Page 40 of Dangerous Refuge

“But you love him?” Her question scalds my heart. I do love him, but it doesn’t matter. A mother’s love for her son trumps any romantic love out there. I have to protect Rico with my life.

“It’s the right thing.” I pick up the wine and finish the glass in two swallows. I want to drown what I’m feeling for Sven, with hope that maybe tomorrow I wake up and pretend this never happened, that I don’t feel a thing for him anymore.

“Well, I have chocolates and ice cream. We can watch a chick flick and even pin Paul’s picture to my dartboard and practice throwing darts.” She snickers and pushes the tissues toward me. “And it’s okay to cry and be upset about this. I’m sorry I encouraged you to go for him. I should have known it was something fucked up like this.” Her apology is genuine, but unnecessary. I’m an adult. I make my own choices and this is all on me.

“It’s okay… But maybe I’ll take you up on that ice cream. With as uncertain as my future is right now, I will take anything I can get to help myself stay calm.” I uncurl my legs and turn, stretching my feet out to prop them on the coffee table. My legs are sore from walking around at work and I just want to melt into this sofa and forget life.

“Sure, I’ll go dish up a few bowls.” Sarah stands to walk to the kitchen, but as she does, someone knocks on the door. She glances at me with confusion. “Forget something in Sven’s car?” she asks, brow furrowed.

I think about it for a second. I have my purse in my suitcase, phone in my pocket, and Rico brought everything he wanted in his bag. “I don’t think so.” This is her apartment, not mine. Why would someone come knocking for me?

“Hm…” she mutters and heads for the door. She looks through the peephole and backs away quickly. “Uh… Allie—” As she says my name the door opens. I jump off the couch, bumping into the table. The wine bottle wobbles and terror claws at my neck and chest. Paul walks in with a gun pointed at Sarah.

“Where is she?” he asks her before looking up to see me.

Sarah squeals and runs over to me, wrapping her arms around me. “Get out of my house.”

“Paul, what are you doing here? Put the gun down.” I hold my hands up, surrendering. “There’s no need for a gun. Sarah is just letting me sleep over.” My thoughts go immediately to Rico tucked away safely in the attic. I pray he is sleeping now, that he won’t hear any of what happens.

“Where is my boy, Allie?”

“What do you mean?” I ask as he starts looking around the room. He shuts the front door, then opens the coat closet on the adjacent wall.

“My son, Rico. Where is he? He’s mine and I want to see him.” Paul is glassy-eyed, a crazed look on his face. He’s high on something; I just don’t know what. Sarah’s arms squeeze me so tight I can’t move. She’s whimpering, but I can’t even tell her Paul will respond negatively to that. I have to be the strong one again, stand up to him.

“He’s not here.”

“Bullshit!” Paul screams, whipping the gun around to point it at me. In all the times he was abusive to me, he never used a weapon. This is terrifying. I might piss myself. “I watched you both come into the building—followed you from that rich bastard’s house.” He advances on me and Sarah grips me more tightly.

“He’s not here,” I say firmly, praying he doesn’t get loud and startle Rico. The boy will just come down here and Paul will get violent with me. “He’s at a friend’s house in a different apartment.”

“Bull fucking shit!” Paul darts off down the hallway, stepping into Sarah’s bedroom first. I pry myself out of Sarah’s arms to follow him and she whines.

“Call 9-1-1,” I hiss then race down the hall.

In Sarah’s room, Paul throws open the closet door and tosses a few things around, then heads for the bathroom door. He’s on a warpath I’d rather not be on with him, but my life may very well hang in the balance.

“I told you he’s not here,” I snap, trying to move him away from the bathroom. All the evidence that Rico even exists is in that attic. I have to keep Paul away from the closet in my room or he will see the door.

“Get out of my way,” he says, using the pistol to smack me across the face. I yelp in pain, covering my cheek and cower for a moment. He moves back to the door and down the hall, opening the laundry closet. I follow him, now feeling terror prickling my skin. There is nowhere for Rico to hide in the laundry, so Paul moves on to the last door—my room.

“Paul, he isn’t here! You’re violating Sarah’s space.” I grab his arm, trying to prevent him from going into my room, but he shoves me hard against the wall. My body slams into the old plaster and I knock my head hard. “Ow…” I wince, taking a moment to steady myself after the blow.

He walks into my room boldly, turning my suitcase out as if Rico could hide in it. He spins around an angry look on his face, then notices the closet door. “Paul, give it a fucking rest. He’s not here,” I snap, but this time fear glues my feet to the old wooden planks.

Paul opens the closet door, and shakes his head. The way my dresses hang blocks the view to the door behind them. He spins around and grabs me by the neck, forcing me out into the hallway. While terror stiffens every muscle in my body, adrenaline preparing me for a fight, relief washes over me. He hasn’t seen the attic door. As long as Rico stays in his room he’ll be safe.

“Which apartment?” he hisses, shoving me forward as soon as we enter the living room. Sarah is gone, the front door standing open. I can’t blame her for running. I’d have run too if my son wasn’t here.

“I’m not telling you, you sick bastard.” I stumble and fall to my knees. It feels like I’m going to throw up. Paul heads for the door, gun in hand. “What do you think you’re going to do? Hold up every tenant in this building? The cops will be here before you get downstairs.”

“You’re right. I’ll just take you. Your friend will cough up the kid, or you die.” Paul grabs me by the hair, yanking me to my feet. I hold in the shout of pain that wants to escape so that I don’t alert Rico to the danger, and move with Paul wherever he leads.

Rico is safe.

Rico won’t be harmed.

I repeat the phrases in my head over and over as Paul leads me to God knows where.

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