“Mommy,” Gemma began with melted chocolate staining the corners of her mouth, looking innocent as if she hadn’t just eaten a handful of chocolate chips.
“Yeah, baby?”
“When is Mr. Pike coming back?” she asked the question so casually but when I didn’t answer right away, those big green eyes watched me carefully. Too carefully.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat and sighed. “He’s helping Uncle T-Bone and Auntie Faith, and his other friends with something really important.” It was a perfect non-answer.
And it worked. Gemma shrugged and went back to stirring the cookie dough with a wooden spoon that was nearly as tall as her. “I like Mr. Pike,” she began as if we were picking up a thread of conversation. “He’s nice and he smiles at me lots.”
I thought about all the times I’d seen them together and she was right, Pike always wore an amused smile as if he couldn’t believe she was real. It was a look that perfectly mimicked how I felt about my little girl. “Yeah,” I agreed. “He does.”
Gemma slid the bowl in my direction, silently asking for more chocolate chips, smiling when I gave her what she wanted.
“And he never yells at you, not even when he’s mad. Daddy always scared me when he was mad.”
Her words knocked the wind out of me because it was my worst fear come to life. She remembered more than I guessed about our life with Marcus. I hoped, hell I prayed, that she remembered nothing. Hoped that the first three years of her life would be memories lost to time. My hand went to her shoulder. “No sweetheart, he doesn’t.” Not when he was frustrated withme or angry at the world, he didn’t yell. He was firm and he could be grumpy as hell, but he was a kind man. “No more stirring,” I told her once I got my emotions in check.
Together we formed the cookies and put them on baking sheets, a job that allowed Gemma to stay up later than usual. She was grateful and giddy, until her lids began to slide shut sometime after the second batch.
“Okay, munchkin, time for bed.” I waited for the expected whining and bargaining but none came.
“Okay,” she said around a yawn, raising her hands for me to pick her up.
I knew I’d properly worn her out when she let me brush her teeth without any push back. She accepted one bedtime story as my limit and then fell asleep before we reached the end, and she didn’t even ask for a glass of water, which was her usual ploy to delay bedtime. I sat on the bed and watched her, so innocent and peaceful, until her breathing deepened and she was asleep.
I made my way downstairs to finish the final batch of cookies in silence, and I took my time cleaning the kitchen because what else was I going to do? Three dozen cookies later, there was still no word from Faith.
No word from Pike.
The silence started to press in all around me and then panic wrapped its arms around me and squeezed.
What if they were all dead?
What if Faith was dead too, and that’s why no one had called to let me know what was going on?
What if the Ghost Riders MC had won, and now they were coming for me and Gemma, and we were sitting ducks out here all alone and with limited firepower?
Suddenly, I was convinced that was the truth and I debated leaving the cabin altogether.Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself, slowly talking myself back from the edge. I couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t. The Ghost Riders didn’t know where I was.
It would be stupid to leave. I slowly sank into the sofa, relaxing as much as possible even as my mind was a jumbled mess. Just as I was starting to calm myself down a noise jolted me back.
There it was again.
Someone was trying to open the door.
My hands went numb, and my arms and legs tingled uncontrollably. My heart pounded and panic swelled within me, climbing up my throat until it was hot and scratchy.
Every instinct I had yelled at me to move, and I did. I sat straight up, my gaze darting around the room as I took stock of all the places potential weapons were hidden. The gun closet was too far away so I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, which in this case, was a baseball bat.
I crept towards the door with the bat in my hand. My heart pounded wildly and my hands shook but I gripped it tighter, waiting for the door to open.
The knob twisted again, and I stood there, trying like hell to slow my breathing.
The door opened and I swung the bat with all my strength.
The figure dropped to the floor with a grunt but I still gripped the bat tight, knowing the Ghost Riders wouldn’t show up alone.
“Holy shit!” a familiar feminine voice exclaimed, out of view but recognizable.
