All the hairs on my body stand on end as Jett comes on the line. “Follow the instructions. Come alone or she’s dead.”
“Listen, you sick fuck. If you so much as touch a hair on her head or harm the baby in any way…”
The line goes dead before I can finish my sentence.
Jett’s a dead man.
Chapter 16
Molly
I scowl as Jett turns and looks at me. His walnut brown eyes are hard as steel and the rest of his face is expressionless. He lacks emotion. I hopelessly wriggle in my tight bonds. He’s tied me up with ropes around my ankles and wrists, and secured me to the chair with more rope around my shoulders. No matter how much I struggle, I can’t break free. Axe is in the same boat, but worse. Jett bound him with industrial snow chains. It’s useless.
“Jett, what’s going on? Are you okay, honey?” I ask in a pleading voice, using every bit of feminine charm at my disposal. It’s in my best interest to keep Jett happy until Tate and the guys find us in this creepy warehouse.
From the time he kidnapped us to the phone call with Tate, I’ve said precisely what he wants, going along with his delusion that relationship never ended. He was over the moon with happiness. Until the last few seconds of the phone call.
His disposition now is agitated at best. I don’t know what Tate could’ve possibly said to undo the groundwork I laid through sweetly spun lies and fake affection for Jett.
But it’s Tate. He only needs to breathe to stir up trouble.
“Talk to me, love. Don’t shut me out.”
“Don’t call me that,” Jett snaps, shoving his cell phone into his pocket, running his hands through his thick, shoulder-length chestnut brown hair.
I remain silent. Maybe he’ll let me in on why he’s upset.
I battle a wave of nausea in my stomach. I don’t know if it’s the stress of being kidnapped, or physically being tied up in the same position that caused it. It only started after Jett took us. But who knows. I’ve fought, drank, been beaten and punched, choked, and now kidnapped. All while pregnant. I silently pray that if I get out of here in one piece, it’ll be the last time I expose my unborn child to the stress and adrenaline, bad vibes and chemicals that course through me. I may have to leave this part of the country behind, but if that’s what I need to do to provide a nurturing environment for him or her, I’ll do it. And I’ll read every baby book known to man.
“You’re pregnant, Molly?”
That’s what he’s found out.
“I can explain.”
“You’re pregnant, and I treated you this way! I’m a fucking barbarian, a beast. I’m not fit to kiss your feet. How can you ever forgive me? I didn’t know…if I did…”
While he frets like an old woman, I’m lost for words. He can’t possibly think…it’s his? It would take alien math, a one-year holding pattern, plus magic more potent than Houdini and Criss Angel combined for the baby to be his. I haven’t slept with him for well over a year.
More proof that the man is crazy.
Still, his deranged belief is more likely to keep me safe than if I dare to burst his bubble and tell him he’s not the father. I arch a brow while his back is turned, and spin this surprise in a completely different direction. I could make this work. But I’ll need a new plan when Tate arrives. I can’t let the two of them fight. Jett outweighs Tate by a good hundred pounds, and he’s highly skilled in mixed martial arts.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.
“I…didn’t want to tell you until I was farther along. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. It was a…surprise.” That part is true.
“Fuck, here I am chasing you across the country and trying to win you back when I didn’t even need to try that hard. A part of me was always with you…” He kneels in front of me, placing a repulsive hand on my still flat stomach, touching it with reverence. “A little boy. You’ve brought me an heir, my sweet angel.”
Sure, let’s go with that, even though he can’t be more wrong. Just as he can’t possibly know the sex of the baby only by looking at me either. But with a fifty percent chance of being right, everyone wants to weigh in on my pregnancy and take a wild guess.