“You’re telling me that I shouldn’t be worried some freak is after my girl and that I should be home?”
“What I’m telling you is that you need to turn into that little invincible shit you were as a kid. Do your job and do it quick. Then get the fuck home.”
“You have to know this isn’t going to do shit but make me worry about her.”
“I won’t let shit happen to her,” he vows.
“You better not, Axel. I know you love her. That can’t be argued, but I would die for that girl. I would die for her and kill any motherfucker who harms a hair on her head. I’ll talk to Krajack and see what needs to be done to cut our time here down.”
“You do that,” he says, and the line goes dead.
I drop the phone on the table, more confused than I was before I called home. All of these vague hints and half tells. Not one thing I can grasp that makes me feel confident that she is okay until I get home.
“He’s right, you know?” Krajack says from my side. “We pick and choose between training exercises that serve no purpose other than to sharpen your skills and those that eliminating the enemy. I was hoping to have four to seven more months left with you over here, but with this intel, I’ll do my best to cut that in half. Best I can do. Keep your head where it needs to be, Cohen. I can’t afford for you to lose your focus.”
“I appreciate that, sir.” I sigh with resignation that I’m stuck here and my girl needs me.
This is going to be the hardest next few months of my life.
Three months later
THINGS HAVE BEEN A LITTLE easier these last three months. I still miss Cohen, but shortly after I found out about the baby, he was able to get a message through e-mail that he would be home soon. Of course, his soon was in the next few months, but that was better than the unknown timeframe we had been working with since he left.
With the push of strength that his short e-mail gave me, I felt like I could face the world. We still didn’t know exactly when he would return, but we knew it would be soon.
Things at work have been easier, too. When I got back after my fall, Sway was predictably in his extreme mothering mode. He would only let me work half days, and those days that I did work were always light. No coloring or heavy treatments. I was restricted to cuts and the like. Actually, now that I think about it, he hasn’t let me do a color in almost a month. Every single time, he intercepts my client.
Devon wasn’t too happy about losing his star drama maker, but he worked it in as me being too depressed to work because of my lover having broken my heart.
Whatever.
Surprisingly, Don’s been the annoying one this time. He seems to think my sole purpose in life is to make his job easier by making sure I do things for ratings alone. He wants certain shots, or for me to do one of the lines he has written to give the show more drama, or the one time he asked me to fake a fight with Stella and fake slap her.
I don’t fucking think so.
Mark’s actually been the voice of reason this time. He joined me for lunch in the breakroom a few times before they left to go back to California, and I like to think we had some sort of a friendship. I gave him some pointers on how to win over the girl he’s been dating. I guess you could say I have a soft spot for the guy now.
Of course, they haven’t been around for almost two months. There was apparently a big issue with Devon’s production team back home. Some big-time embezzlement stuff with the higher-ups, and until they could recover some funding that was stolen, they had to pause filming. Last we heard from Sway was that today would be their first day back. I am looking forward to seeing them. I hope that Mark was able to use some of my tips to get closer to his girl.
Unfortunately, one thing that didn’t stop in the last three months was the weekly flower deliveries. They picked up about two weeks after the letter that was found on my car. So far, they’ve been impossible to track, always paid for with a prepaid Visa, and the order placed online. Maddox, the IT guru at Corps Security, has been struggling to actually nail down a location since whoever is actually placing the orders is smart about covering his tracks. So far, the orders have been placed in different locations all over the globe. Well, according the IP addresses, that is.
Needless to say, things have been a little on edge with no answers.
Between Lee and my brother, there has always been someone sleeping at our house. Dad had what already was a top-of-the-line security system replaced with one I still needed a manual to figure out. He’s gotten even worse since I started showing. It’s like my belly’s growing—the sign that the baby is in fact very real—kicked his protective tendencies into overdrive. That tangible sight was all it took. He went as far as to steal my car keys two weeks ago and demand that I let him pick me up for work from that day forward. That was short-lived and got him in the doghouse with Mom for almost a week.
Never a dull moment with him.
Another thing that has changed is my new friendship with Megan. I really feel terrible about my first impression of her when I thought that she was dating Cohen. She’s become a huge support and go-to person for advice. Chance told me that my friendship and the bond she can give me over my pregnancy has given her something to focus on, and he thinks it’s helping her heal. She has her moments, but I think he’s right.
“What are you going to wear today? Planning on showing off that adorable little bump for the cameras?” Megan asks from where she’s lounging on my chaise lounge in the corner of my room.
I look over at her in the mirror I’m using to fix my makeup. She has Molly, her adorable four-year-old daughter, bouncing on her feet with a smile dancing across her beautiful face.
“I think so. Now that I’m over that weird ‘I’m not fat—I’m pregnant’ stage, I find myself wearing the tightest things I can find just so I can show it off.”
“Dani?” I hear Molly say in her singsong voice. She sounds like a little angel. “Can I play with your jewsree?”
“Sure thing, tink.” I ruffle her blond curls when she skips towards my dresser.
“You know she’s going to destroy your jewelry box again,” Megan laughs.
“Eh, let her have at it. I moved all my valuable pieces after the last time. I swear she broke my heart with those tears. I almost told her she could have my grandmother’s hand-me-down pearls!” I tease.
“Tell me about it. I would probably give that girl anything she wants with just the smallest tear. God help me, she’s spoiled rotten.”