Breaking Bedrock (Book Two) Page 6

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. Hold on. Let me think. 512-555-2311.”

  “Okay, we’re letting them know to stand down. Now, do you see the squad car coming up on your right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to follow it and pull over when he does, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to stay on until you’re parked safely, okay?”

  “Okay. We’re pulling over.”

  “Good. Now, I want you to pay careful attention to his directions, all right?”

  “Okay. The officer’s here at my window.” Addie sighed, hung up the phone, and reached for the boys.

  Eight

  Patrick arrived at the cabin to find Michele waiting at the table with dinner ready. Michele reminded him a little bit of his mother, but in all of the good ways, of course. She was always ready to just jump in and handle whatever it was that needed to be handled, and she rarely asked anything of him until now.

  Driving in, he couldn’t help but notice how run-down the place looked since they had been there last, a few years or so ago. It was one of the first places Michele took him so they could spend time together. It was so hard back at home, because while they worked together and it was expected for them to be seen around town together, they couldn’t really actually be together. So after that first trip, Michele surprised Patrick by buying the place, and they’d since spent many weekends here together “working.” Addie questioned him about it a few times but seemed content when he downplayed it as a fishing trip with the guys. She’d always been so busy with the kids anyway.

  Michele stood, interrupting his thoughts. Eyeing the fancy spread, he winked. “Don’t you want to try out the bed first?”

  Michele took a step forward and kissed his cheek. “Hello to you too.”

  Patrick took off his coat and laid it over the chair. As Michele handed him a glass of red wine, he noticed there was something a little off about her; although, he couldn’t quite gauge what it was. “This looks nice,” Patrick noted, motioning towards the table.

  Michele frowned, glancing at her watch. “Yeah, well, I’ve been waiting a while, and dinner’s already getting cold. So let’s eat.”

  Patrick pulled out her chair and sat. “I didn’t think you planned to return to the States so soon, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “I don’t want to talk about work, Patrick.”

  “Okay.”

  “How’s the family?” Michele questioned.

  Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you know, same ol’ same ol’. The boys are getting bigger by the minute.”

  Michele pushed back from the table. “Any plans on leaving anytime soon, Patrick? Or is this always how it’s going to be? You know, just a weekend thing.”

  “Come on, Michele. Let’s just eat. We can discuss all of that later.”

  Michele pulled the tablecloth out from underneath the meal, throwing everything on the floor. “FUCK YOU, Patrick. Is this what I am to you? A fucking side dish? Something you can just use whenever you want?”

  Patrick stood, wine soaking his pants. “Jesus. What has gotten into you? Let’s just calm down, okay?”

  Michele picked up at dishtowel and threw it at his face. “CALM DOWN? YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN? Well, I want you to fucking say something. Say anything. But for goodness’ sake, say SOMETHING.”

  Patrick frowned and toweled off. “I am, and I’m saying, ‘Calm down, Michele.’ Whatever this—this little episode—is about we can work it out.”

  “Can we? Can we really just work it all out? Michele retorted.

  “Let’s go shower. It appears we both could use one,” Patrick pleaded, tossing the dishtowel in with the mess on the floor.

  Michele surveyed the mess, smiled, and then lowered her voice speaking matter-of-factly. “I’m pregnant, Patrick.”

  As she sat in the busy parking lot full of retail stores and onlookers, Addie contemplated for a moment that maybe she really was losing her mind. She gave her statement to the officer as quickly as she could. Her children were already understandably frightened, and she just wanted to get out of there.

  According to the police officer and her security team, she’d handled everything wrong. For starters, her security team hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary except for the fact that Addison had pulled over to the side of the road. After she taken off abruptly, they’d tried to make contact with her car phone, and when she hadn’t picked up, they sensed something was wrong. Unfortunately, no one had gotten a decent glance at Scott Hammons with the exception of Connor. But the officer assured her seven-year-olds aren’t exactly considered expert witnesses. He took her statement and assured her that since an electronic tracking device was monitoring Hammons they would quickly know whether or not it was him. “Sometimes kids make mistakes,” he’d told her. The problem was Addie was fairly certain that Connor had not been mistaken. After what she’d gone through at the hands of Scott Hammons, she wouldn’t put anything past him. She knew all too well the special kind of evil he was capable of.

  After discussing the situation with William’s security team and after they’d called in for back up, Addie attempted to keep everything as normal as possible for the boys, and so she did as they’d discussed and took them by the new place to check it out. Who was she kidding, though? Nothing about any of this was normal.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised though that once William caught word of the incident he’d take it upon himself just to show up at her new place, which had no doubt caused a huge fight between the two of them. What was he thinking just showing up like that as though he were fucking Superman? Addie wondered as she pulled him out into the garage. “What in the hell are you doing here, William? Not only are we not supposed to be seen together but my children are here.”

  William threw up his hands. “What do you mean what am I doing here? Is this all some sort of joke to you, Addison? It’s past time for a meeting. You, me, and the security team. We need to get a few things straight. First of all, I need to know what you were thinking this afternoon, not calling Carl and not letting the guys know what was going on. They were right there, and you called the police? This is getting serious, and one thing is blatantly clear. No matter what did or didn’t happen this afternoon, no one was well prepared.”

  Addie leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “Does it look like I’m joking? I . . . I appreciate what it is you’re trying to do here, but now is not the time.”

  William stepped forward and took Addison in his arms. “Look. I’m trying here. And I apologize for not calling first, but I needed to make sure you were okay, that you’re safe.”

  Addie melted into him. “I know. But you can’t do this, William. I have children to think about. There’s already so much going on. I really don’t need you adding to it.”

  William let go and stepped back. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean? You know, Addison, I don’t fucking get you. You say you want to try, but you won’t let me in. So long as EVERYTHING is on your terms, it’s all fine. I’m just not sure; well . . . I’m not sure I’m compatible with that. You need to make a decision. We’re either going to give this a shot or we’re not. You’re either going to let me in or you’re not, because, quite frankly, I’m about fucking done.” William fumed.

  “You need to go, William.”

  William pushed the garage door button and watched as the door slowly rose. Addie watched him walk towards the waiting SUV. He nodded something to an oversized man as he the man opened the door for him. William turned back towards Addie and saluted her, his face impassive as he quickly ducked in. And just as quickly as William Hartman had come, he was gone.

  “What do you mean you’re pregnant? I thought you were on the pill?” Patrick grilled.

  Michele glared at him. “I was.”

  Patrick squeezed at his temples. “Well, what are we going to do about it?”

  “So we’re a ‘we’ now, huh?”

  Patrick walked to M
ichele and put his arms around her. “Come on. Don’t be like that. We have always been a ‘we.’ You know we make a great team.”

  Michele glanced up at him. “Don’t patronize me, Patrick.”

  This was pretty much the way the conversation went the rest of the evening: back and forth exchanges on how they’d gotten into this mess with no real clear-cut answers. Well, Patrick knew how they’d gotten themselves here; he just hadn’t a clue how to get himself out of it. What he did know was that right now wasn’t the time to ask Michele to get an abortion. She was in no mood for it. Maybe it was the hormones, but she sure did seem on edge. He hadn’t remembered Addie being this way.

  They spent much of the rest of the weekend either in bed or working. Both of them seemed determined to avoid the topic altogether, tiptoeing around it, careful not to set the other one off.

  On their last day at the cabin, after making love, Patrick carefully broached the subject. “I think we need to talk about this, Michele. How far along would you say you are?”

  Michele smiled and rolled over, placing her hand on his chest. “I know exactly how far I am.”

  “All right, well, what are you thinking?’ Patrick asked softly.

  “I’m thinking I’m going to have a baby.”

  “You can’t be serious. You know we’ll both lose our jobs over this, don’t you?”

  “I’m dead serious, Patrick. I never wanted kids, but, now, I don’t know. It’s as though I’ve been given this opportunity, an opportunity I didn’t even know I wanted, and, well, I sort of feel like it’s my last shot at it. I’m not exactly young anymore. And neither are you, for that matter.”

  Patrick sat up and adjusted the covers. “But I don’t want any more children, Michele. Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

  Michele stood up quickly and sank back down. “Whoa. I’m dizzy. You . . . You don’t have to take part in any of this. I’m fine to do it on my own. Of course, I’d hoped it wouldn’t be that way, but if it is, then so be it.”

  “What about my job, Michele? We’re both going to be out of a job after all this gets out.”

  Michele turned and looked Patrick straight in the eye. “I guess that depends, you know? If you want to raise this child together, then I have an idea about how to make it work out for the both of us. But if not, then I guess you’re on your own.”

  Addie thought about how William’s arms had felt around her. She remembered how he’d felt inside her. God, she shouldn’t have let him go. She could still feel his kiss on her skin, the way it felt when he touched her. She could still taste him. There was nothing else like it. Being with him was like a drug, a high that she’d never achieve any other way. He was her dealer, and she was his addict. She should have said something, anything, to make him see things her way, to make him stay.

  But Addie had known better. The thing about men as powerful as William is that you had to set boundaries with them. Without boundaries and discipline, they were nothing. They’d walk all over you; this much she’d learned from her time as a Domme. You had to know when to take it and when to draw the line. As a Domme, you had to gauge what it was they needed: how much was too much, how little was too little. With Patrick, she’d lost herself. Patrick wanted to believe that he was the dominant type, but in reality, he wasn’t. Addie’s biggest mistake was going along with it for so long. She should have put her foot down sooner, disagreed, and made him fight. But she didn’t. Instead, Addison hated who she’d become in their marriage. She became desperate for her husband to see her, to love her, to really know who she was. She tried ten thousand ways to the sun and back to get him to see her, to get what it was she needed. The more she tried, the less important it seemed she became to him. After a while, she’d become nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing in his ear. She was the thing in the room he knew was there but passed without a second glance. The more she tried to become the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the more invisible she became. And the more she tried to get him to see her, the less he saw. In many ways, her marriage reminded her of her childhood, and perhaps there was some comfort in the familiarity.

  Part of it was the stress of caring for infants and young children; it became easier not to press, not to push him. There was less energy to go around, and she’d lost the drive to commandeer their relationship in the way she might’ve once. So she allowed Patrick to make all of the decisions about his life, doing as he pleased, which in many ways was very separate from their lives at home. While she focused on their home and raising their children and grew more unsatisfied and resentful day-by-day, things for him hadn’t really changed all that much. If anything, he’d grown happier in life while Addie grew more and more discontent. The problem was she wanted to be happy and felt incredibly guilty for not enjoying the life that she herself had chosen. After all, all she’d wanted growing up was a normal, loving family, so why, now that she had it, couldn’t she be happy?

  It took her a long time for her to find the answers she was so desperately seeking, that simply being together didn’t necessarily equal happiness. It wasn’t until shortly after William Hartman came into her life that it all started making sense. Maybe a part of it had to do with going back to work and hitting her stride again. Maybe a part of it was becoming the confident, assertive Domme that she needed to be to make the changes she knew deep down needed to be made. But even still, Addison knew that most of it was because of how William had fallen for her. It was in the way he looked at her. It was in his touch. It was the way he made her feel when they were together. It was how he drove her crazy. But mostly, it was how he saw in her everything that she should have seen in herself. He called her out on her bullshit. He fought with her and for her. He made her want to be better.

  Addie watched the boys running around their mostly empty new home, laughing and content, and she realized in that moment that even though life was far from perfect—it was in fact a complete and utter mess—she knew, despite it all, this was exactly where she needed to be.

  William sat as his mahogany desk, the same desk he’d once taken Addison on. God, she had looked so good there. He could still smell her on him, could still taste her on his lips. And damn him if he didn’t wish she were here now so that he could bend her over the edge of that desk, pin her down, spread her legs while showing her just how much she frustrated him and yet how much she needed him all at the same time. He despised himself for feeling this way. William had had it with her trying to call the shots. Topping from the bottom, they called it. Part of the problem was that he and Addie were so much alike: stubborn and irreverent.

  The situation with Addison was exactly the reason he never got involved with women past a few times in the sack. He hated wanting, or more accurately needing, something so much. He hated how vulnerable she made him feel. Men like him couldn’t afford to be vulnerable. It was certain death to their persona, which was exactly why he had started seeing Sondra in the first place. He needed a strong presence in his life where he could let down his guard and just take it but still always come out on top. He could take the pain and still come out alive. The risk was measurable. He could survive it. What he couldn’t survive was losing Addison. But one thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t about to let her mind fuck him into using intimacy as a way to get him to comply with her every whim. It was time to give her a taste of her own medicine. William was about to teach her a lesson in her own game.

  For as long as house arrest has been around, people have been circumventing the system. Scott Hammons wasn’t exactly on house arrest per se; although, sometimes it certainly felt that way. He was being tracked via his ankle monitor to ensure he didn’t disobey the restraining order that little bitch had put in place.

  It had been easy for someone as brilliant as he was to get around under the radar. Even if he weren’t as smart as he was, there were fucking devices you could find to intercept the GPS tracking device tethered to his ankle simply by typing it into Google for goodness’ sake. People were s
o stupid! His excellent tracking skills—he had been a boy scout after all—had gotten him closer and closer to the little whore. He was smart about it too. He was an outlier. He switched out vehicles and he wore disguises. Mostly, he made sure to blend in. That was the real trick. The joke of a security team Hartman had surrounding her hadn’t seen him, but that goddamned kid of hers had somehow managed to foil it all. Now, thanks to the little bastard, his attorneys were breathing down his neck, and the police had questioned him on his whereabouts. But he was no dummy. He knew they couldn’t put anything on him. Scott Hammons was a master at all things. He would show them soon enough.

  For starters, he’d understood the art of deflection. He had left the house that day to see his psychotherapist. The damned attorneys insisted on him seeing this idiot, said they’d needed his testimony in court that Scott was of sound mind and body. Bloody fucking attorneys! Of course he was in his right mind. He was a goddamned Rhodes Scholar, and no one, especially not bloodsuckers like William Hartman or trashy whores like Addison Greyer, could take that away from him.

  William Hartman had humiliated him in front of everyone: the public and even his own family. He’d befriended Scott under the guise of helping him, only to steal his business out from under him. He’d made a fool out of him. So, yeah, maybe this idiot therapist couldn’t understand why he was so angry. Scott knew he had every right. It was his duty to get revenge. Of course, he wouldn’t be telling the dummy therapist or idiot attorneys or even that dingbat Penny Greyer any of this; it was his little secret.

  Oh, and one other thing he wouldn’t be sharing . . . The voices were back. Well, his wife used to call them the voices, but Scott Hammons had the kind of brilliance to know that it was really God and his angels instructing him to do their will.

  Furthermore, he hoped all of this was making sense in the mind of the readers, those who would be lucky enough to read his journals. Admittedly, his thoughts had been a bit jumbled recently. He was so busy plotting and planning that there was little time for anything else, even sleep. Also, he couldn’t take the meds the doc had prescribed anymore because, with all of this electronic medical record bullshit, it was too easy for them to see that he was on them again. And he really didn’t need the meds anyways. He just took them to appease the doctors and to win his family back. His angels always informed him in all the right ways, and those meds were poison. Plus, he wasn’t crazy anyhow.