Grit (Dirty #6) (17 page)

Thirty-Five

Rocky

“Is that house still available?” I ask Link over dinner. We’re having a rare treat these days after I told him I was craving pizza. We’re on the couch, in front of the TV, fingers slick with grease, and I’m in heaven.

“I think so,” he says between bites. “Why?”

“I think we should do it. If you still want to, I think you should put in a bid.”

We haven’t broached this subject since the night everything came crashing down. Link and I have been really good since that night as well. He replaced his phone, he’s home every night, and when he has errands to run he tries to do it while I’m still at work. On the rare occasion he has to go out after, he often has Joe or Augie come hang out with me. I was annoyed with the idea at first—I don’t need a babysitter—but if Joe hadn’t been here the night I fainted and hit my head, I have no idea how differently everything may have happened.

The worst part about it is when Joe brings Summer. Not because I dislike her, but because she and my brother are disgusting. They have no issues with PDA. Not that I can talk, I guess. I have sex with Link in the gym office every chance I get.

“You really want the house?” Link asks, setting his plate on the coffee table.

I nod. “Yes. The baby is going to need a room. I took measurements earlier, and I have no clue how we’re going to fit a crib in our room. We need a bigger space. And I kind of really love that house.” I realize belatedly that I said
our room
, but at this point, it
is
ours.

He grins the gorgeous Link grin I haven’t seen in a while. “I do too.” He brushes a few kisses along my jaw before leaning over and grabbing his laptop.

I finish off my pizza as I watch him. I love the way the muscles in his arms bend and twist from something as small as typing. My mind begins to wander as I think about all the other things he does with his hands.

“It’s still up.” He turns the screen so I can see. “I’ll email Joel with an offer.” He pauses, eyes searching my face. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

He keeps looking at me, and something in his eyes changes. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I feel my face heat. I’m fucking blushing. I never blush. What the hell?

“You make me happy,” he says, his voice gritty with emotion.

I smile at him, my belly doing a little flip.
I love you too
.

“Ditto, dude. Now buy me a house.”

~*~

After Link insisted on looking it up, we read that firing a gun while pregnant isn’t safe due to the high decibel sound and possibility of lead intake through the skin while loading. Now, we’ve ceased all training and self-defense classes, and I have very little to do during my down time, so I throw myself into my favorite pastime.

The doctor said I can paint for small periods of time in well-ventilated areas—thank goodness or I’d go insane from boredom. I open the living room window several inches and place a fresh canvas on the easel. I step back, letting my mind go to work. I’d like to paint something for the baby’s future bedroom, but without knowing the sex, I don’t know what colors to use.

Of course, I’m a girl, but I don’t do all that frilly bubble gum pink crap. Joe has always favored red as opposed to the stereotypical blue.

I decide to use a series of blues and greens and create an underwater theme.

I dip my brush and go to work, losing myself in the metallic scent of the paint, and the sweep of my brush. For me, painting is a release. Whatever is weighing on me lifts, if only for the time being. It’s freeing. I love it.

I can’t believe I walked away from it for so long.

The thought of going to school and trying to make something out of my skill scurries through my mind once again.

Link comes in and sits sideways on the couch so he can watch me. It makes me nervous, having someone see my work in progress, but he’s not looking at the canvas, I realize. He’s watching me.

My heart does that flutter that reminds me how much I love him. I set the brush down—I can paint later. Right now I want to show him how deeply my feelings run for him.

Thirty-Six

Link

I know I should tell Rocky about Garrett. And Bates. And my plan. About the pictures of Bethany and her kids and why I took them. And about Anthony. I should stop lying about where I go when I’m not with her and tell her everything.

I know this, but I don’t.

Dr. Ortiz said she’s doing well. She’s not out of the clear yet, but her tests all looked good. She told her to keep doing what she’s doing because it’s working. Her blood pressure isn’t quite normal, but it’s not alarmingly high anymore either.

As long as I keep Rocky happy, she’ll be healthy. I can’t do that if I confess my sins. It will only make me feel better—not her.

I didn’t want to tell her when Bates’ was being sentenced, but she and I submitted victim’s statements to the judge, choosing not to speak, so she would have found out anyway. For me, I have no reason now that I have a plan. It doesn’t stop me from attempting to talk her into staying home. Especially after his threats toward her.

“I need to be there,” she murmurs. “I want to watch that bastard get put away for the rest of his life, and I want to smile while it happens.”

It’s understandable. I feel the same way.

***

Rocky and I stop before the double doors leading into the courtroom. Despite looking forward to this moment for so long, I’m nervous. The way Rocky’s hands tremble give her anxiety away as well.

I turn her so she’s facing me and take her hands in mine. “We don’t have to go in there. We can leave right now.”

“No,” she states, voice firm. “He’s not going to scare me away.”

I nod, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Okay, but if it gets to be too much, just say it and we’re gone.”

She jerks her head in confirmation, and I pull the door open. The proceedings have already begun, and Bates, dressed in his county jailhouse scrubs, stands up front with his attorney. He turns at the sound of our entrance, his cold gaze sliding over us as we slip into seats in the back of the room.

The judge is speaking, reprimanding Bates about the appalling nature of his crimes. Bates shifts back, but it’s obvious he’s paying the judge little mind. Rocky’s hand finds mine, fingers flexing and twitching as the charges are ticked off.

For the felonious assault charge—eleven years.

The attempted murder charge—eighteen years.

The aggravated assault charge—twenty years.

The second attempted murder charge—life, no possibility of parole.

The rape charge—life, no possibility of parole.

The first-degree murder charge—life, no possibility of parole.

He’ll never be free
.

There are murmured approvals throughout the room. With each sentence, Rocky’s hand squeezes mine. I glance over at her, but instead of smiling, she’s crying. I wrap my arm around her waist, tugging her into my side.

Four years.

It took over four goddamn years to get to this point. It isn’t what I wanted—it still isn’t—but there’s satisfaction in watching his punishment be dealt.

The victims and their families are given the chance to address Bates. Rocky and I chose not to do this. Anthony, despite having helped Bates attack Livie and me, is also one of Bates’ victims, but he’s in prison, and I can’t imagine Bethany has any reason to speak on her husband’s behalf. But then I see someone stand.

My body goes numb as I watch Olivia’s father walk to the podium. I haven’t seen her parents since they checked on me while I was still in the hospital recovering from one of the many surgeries I underwent after Bates’ first attack. My gaze shifts, finding Liv’s mom, her eyes—so much like Livie’s—shine with tears. I swing my attention back to her dad. He looks older than his years. Losing a daughter will do that.

Paper crinkles as he removes a letter from an envelope, unfolding it. He blows out a breath that crackles into the microphone. These small gestures, they speak volumes. I can feel his grief from here.

Bates doesn’t give him the respect of looking at him as he begins to speak.

“Olivia Haydon was my only child. She was our miracle. We were told we wouldn’t be able to conceive, but less than a year later, she blessed our family. That girl—she was always full of surprises. She was beautiful, smart, kind…” His voice is overtaken with emotion and the next string of words is said through tears.

“She was so kind, generous, and funny, and I miss her every single day. I miss her smile. The sound of her laughter. I miss her stories, and simply hearing her voice.”

He turns toward Bates, facing him, the anguish in his features palpable.

“When you so callously took my daughter’s life, you stole an entire future from our family.”

I feel my chest stutter, searching for air. Part of me wants to get up and leave right now—I don’t want to hear anymore. I can’t stand to witness the pain in his voice or the loss he’s suffered, because I already know. I live with it.

“I will never hear her call me dad again. I’ll never again see the smile I miss so much. I’ll never get to watch my brilliant and gifted daughter achieve her dreams and graduate from college. I’ll never kiss her cheek or get to walk her down the aisle. I’ll never get the chance to be a grandfather.”

My vision blurs as moisture fills my eyes. I make a noise—a guttural and feral groan—finally sucking in a breath. Rocky’s shoulders shake as she cries and I tighten my grip around her.

“She was destined for great things, and you ripped it all away in one night. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you can
murder
someone so
good
. I can’t forgive you for that. The only consolation is knowing you will spend the rest of your natural born life in a cage like the animal you are.”

Mr. Haydon folds the paper, tucking it into his pocket. He stares at Bates for several seconds before he shuffles back to his seat next to his wife.

Bates is given the opportunity to address the victims and their families, but he declines. He has no desire to apologize, and I prefer it that way. With that, he is placed in handcuffs and led to the side door. I fix my gaze on him, following him with my eyes, waiting for him to turn my way, but he keeps his head cast down until he’s out of sight.

Neither Rocky nor I move as the courtroom begins to clear out. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. For everyone else, this is over, but for me, this is just step two in my plan.

Thirty-Seven

Rocky

Detective Byers is waiting for us in the hallway when we leave the courtroom. I’ve talked to him a few times—once the night Bates came after me at Link’s house, and the couple occasions he’s come into the gym. He’s nice, and Link seems to like him a lot, but right now—being the lead investigator on Woods’ homicide—he’s the enemy. He has the potential to put it all together and take the father of my child away.

“You all right?” Byers asks, his eyes flicking back and forth between Link and me.

“I don’t know,” Link says. “I’m not sure yet.”

Byers nods. “A little bit of everything, I suppose.” He glances at me. “How about you, missy? You doing all right?” He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to me. I take it gratefully, surprised by the gesture. I didn’t know guys still carried these things.

“Thank you. Yes, I’m okay. Relieved it’s over.”

He nods again, gaze moving back to Link. “Since I have you here, I should probably let you know we haven’t made much progress on the Woods case. Bates hasn’t been cooperative lately. I’m hoping once he’s transferred over to the state prison he’ll feel a bit more talkative.”

I shift uncomfortably. I pray that’s not true. If Bates gets chatty, Link’s at greater risk.

“You know, I’m retiring. Woods is my last case. Once this is solved, I’m a free man.”

“I didn’t know that,” Link replies. “What are you going to do with yourself?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll take up boxing.”

Both guys laugh, but I’m still stuck on Bates running his vile mouth about my boyfriend. I chew my fingernail, thoughts spinning. I find it ironic Woods is Byers last case, since it’s the final thing standing in our way of happiness.

“I’ll let you two get out of here. I know it’s been a difficult day for you.”

Link shakes Byers hand and I give him a little wave. Just as we turn to walk away, we come face to face with Olivia’s parents—I recognize her father immediately.

Link’s face pales. “Mr. and Mrs. Haydon…”

“Hi Link,” the woman says with a warm smile. Her adoration for him is evident by the way she looks at him. “It’s been so long. You look great.”

“Thank you,” he rasps. It’s clear to me he’s at a loss for words and it makes my heart ache for him.

“Yes, you’ve gotten big,” Mr. Haydon states. He slaps Link’s shoulder, giving it a shake. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” He looks at me then. “The only reason we noticed you at all was because of this one here.”

Mrs. Haydon reaches out as if she’s going to touch me, but thinks better of it, dropping her hand back to her side. “It’s the hair,” she explains. It takes me a moment to understand, but as I catch Link nodding in agreement, it clicks. He told me once my hair resembles Olivia’s in every way but the way it smells. For a long time, I was worried that was his only attraction to me. Sometimes, like now, that same question arises.

“This is Rocky,” Link utters. “My girlfriend.” The way he says girlfriend, it’s like he expects them to disapprove, but Mrs. Haydon beams.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rocky.” She glances back to Link and winks. “She’s gorgeous.”

Mr. Haydon’s eyes shine with unshed tears. “She’d be happy for you,” he croaks. “All she ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

Link’s lips press together, forming a tight white line for a second before it shifts into a smile. “I am,” he says. “I am.”

~*~

Joe and Augie are sparring for fun in the ring between clients. I glance around, looking for Link.

“He’s not here,” Augie calls, words barley understandable through his mouth guard.

“Where’d he go?” He’s been better about telling me when he leaves.

He shrugs, taped fists raised. “Something about the house.”

The house. I wonder if his offer was accepted. If he didn’t say anything, he probably wants to surprise me. I’m not a big fan of surprises, but that’s one I can handle.

“I’m going to pick up some lunch. You guys want anything?”

“A burger,” Augie calls.

Joe spits his guard into his hand. “Wait, Rock, you want me to take you?”

I shake my head. “The doctor said I’m good—I don’t need a babysitter twenty-four seven. I’m just going right down the street.”

“Okay, if you’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then I’ll take a burger, too. No onion. I have a date with Summer tonight.” He cocks his brows, grinning stupidly, and I roll my eyes. He’s got it bad.

I grab my coat and slip some cash into my pocket before heading down to Jay-Jay’s café. They have the best buffalo chicken salad and French fries. It’s an odd combination, but I blame it on the baby.

“Hi, how many today?” the hostess greets me.

“I just want to place an order for carryout.”

She grabs her pad, and I relay our orders to her. “Anything while you wait?”

I’m about to say no, but then I remember that chocolate mint pie I tasted on Link that one night. He said he got it from here. I slip onto one of the stools at the counter. “Yeah, can I get a slice of grasshopper pie?”

Her head tilts to the side. “We don’t have that.”

I deflate.
Damn
. I’ve been craving it for weeks.

“The only place I can even think of that sells grasshopper pie is that diner, Gillian’s, over in Dylan County.”

My heart beats in double-time. Gillian’s? Garrett Marshall works at Gillian’s—that’s what his profile said when Link and I looked him up before.

“You don’t sell it here at all? Ever?”

“Not for as long as I’ve worked here—going on three years. We have cherry, apple, key lime, and cheesecake. You want one of those?”

“No,” I utter. “Thank you.”

He went to see Garrett.

Oh, my God
.

There’s only one reason he’d do that and lie to me about it.