The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(145)

Three Months Later



“What are you two doing? I can’t believe you kidnapped me! Do you know there are laws against this?” I cry, my heart still racing in my chest.

I’m in the back of Roman’s limousine with Bruno. Allen is driving. Apparently, the mole on the inside of Roman’s business was Robert, and he used the maid Mayra as his personal spy. No wonder the bitch had it out for me from the start. Allen told me that a month ago. It surprised me, but I was glad that Roman finally knew who the guy in his organization was. I was relieved even though it had nothing to do with me anymore—which is why I’m panicked at the thought of being in Roman’s car.

I made a clean break from Roman. I even moved to Georgia to start my life over again. The last thing I need is to be anywhere near him right now. My hand goes to my stomach—my very pregnant stomach. There’s definitely no hiding the baby bump now. No, at almost six months pregnant, there’s no hiding. I pull the heavy coat I’m wearing tighter around me. At least Allen gave me this coat. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I need something to hide the fact that I’m pregnant from Roman if I see him again.

“The boss needs you,” Bruno says, or rather, repeats. That’s all he or Allen have been saying since they broke into my house before dawn this morning and manhandled me into the limo. Okay, carried—and rather delicately, really, considering I’m getting so fat.

“And I told you, I doubt Roman would want me anywhere near him. Whatever is going on, you need to find someone else to help him,” I respond, not bothering to ask what in the world he needed me for, since they haven’t answered the other hundred times I’ve asked.

Silence.

I didn’t expect anything else. It’s evening now and, except for a few quick stops for restroom and food breaks, we’ve driven all day. In fact, I figure in an hour I’ll be at Roman’s house. With each mile that we travel, my nerves and panic kick up. When we turn into Roman’s private driveway, I can literally taste my fear.

“Allen, please don’t do this. Take me back home.”

“Sis, Roman—”

“I don’t want him to keep me because he knows I’m pregnant, Allen. I deserve better than that,” I tell him, and then it hits me. “Oh, God. Is that it, Allen? Does Roman know I’m pregnant and wants to take my baby?” My hand goes to my stomach, wrapping around it as if to protect him from the unknown threat.

Allen stops the car to look back at me. He cups my shoulder gently with understanding. If anything good has come out of this whole mess, it’s that Allen and I have grown close.

“He doesn’t know about the baby, Ana. I promise you. You are needed. You’ll understand when you see him.” I swallow, unable to hide the panic on my face. “I promise that I will take you back home the moment you ask me, Ana. Trust me.”

I bite my lips, but shake my head yes. There’s little I can do about it now.

“I’ll be outside for an hour, Ana. Just come out if you need me,” Allen says a little later when he opens the front door.

“You’re leaving me?” I ask, nearly choking on the fear.

“I’ll just be outside, sis. I promise.”

I close my eyes as the shutting of the door sounds so final. My nose wrinkles at the musty smell of Roman’s house. It always smelled like fresh outdoors and pine. Did his cleaning crew quit? I walk through the darkened foyer, my hand automatically feeling for the light switch on the wall because the house is completely dark. Fear swamps me. I pull the coat more towards my front, doing my best to hide my baby-bump. Was Roman in an accident? Did something happen? Is that why they wanted me here?

“Roman?” I call out, my voice little more than a whisper. When I hear nothing back, I take a breath and try to strengthen myself. “Roman?”

I stop and listen. I hear the faint sound of someone coming from Roman’s den. I make my way there, turning on the lights. What I see in the main living room stops me in my tracks. There are empty liquor bottles everywhere, Styrofoam containers that, from the smell, now contain remnants of moldy take-out. I pull one back just to be sure and instantly close it when I take in the green and white remnants of what I think used to be a half-eaten hamburger. There’s empty soda cans and pizza boxes too. The once pristine white carpet will probably never be clean again. What the hell has been going on here?

I make it to the den, my hand stalling on the doorknob as I gather up what little courage I have. I open it, my nose curling in disgust. The stench is even worse in here. The room is completely dark. I flip on a lamp that’s on a table by the door. The room floods with light and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust. Even then, it takes me a minute to understand what I’m seeing. Roman is laying on the floor, his hair grown out ridiculously long for him, the dark bangs lying haphazardly over his eyes. He’s wearing a t-shirt that I think is supposed to be white, but has obviously been through a war with beer and pizza—and lost. He has on gray jogging pants that are riding low on his hips and he’s staring straight at me, his eyes bloodshot.

“Roman?” I ask, because God’s honest truth, I can’t be sure. The man I’m staring at is nothing like the Roman, I know.

“The bitch who haunts me,” he slurs. “What are you doing here, pet? You’re early. You’re not supposed to haunt my dreams until I pass out.” He holds up a half empty bottle of whiskey, shaking it at me. “I still have some to go before I get there.”