Page 57 of Hateful Union

I end the call and sit back on the sofa, bringing my legs up to my chest and resting my head against my knees. All I can do right now is wait. Gabby’s talking softly on the phone to her dad; they’ve spoken more in the past few weeks than they ever have and I’m glad that they’ve finally gotten their relationship on track. I know that she wanted him in her life a lot more than he had been, but was finding it hard to bridge that gap that had built up over the years.

“How did it go?” I ask her once she’s off the phone.

She shrugs, “He’s going to find out what he can, he’s also trying to find a cop that we can trust. Right now he’s worried about the both of us.”

“He’s not the only one, Mal’s on his way home.”

She raises a brow in question and I quickly rundown what’s happened. When I’m finished she’s staring at me with wide eyes and her mouth open. “What the hell’s up with your mum?”

I shake my head. “I’ve no flipping idea, she freaked the hell out. And why is she tracking me?”

None of this makes any sense. My stomach is in knots. The dread of what’s to come is making the bile rise once again. I scramble off the sofa and rush to the bathroom. And just like the previous four days, I find myself on my knees, worshiping the toilet seat as I heave and gag while throwing up what very little I had left in my system.

“Oh, Ray-Ray, are you okay?” Gabby cries as she presses a cold cloth to my neck. I hadn’t heard her come in after me.

I nod, “The sooner this is all over, the better. God, I hate this.” Tears sting my eyes and I swallow back the sob that’s lodged in my throat. “Why is he such a monster?”

She shakes her head, “I don’t know, but, Ray, you’re nothing like him. You’re pure and sweet. You’re amazing, loving, and the best friend a girl could ever want.”

I give her a weak smile. Appreciating that she believes that. “I hate him so much.” I never thought that I could. In the past few months my world has been shattered. I’ve lost one of my best friends and found out that my father isn’t the man I thought he was; instead he’s a monster that even horror writers wouldn’t write about.

“We’re going to end this, Ray, I promise you that. Our end game hasn’t changed. We’re going to see this through. For Mayer.”

I nod and take a deep breath. “For Mayer,” I repeat, hoping that he’d be proud of what we’re doing. “And for all the women, they need to be free of him and have a future.”

I hear the door opening and both Gabby and I freeze, her eyes are wide and filled with fear and I’m pretty sure that if I were to catch a glimpse of myself that I’d look exactly the same.

“Mo stór, it’s just me and Christian,” Malcolm calls out.

Both Gabby and I deflate. God, we’re both nervous wrecks.

“In here!” I yell. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

Of course he doesn’t wait, his footsteps pound through the villa until he’s standing at the bathroom door. His gaze firmly on me. “Again?” The concern is etched on his face.

I nod, “Once this is over, it’ll go. I’m just stressed and scared.”

His brows furrow and his eyes narrow, he doesn’t seem to believe that. I don’t have time to query what he’s thinking, I know that Mum’s on her way here, so we don’t have long to talk. He walks over to me and helps me to my feet, Gabby silently exits the bathroom leaving us alone.

“You’re here,” I whisper, surprised at how quickly he got here.

His hands frame my face. “Mo stór, I’ll always be here.”

Without meaning to or even thinking about it, my body sags against his and my arms slide around his waist and hold him tightly. “What does that mean?” I ask, he’s been calling me it since he arrived at the villa.

He frowns, “What does what mean?”

“Mo store,” I reply trying to replicate what he’s been saying.

He smiles brightly at me, the love shining in his soulful green eyes. “Mo stórmeans my darling or my dear.”

My heart melts at his words. God, that’s beautiful.

“You like that?” he whispers and I nod, unable to speak right now. “Good, because Raylee, you aremo stór.” He moves in closer to me, his lips pressing softly against mine. “Mo grá thú,” he whispers.

“What does that mean?” I breathe.

“You are my love. It’s our way of saying, I love you.”

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