Page 13 of Vengeful Pawn

“Fine,” I grunt. “A lot on my mind.” Like my next therapy appointment tomorrow.

Mia has been driving down to Pensacola the night before every appointment because she wants to support me. She’ll spend a couple of days here with me before heading back home. Fridays, I go up to her and drive home Monday mornings. I fucking hate the separation.

“How’s Mia?”

Bishop is the only one I’ve confided in about my fears. He’s the only one I’ve spoken to about seeking out therapy, too. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because I’m not sure it’s working.

“Good. She should be at my place within the hour.” I don’t like not being there when she arrives, but she’s got a key, and I’m also needed here.

“You know the sex of the baby yet?” He’s been badgering me since I told him about Mia.

“She wants to be surprised. The doctor was able to do so during the ultrasound a couple of weeks ago, but Mia just wants to concentrate on a healthy pregnancy.” Right now, that’s the only thing on my mind as well.

As the boat slides into the dock, we each grab a rope tossed to us and tie it off before helping the family out. “Guys, this is Emma and her son Kenny,” Seven introduces.

“Pleased to meet you.” Bishop smiles as he helps the boy steady himself on the rocking dock while I grab their bags.

“We’ve got some extra clothes and essentials packed in the truck for you both, too. The house will have more, and they’ll help get anything you can’t find,” I explain.

Emma smiles, but she’s exhausted. I can see it in the way she has trouble staying still and sways.

Hanging back with Severo as Bishop and Seven guide the pair to the waiting truck, Severo is breathing deeply, trying to control his temper. “When we got there, the boy was locked in a closet and his father was about to rape her.”

“Shit.” There’s nothing the men in my family hate more than violence against women and children. “He still alive?”

“Unfortunately,” Sev grunts. “We didn’t have the time we needed to make it appear like an accident.”

“We’re doing what we can, man, don’t let it get to you.” Slapping his back in support, I say, “Nolan and Bea are at the house, ready to welcome them.”

Sparrow House doesn’t allow men inside; however, when Lilith opened Haven House, she decided that men needed to be on the premises to show the survivors that not all men are bad. Some are protective.

Arriving at Haven House, Bea is quick to welcome the pair and show them to their room for the near future before offering them a meal in the kitchen. Nolan hangs back and allows his wife to work her magic. Bea comes from a tragic past, but watching her now, you’d never know it. Haven House has been her baby. She was involved in every aspect of building, designing, and decorating the place. She even chose the name.

“I’m heading out,” I tell Bishop, who pats my shoulder, knowing exactly where I want to be tonight.

“Hey!” he calls out to me. “She’s good for you. We all see it.”

Nodding my appreciation, I get in the truck and head home, stopping to grab flowers for Mia and a pint of her favorite peanut butter cup ice cream.

As soon as I enter the apartment, I recognize that something is wrong. Her car is in the parking lot, her purse sits on the counter, and her sweet scent is in the air. I lock the front door, put the flowers and ice cream container on the counter, and quietly walk back to my room, where Mia is sitting on the end of the bed with tears streaming down her cheeks, an envelope in her hand.

Dropping to my knees in front of her, I cup her hands in mine. “Mia, princess, what’s wrong?”

“I hate that name,” she hiccups. “The club always called me that growing up. I hated it. Then one night with you, and I love it.”

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

She hands me the envelope clutched in her fist, and I quickly open it and dump the contents out. Sucking in a sharp breath, I keep my rage in check. Pictures taken of Mia in private moments litter the floor next to me.

Mia in the shower. Changing in her room. Coming and going from the clubhouse. Leaving her work. Sitting at her desk.

The ones of her sleeping, with the person clearly in her room, are the most disturbing. Another has a hand reaching out and touching her hair as she sleeps soundly. The worst is of her pregnant belly and scratch marks across the photo, clearly threatening our child.

“You’re staying here!” Pulling her sobbing body into my arms, I pick her up and lay her down in bed. “I’ll keep you safe, MiaBella, both of you.”

That promise is one I won’t break. Even if that means taking her to my parents' estate, where no one can gain access.

CHAPTER 10

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