A Tropical Rendezvous: A BWWM Interracial Bad Boy Billionaire Multicultural Romance (African American Romance) (39 page)

When he pulled up to her mother’s house, the front door was already open. Police cars sat out front. He rushed up to the house, pushing inside as an officer held a hand to his chest. Janet told them it was okay and they let him through.

“What happened?”

“Stacey went for a walk this morning, but she didn’t come back. I’ve been calling her cell all day, no reply. Something happened to her. I found a note,” the woman said as she blew her nose into a tissue.

Ryan turned to a cop standing near him. “Can I see the note?”

The man nodded slowly. He reached onto the coffee table, picked it up inside of its plastic bag. Ryan took it gently. His eyes roamed over the white paper with the looping script. The note was simple, short and clearly addressed to him.

You took my happiness from me. Now, I’m taking it from you.

Images of Desmond instantly popped into his mind. He couldn’t be sure, but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that it had to do with his death. Ryan dropped the note as if it had suddenly caught on fire. He turned, walked out of the door despite Janet calling after him.

Ryan pulled off, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Everyone who slipped into his lane quickly moved out of his way. Ryan paid attention to nothing, but his destination. He pulled to a stop in front of a white house, hopping out so quickly that the old injury in his leg began to throb. He ignored it.

His fist hammered against the wood without stopping. When the door was opened, a wide eyed woman stood staring at him. Her eyes held a sheen of confusion as she frowned.

“Ryan, what are you doing here?” She asked as he pushed past her into the house. “What’s going on?”

“Where’s Stacey?”

“Your girlfriend? I don’t know. Ryan,” she grabbed his arms. “What is going on?”

A little girl wandered into the room. She had her mother’s big, brown eyes. The dark brown hair and small mouth were Desmond’s however. The little girl wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs as she looked back and forth between them. Kathy reached a hand down to pat the girls head. It made Ryan calm down.

“Someone took her,” he said slowly as he sank into a chair. The anger had left him exhausted, the panic still choking his throat as ran  a hand over his face. He told Kathy everything that had happened.

“I might know something,” she said slowly. Ryan’s eyes popped open as she continued. “Desmond’s father has been really upset, but it’s gotten worse over the months. He started saying things like you should have died, that it was all your fault that he was,” she  choked back tears as she looked away, “that he was dead.”

“Do you think that?” Ryan asked softly.

The woman shook her head. “I did, at first. I know Desmond wouldn’t want me blaming you though. He knew what he was doing when he signed up. It was just his time.”

Ryan pushed himself up out of the chair, his leg screaming from the pain. He wrapped Kathy up in a hug, her arms going around him as he did. When he pulled back, his face was stern.

“Where would he be?”

“After Maggie divorced him, he moved up to Tuscan. There’s a house out there on the lake. I’ll write the address down for you,” she said as she scribbled on a piece of paper before handing it to him. “You should really call the police.”

“I will, but I want to make sure she’s okay first,” he said as he headed to the door. “I’ll be around more.”

“We’d like that.”
Ryan was back behind the wheel. Tuscan was a little under two hours away. He ignored the speed limit whenever he could. When he pulled up close to the house on the lake, the sun was slipping behind the mountains throwing out a brilliant array or orange, red and blue light. He grabbed his pistol out of the glove box, slipped out of his car and made his way up to the house slowly.

All along the first floor were tall, glass windows. Ryan crouched low as he peered into the windows for any sign of Stacey. Room after room was cluttered, junky. Finally, he spotted her, but they weren’t inside of the house.

Down on the dock, Stacey was sitting in a chair. He could see the brown rope wrapped around his wrists, forcing her arms behind her back. Her ankles were tied to the legs of the chair as well. A black cloth was in her mouth. He could see that she’d been crying, black mascara stained her cheeks as Desmond’s father, Frank, stood in front of her with a gun in his hand. The sun reflected off of the silver of it.

Ryan moved closer. Stacey was whimpering. Frank paced back and forth, his lips moving without sound. He tapped the gun against the side of his head, laughed. Ryan knew something at that moment that something was very wrong. He edged closer.

“Stop whimpering! I’m not going to hurt you. We’re just waiting for Ryan,” the man said as he yanked the piece of cloth from her lips.

She coughed. “Why?” She asked, her voice trembling.

“So I can kill him, obviously.”

“Frank, I know you. Why would you want to hurt Ryan?”

“He took my son away,” he said as he gazed over the water.

“You know that’s not true.”

“It is true! When he gets here, I’m going to put a bullet in his chest. Then I’ll let you go.”

Stacey started trying to reason with him, but he cut her off. “Not another word, or the gag goes back in. This is between me and your boyfriend,” he said the last word with disgust.

The man turned his back. Ryan moved. He closed the distance between them quickly, but Frank must have heard the wood creak as he spun around, his gun raised. His fingers began to squeeze the trigger, but Ryan knocked the gun out of his hand. It disappeared into the water.

“Get on your knees, hands behind your head.”

“Screw you.”

“Please, Frank. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”

The man’s eyes began to water. “I don’t care. You took away my only child. If you’d just listened…”

“I know,” Ryan said softly. “I know, I screwed up. I have to live with that the rest of my life. There’s not a day I don’t think about it or Desmond for that matter. He was my brother. You have someone here who needs you though. Your granddaughter doesn’t need to lose another family member.”

Ryan’s words seemed to hit Frank hard. The man broke down. He walked over to Stacey making Ryan’s finger tense on the trigger. Slowly, the man began to untie her.

“I’m not dumb. I know what’s going to happen when the cops get here. I can’t go to jail, Ryan.”

Ryan watched in horror as the man tilted the chair back. Stacey’s eyes went wide as she tipped into the water, her arms still attached the chair. Frank tried to run past him, but Ryan’s instincts kicked in. The gun came down on the back of the man’s head and he crumbled into a heap on the dock.

Ryan ran past him, dove into the water. The waves crashed over his head as he swam down quickly. His eyes spotted Stacey, her eyes frantic as bubbles began to float from her mouth. He reached into his boot, pulled out the black pocket knife that he always kept there.

The more he cut into her ropes, it seemed like the faster she sank. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes filled with a fear that inspired him to move faster. Finally, the knife cut through, her hands floated forward. Ryan swam around. Her eyes were closed.

Panicking, he grabbed her and started for the surface of the water. It only took a matter of seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Their heads broke the surface and someone was reaching down, helping him pull Stacey up. He jumped up after her, immediately starting cpr. The flash of lights and siren sounds didn’t even enter into his brain as he pressed his lips to Stacey’s.

She woke up choking, crying. Ryan could only wipe her cheeks, kiss her head as she trembled against him. A paramedic jogged over and began taking her vitals.

“We’re going to take you to the hospital, get you looked over,” he said as he pushed a stethoscope to her chest.

“I’m pregnant,” she choked out, “make sure the baby’s okay.”

The paramedic looked as shocked as Ryan. He helped her onto a gurney before they moved her to the ambulance quickly. Ryan hopped up beside her, took her hand in his. As they closed the door, he had just enough time to glimpse Frank in another ambulance, the man still unconscious. He turned back to Stacey.

“How long have you been pregnant?”

“Three months,” she mumbled as she looked at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered, running a hand over her dripping wet hair.

“You were going through a hard time. Every time I brought up babies or marriage, you didn’t want to hear it.”

Ryan leaned over her bed, lavished kisses on her cheeks and lips. “I’m so sorry. I was so selfish. I can’t believe I almost lost you. You have to come home.”

Stacey smiled. “I was already counting on it.”

By the time they reached the hospital, Ryan was a mess. He paced in the room anxiously, refusing even a towel to dry himself off with. As he moved, Stacey’s eyes followed him, an oxygen tube hooked around her ears and into her nose.

“I’m sure the baby’s fine,” she told him for the fifth time.

“I’ll feel better when the doctor says it too,” he said, pausing long enough to stick his head out of the door and look down the hallway. A man was walking in his direction.

“Mr. Marshall, let’s step inside of the room.”

They walked in together, making Stacey sit up a little taller in the bed. Subconsciously, her hand fluttered to her belly, rubbing it gently. The doctor pulled a machine in after him. Leaning over Stacey, he had her pull up her gown while he squirted blue gel on her stomach. Ryan stood by anxiously. The lights were turned out and the machine turned on. Squinting, the doctor adjusted the glasses on his face as he rolled a wand over Stacey’s stomach. AFter several tense moments, he smiled.

“Listen,” he said as he turned up the machine.

A steady whooshing sound filled the room, fast and strong. As they peered at the screen, the baby shifted. Stacey’s eyes teared up as Ryan took her hand.

“Your baby is just fine. Developing very nicely in fact. I still want you to stay the night, just so we can keep an eye on both of you.” The doctor turned to Ryan. “You go home for the night. We can’t have you pacing up and down the corridor at all hours. Get some rest.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Go home son. Let her rest.”

Stacey patted his hand. “It’s okay. Really. I think I’m going to sleep for a  while,” she yawned. “I’m exhausted. Besides, I can see you limping. I know your leg is killing you.”

She was right. Ryan leaned forward, brushed his lips over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sunk into the kiss. Even though she’d told him to leave, he could tell that she was having trouble letting go. When he pulled away, he left a quick kiss on her mouth.

“I’ll be here in the morning to pick you up.”

“Alright. I love you,” she said.

Ryan grinned. He hadn’t heard those words the way that she was saying them now in weeks. “I love you too.”

It felt odd to return to the apartment alone, but Ryan was almost glad that he had. There were clothes tossed all over the floors, empty bottles lay beneath the bed. He curled his nose in disgust. Seeing it like this, when he was sober, was embarrassing. He grabbed a black garbage bag and gathered up every bottle he could find. There were over twenty of them. He shook his head.

Next, came the clothes. He stripped out of his t-shirt and heavy jeans before tossing them into the washing machine and heading to the shower. When he stepped out into a room of heavy steam and fog, he opened the drug cabinet and pulled out his dog tags. They hadn’t touched his skin in a long time. He draped them over his neck now.