorable. You still think this is about me.” Michael leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It’s not. Now be my good girl in there, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Selah had once said that insubordination was a key personality trait of hers, and as she stared up at the twinkling stars overhead, Jamison thought it was time to use what she once thought of as a stubborn defect to her advantage. It was the only way she could mentally cope with this. “You mean you’ll tell me about CeCe.”
“No one called her CeCe except Toby and that psychotic whore of his.” Michael’s lips brushed her ear as he grinned. “Her name was Cecilia, and she was mine.”
“Yet, you’re helping them?” Jamison panted up at the sky, her head heavy on her neck. “The people who celebrate the man responsible for murdering her?”
A few Zanmi members stumbled out onto the porch. Loud and obnoxious, the men’s voices were slurred from drinking.
“Bruce, get inside. Move the girls into the room with Damon and put Mark on the door. Warn him not to let any of those fuckers in there.” Michael lifted his head to issue the order in a low voice. “Emmett already tried to get to Emily again tonight, and I arrived just in time.”
“Got it,” Bruce said, stuffing the used syringe back into his pouch. “Is Claudia still in the dog crate?”
“Yeah, but there’s no fight in her tonight,” Michael replied. “Well, there’s enough in case Taylor or one of those tweaked out Zanmi sisters tries to get to Damon. We can let her lose on them.”
The one thing we can rely on is Emily and Claudia protecting their brother.” Bruce paused. “What about Kris?”
“Third room in the main hall.”
Jamison’s legs went out from under her as she listened, and Michael didn’t hesitate, swooping her up to carry like a bride. At the same time, Taylor marched outside, her heels banging loudly on the wood as she talked on the phone.
“It was just a plane!” she screeched. “Why are you so upset?”
Bruce moved on, carefully avoiding Taylor as he traveled up the steps and into the house.
“Wait, you’re where? No, I’m not in Florida. I’m… um… north of Florida.” Taylor’s loud pacing halted, and terror filled her voice. “Daddy… what? Ugh, fine. I’m near… Tulsa. Huh? What do you mean tomorrow? No! I can’t meet you for brunch tomorrow. Oh, you’re coming to Tulsa. Tonight. You’re coming to Tulsa tonight?”
Jamison shivered in Michael’s arms when he nuzzled her neck in an almost playful manner. “Not a word out of you,” he whispered. “Understand?”
Taylor disconnected the call and let out a frustrated yowl, chucking the phone across the porch. “This cannot be happening! Why should I meet him, anyway? He reduced my fucking allowance, basically leaving me todiein poverty.”
“Tulsa is almost a three-hour drive.” Michael walked down the path, and Jamison turned her face into his chest, not wanting Taylor to see her crying. “Are you going tonight or first thing in the morning?”
Taylor didn’t answer, the click-clacking of her heels telling Jamison she was coming down the steps towards them. “Isn’t this cute? The dress. The house. The handsome groom. Too bad it’s the wrong bride.”
The grip on her body hardened, Michael’s fingers digging into her muscles. Jamison refused to squirm, knowing it was best if she didn’t draw Taylor’s attention.
“Don’t fuck with me tonight, Taylor,” Michael snapped.
“Oh, get over yourself. You’re enjoying this. Fucking her as a fuck you to the Fairweathers? It’s the perfect revenge.” Taylor released a huff. “And I guess I’ll go early in the morning, but you have to promise not to have sex with her until I get back. I want it to hurt and have some fun ways we can really make this bitch suffer.”
“I can do that.” Michael adjusted his hold. “Besides, I need to take her upstairs for a family reunion. I know her cousins will besohappy to see her.”
