Page 90 of Preying Heart
Disgusting pig. This entry was written solely for my mother’s eyes. Dad counted on her keeping the secret and pretending nothing was wrong. They both sacrifice so much for my career and would willingly go to their deaths if it means I get to be president someday.
Mom needs to stop asking questions. I don’t give a flying fag about the crypto or how much he paid. What I want to know is who Remi was crying over. And if it’s that bounty hunter, then he’s a dead man, too.
No one takes Remi away from me.
ChapterThirty-Four
Remi
I’m being followed. A car pulls alongside me as I walk toward my apartment building. I dodge into a nearby shop and watch it drive by slowly. I can’t tell exactly who it is, but the man in the passenger seat is wearing a gray suit.
As soon as the car goes by, I run out of the store and move in the opposite direction. I have no choice but to cut across a busy highway. Tires scream and horns blare, but somehow, I make it in one piece without even breaking a heel.
The sedan probably turned a corner to double back on me, but I’m close enough to my building to disappear into the underground garage. I march toward the elevator bank and reach for the button.
A sharp pain shoots through my lower abdomen, bending me double. It’s like a side stitch except it’s not at my side. It’s lower down where my baby lies. The elevator doors open with a smooth hum and I stagger inside. Two men in gray suits rush the door. I reach for the “close” button, pressing it at warp speed. It doesn’t close fast enough, and that’s when I recognize Gray Suit A but not the second fellow.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Gray Suit A says. “What happened to that thug who stole our van?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My abdomen clenches, shooting pain in all directions from where Gavin kneed me earlier. I moan at the pain and rest my forehead against the soft velvet-covered panel of the elevator’s walls.
“What’s wrong? You sick or something?” the second man asks.
“She had an abortion,” Gray Suit A says. “Of course she’s sick.”
“Better call the boss,” the second guy says. “He’s going to hold us responsible if she dies.”
“In that case, you better come with us.” Gray Suit A grabs one arm, and the new Gray Suit B grabs the other one.
“Please, guys, I’m bleeding. You need to take me to a hospital.” Panic seizes me, and my heart melts like a dripping wax candle. I’m having a miscarriage. I’m sure of it, and I won’t be able to help Slade tomorrow morning.
Except I warned Claudia. I sure hope she’s smart enough not to tell Gavin.
I collapse to my knees. “Let me call someone to help.”
“No can do, we’re supposed to keep you safe for the boss.” Gray Suit A picks me up, making my contractions worse.
Cold sweat covers me and I shiver, moaning in agony, while he carries me to a waiting car. I’m too sick and delirious to complain. I just want my baby to live.
Minutes later, they pull into the traffic circle in front of the emergency room. I’m helped out of the car and placed on a wheelchair, and then the thugs thankfully drive away.
I lose the baby. The doctor and nurses are sympathetic. They check inside of me to make sure everything is cleared out. It feels so invasive, and I’m left hollowed out. There’s no reason to keep me in the hospital, and I know I have to go. But where?
My mission is a complete and utter failure. I haven’t seen Slade. And I left my mother hostage in an unknown basement. If I don’t go through with pretending to put out a hit on Claudia, I might never get to take Gavin out. What exactly was my plan? To drive away with Slade and rescue my mom and hope Claudia buries Gavin for attempted murder? Or to record Gavin giving me and Slade directions to murder his wife. Yes, that has to be it.
But if we never attempt it, no one can charge Gavin for a crime that never happened.
My head spins like a top as they wheel me into a “recovery” room for me to rest and get hydrated before discharging me on my own recognizance.
Unfortunately, I’m not on my own because Gavin shows up while the nurse is checking my blood pressure. He rushes to my side, acting the perfect role of concerned relative.
“Mom sent me as soon as she heard,” he says. “She’s on her way, but the traffic is at a standstill coming into the city.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“And I’m going to see that you stay that way. I’ll take you home so Mom can pamper you.”
He’s specifically mentioning “Mom” over and over again to create a news story. The hospital workers recognize him as our district’s charismatic congressman. He’s always in the news for some cause or other. Besides, he has to put on the act of loving husband to Claudia so no one would suspect him of wanting her dead.
