Mutual Release (57 page)

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispered. Her voice sounded raw, as if her throat were sore.

Evan shut his eyes a split second, tried not to let the fury gripping him reflect on his face. She sniffled and looked down again. “Stand up, Nina,” he said, helping her to her feet. “Let’s sit here and talk. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear it.”

He led her to a seat and poured her some more water which she gulped down so fast it leaked out the sides of her mouth. Forcing himself to be calm, he smiled, re-filled her glass then sat, waiting for her to still. Her huge eyes darted around the room, as if seeking escape, and her body language screamed panic. Evan stayed quiet, then reached across the table to cover her freezing cold hand with his. She relaxed ever so slightly at his touch. No big surprise, but somehow so sick and wrong he nearly had to get up and leave the room.

“Okay, Nina. Listen to me a minute.” He ducked down, made her meet his eyes. “I’m Evan Adams. I want to help you.”

A tear rolled down her mottled face. She put her hand on the distinct bump under her shirt. He took his hand off hers and gripped his knees. “I’m afraid of him,” she whispered, biting her dry lips and looking over her shoulder. “Nobody can help me now. He’ll find me. He said he would.”

“Nina, there is no way I can know what you’ve been through with… him and escaping from him. But I want you to understand I know who he is, very well. He hurt – ” Evan cleared his throat, regained his equilibrium. “He hurt a lot of people I love. And he killed my sister. Not directly, no, but he did, as surely as if he choked her with his own hands.”

Nina’s eyes got even wider. “I, um, I don’t have nothing to give you. I mean, money. Or stuff.”

“I don’t want anything from you except this.” He passed his business card across the table to her and held out both of his hands, palms up. “Call me. Every day if you want. I know they’ve found you a place to live until, um…” He felt his face get hot. “… until you have your baby.”

She frowned, and a look passed across her face that gave Evan hope. Maybe Damian hadn’t broken the poor girl completely. “Stupid. Stupid me. Stupid baby. Shit.” She sighed, then put her hands in his. “Okay, S-s-sir, I mean…” She looked down. “What can I do? I mean, I gave my description of him. Told the… lady what he d-d-did to me. What I let him do to me. For like a year. What else is there now? I don’t have my job anymore. My friends are afraid to contact me, thanks to him. And I gotta have a damn bastard – his bastard. Stupid kid’ll probably be just like him, too, my luck.”

Evan’s ears started ringing. Without stopping to think he stood, walked around the table, and pulled her into an embrace. She trembled, sobbed, and held onto him for dear life. He sent another prayer for forgiveness to Olivia, then held her at arm’s length. “Look me in the eyes, Nina. I mean it. I am not in charge of you in any way. You are an independent woman. You don’t have to answer to any person for anything you do. Do you hear me?”

A look of fear passed over her face. He sighed, calmed his voice. “I will pay for the doctor, the hospital, all of it. And I can help you find a job. I hear you almost have your degree in journalism, right?”

“Yeah. Whatever.” She wiped her nose with her sleeve. But he could tell she was waiting for him to tell her what to do next. He suppressed a heavy sigh. The guy had really done a number on her, and it would take a lot of time and effort to deprogram the damage.

“All right then, have a seat. I’ll send the social worker back. She’ll have details, and I’ll make sure you get settled before I…” He gulped.
Before you what, you lame douche bag? Go back to your stupid hotel room, ignoring your own wife – the woman you claimed you would protect, no matter what, while she carries your child? Sending her text messages telling her to arm an alarm without going there yourself to make sure she – and your child – are all right? All in the name of your precious pride, your stupid insistence on your way or the highway.

Evan swallowed, glanced down at Nina, put his hand on her shoulder, calming her again. A surge of resolve shot through him. He smiled as a stone lifted from his heart, although the small drumbeat of fear at the concept of Damian Slate anywhere near Julie kept thrumming. He crouched down next to Nina’s chair.

“I have to go. I need to go see my wife. But you have my number, and I’ll be talking to the social worker tonight and tomorrow. I’ll make sure you have money so you can get some clothes and whatever else you need. But,” he tilted her face up, “I also told her to get you re-enrolled in the community college. I want you to finish your degree.” He let a small edge of
bossy
slip into his tone.

At the sound of it, she brightened, her face finally losing some of the ugly fear and remorse. “Okay. He said I would do that too… before he… oh, never mind.” She slumped back. Evan patted her arm.

“You are safe now, Nina. And we – I – won’t ever let him near you again.” He started for the door in a hurry to get the hell out of there and back to Julie. His need to see her, to hold her made him ready to leap out of his skin. Because something was wrong… he could sense it. It was as if a tiny alarm had started buzzing in his subconscious. His hands shook when he touched the door knob.

“I loved him…” Her voice had shrunk again. He turned to look at her.

“I know. But he didn’t love you, Nina. He hurt you. And now you have to fight back.”

She nodded, tears flowing again. He took a breath, walked out of the stifling room, handed the cops his business card and told them he would call soon. After jumping into his car and screeching out onto Interstate 75, the mantra in his head kept him from flooring the fucking thing, letting the new Audi open up and show him what it could do.

His phone rang. Yet another unfamiliar number, one he’d seen earlier, flashed on his dashboard. He frowned and touched the phone button on the steering wheel.

“Adams!” A woman’s voice filled his car. “Have you talked to Julie this week?”

“Uh, no, Sara, I haven’t. But you know that, so why are you asking me hypothetical – ”

“Shut up, you ass. She got called back for another ultrasound. The doctor says he’s worried about something. I’m meeting her there because she won’t call you… God, you guys… never mind. Get over there, Evan, or so help me – ”

“U of M?” he asked, pulling onto I-94 pointed west and tempting every cop in a twenty-mile radius, smiling in spite of himself when the car roared to life. “I’ll be there.”

Chapter Nine

Julie drove to the University of Michigan Hospital complex, parked in one of the giant structures, found the obstetrician’s office, checked in, and took a seat. Fascinated by the varying sizes of all the pregnant women that filled the waiting room, she sucked on a mint, the only thing she could put in her mouth that did not make her want to hurl.

Sara rushed in and gave her a squeeze. They waited forever, then about forty-five minutes beyond, before her name was called. After clearing up the misunderstanding that they were a lesbian couple, Julie had a hard time suppressing giggles through the rest of the brief discussion with the nurse.

She’d been handed over to a “high-risk” team and she still couldn’t get her head around why. She was only in her thirties, for crying out loud and healthy as a horse. But before she could ask the questions she wanted, they handed her a gown, told her to disrobe, and make herself comfortable on the exam table.

Sara disappeared into the hallway telling her she’d be back for the ultrasound. Julie lay down, closed her eyes when the room spun, and tried to find a reason to be happy about any part of this bullshit situation.

It was what she wanted. She’d never believed Evan would just abandon her, leave behind his responsibility.
That’s what you get for listening to his dying, half-crazy mother. And for trusting him.

She sighed, put a hand on her flat stomach. The nurses had chastised her for dropping ten pounds since her last visit and given her some bland food ideas to try. A rogue tear slid out of her eye.

When the door opened Julie ignored it, keeping her arm beneath her head, needing to prop up some or she would have to get up and vomit again. All the words her husband had ever said in their most intense moments whirled through her mind. She cursed herself for believing any of it.

A perky radiologist walked in and tugged out the foot stirrups. “Okay, so I found Dad. They are usually late to these things.”

Julie sat up so fast she had to grip the sides of the table to keep from sliding off in a dead faint. Evan grabbed her but kept his distance and his face blank. Her heart pounded at his touch. She looked away, not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how relieved she was to see him. This whole thing had gone downhill the second she agreed to marry him. Part of her wished it all back, the part that wasn’t practically panting with need to have him wrap her in his arms and whisper in that way he had, reassuring her everything was all right.

“Okay, Julie, lie back. Give me a second.”

Evan raised an eyebrow at the long trans-vaginal ultrasound device. She frowned at him, put her feet in the stirrups, and took a breath.

“Why are we doing this again? Didn’t you do one at seven weeks?” he asked. Julie glanced at him. He’d been reading up, it seemed. Fine. She refused to meet his eyes.

“Oh, I thought Julie told you,” the radiologist said as she kept staring at the screen. “The doctor has a sneaking suspicion about something and wants to confirm it. And this is the best way, the earlier the better.”

Evan put a hand on her arm and the shivery, trembling feeling she’d been sustaining for nearly three months stopped, as if a switch were flipped. Her nerve endings flooded with a magical but annoying calm.
How did he do that?

She bit her lip and glanced at his face, marveling at its familiar, beloved, handsome perfection – and at how strong the urge was to punch him right between the eyes. He kept watching the doctor though, seemingly unaware of his effect, good or bad. Julie looked down at the hand that rested on her arm. His wedding ring glinted in the harsh fluorescent light.

His eyes shone as he met her gaze.
I’m sorry
, he mouthed and brushed her hair back.

She winced as the ultrasound device was inserted and went all the way up to what felt like her esophagus. Saliva flooded her mouth and she sucked in a breath. “Hang in there, dear,” the doctor murmured reassuringly, as she patted her leg and kept an eye on the monitor. Julie held back a sob as the side pain she’d been having shot through her again.

“Uh-huh,” the doctor said. “Sorry, Julie, your right ovary has developed a bit of a cyst, but it’s normal and should fade as the pregnancy progresses. It’s likely where both of the eggs came from.”

“
Both
of the… huh?” Evan’s voice faded at the end. His face drained of color. Julie gripped his arm, trying to make out anything from the fuzzy images on the monitor.

“Yes, you are carrying twins. We thought so, based on some of your lab results. Fraternal. I see two distinct embryonic sacs already.”

“Oh, Evan,” she whispered. “I’m gonna…”

Evan grabbed a small plastic bowl, and she held onto it but kept staring at the monitor. He clutched her other hand, and together they watched as the radiologist pointed out the tiny little peanut-looking things nestled end to end, growing inside her body.

* * * *

“You can go now,” Julie said, shouldering her purse and pulling her hair out from the coat collar. “Thanks for coming.” She was shaking all over, wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms, let him take care of her. But no, she’d learned that lesson. She gave him a neutral smile.

Evan stood in the hallway outside the doctor’s office, hands tucked into his trousers. Fucking man looked so good, better than he deserved to, but she was not falling for it, not again. He moved to the right, blocking her way when she tried to bypass him.

“Pardon me,” she muttered, looking down. “I’ve got this. You don’t want it, last I heard. So go on, you’re excused from playing the good daddy for the doctors.”

“Julie.” His voice was low, and compelled her in ways that at that moment did nothing but piss her the hell off.

“You are not my boss, Evan Adams. You do not get to declare yourself uninterested in me or my desire to have your child… your children… Jesus.” She ran a hand down her face. He tried to touch her face, but she jerked away, took several steps back, glaring at him, trying with all she had to maintain her independence. “You tricked me,” she hissed, crossing her arms. Nausea floated through her again, but she bit it back. “No, do not talk. Just listen. You,” she poked a finger at his chest, closing her eyes when she got a nose full of his clean, distinctly Evan scent, “are a faker. A fucking liar and an immature child. You do not get to play with me, toy with my body, my heart, and my mind. Then when things get too messy for your taste, just leave me behind like a knocked-up prom date. I will not let you do this to me.” She lost the battle and let the tears flow, as she gripped her elbows trying to quell the violent shakes that had her in their embarrassing clutches.