Page 131 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
“You’re late,” Krystal chided when she got behind the wheel of the transport van. “Mike got back an hour ago, and when he heard what you did, he was pissed. I thought you’d beat him so I wouldn’t get yelled at.”
“He’ll get the hell over it,” Taylor snapped as she buckled into the front passenger seat. “He’s basically family and all, but Jesus Christ and Hail Mary, he’s so fucking full of himself.”
Krystal said nothing, adjusting her glasses as she drove through the pitch black dark. Jamison tried to make sense of her surroundings, but she couldn’t see much, not with Parker’s tall frame on her right and Bruce’s bulky one on her left. Some roads they went down were paved, and some were nothing but dirt or clay. The last road was rocky, full of dips and big rocks that shook the van like a rag doll.
“How’s my baby?” Taylor asked. “I can’t wait to see her.”
“She’s doing good.” Krystal smiled. “She’s been reading and sounding out the words like a big girl. She takes her nap on time and has never fought me about eating her vegetables. The juice, on the other hand, well, we’re still battling that.”
“Madi loves apple juice,” Parker said. “It helps her—”
“I don’t give a shit, Parker. I have told you this.” Taylor twisted around to snarl at him. “Madison will not be one of those fatties who eats nothing but sugar. I will hold my daughter to a higher standard.”
“Claudia’s daughter.” Feeling brave, Jamison raised her chin. “Madison is Claudia’s daughter.”
Holy hell.The backhanded slap from Parker stung like a son of a bitch, and Jamison’s head went flying. He’d struck her cheek and nose, causing blood to squirt from her nostrils.
“Easy,” Bruce barked. “Calm him the fuck down, Taylor.”
“Calm down?Calmdown? I think not,” Taylor shrieked as Parker shoved Jamison’s head forward. “Madison belongs to me now. She’s my little angel, you worthless skank.”
“Skank?” Jamison laughed directly in Taylor’s face. “What are you, twelve?”
Parker smashed her face into the back of Taylor’s seat, and Jamison’s vision swam with swirls and pops of color. The one good thing about the drugs was that they had left her slightly numb.
Yanking on her arm, Bruce locked her swaying body at his side. “That’s enough.”
“That’s enough,” Taylor parroted before returning her attention to Krystal. “And how is our favorite boy?”
Krystal glanced sideways at Taylor, her smile grotesque in the dashboard lights. “Sleeping.”
“A sleeping beauty, I bet.”
“He really is,” Krystal replied with a sigh. “I’m serious, Taylor. I don’t know why you’ve been wasting your time going after that crusty old Ben Fairweather or his son when Damon’s prime piece of ass is ripe and ready to go. I have never seen a more gorgeous man.”
Taylor squealed. “Just think of all the beautiful babies we’re going to get from him.”
“And the fun we’re going to have making them,” Krystal added. “Now that we have Jamison, we can start. I called everyone to come home. Most were already on their way, but the others should arrive by morning.”
The two women high-fived, and Jamison opened her mouth to say something, but Bruce squeezed tight enough to knock the air from her lungs. “Nope. Keep that comment to yourself.”
Hitting a large hole in the road, the van’s tires bounced hard, and just when Jamison thought she was going to hurl all over Bruce’s shoes, the ground evened out. She sat up straight, trying to see where they were going. Thanks to the headlights, she could make out the large twelve-foot-high barbed wire fencing up ahead. There were gates and guards, two men dressed in black with guns holstered at their waists.
“Hey, boys!” Taylor waved at the guards, who half-heartedly waved back. “I’m here for more than just a quick visit this time.”
The road's curves became sharper the further they traveled, the van climbing higher and higher until it plateaued onto a gravel drive. A thick forest encased their path, and on the final turn, the glimmer of light building in front of them gave way to an astonishing sight.
Haven House.
Jamison nearly fell off her seat, trying to get a clear view. It wasn’t as big as Haven, but it stole her breath for a second when she thought they had brought her home. The closer they came, the more she could see the differences. A single gable instead of two. Four columns in front instead of eight. The upper level’s porch didn’t appear to wrap all the way around, nor did the lower level’s porch. There were no gardens. No oaks. No vast side yard one could run around in. It was like a large home with hints of Haven House, making it a miniature version of the estate.
And it would seem that every light in the house had been left on.
Simone would’ve had a fit.
The windows were uncovered, allowing some of the interior to show, and the oddly whimsical lamp posts sitting off the front path revealed a group of people waiting.
At the forefront of the growing crowd, a man stood. Hands behind his back and head forward, Michael Sinclair watched their approach. The black pants and T-shirt he wore hugged every muscle like a second skin, and once they parked, he aimed his furious gaze at Taylor.
