I explain how after I found her missing from the diner I went to the motel and convinced Janice at the front desk to walk through the room with me. It was empty, stripped of anything personal that could give us a clue.
All I know is that her first name is Rosalind. “I spent hours Googling every iteration of her name, trying to find a Facebook profile or a Google image – anything. But there is nothing on her anywhere.”
“She just vanished?” Harper asks.
Jax and I exchange a knowing look. No one vanishes. Rosie was taken.
“Did you contact the Sheriff’s department again? They could put out a missing person alert.”
“Except I don’t have a photograph, and when the cops interviewed Janice, she told them plainly that Rosie walked in of her own accord and checked out. No one was being coerced, so far as she could tell. I can’t actually prove anything.”
“Fuck, man,” Jaxon says, shaking his head as he dishes Harper up a plate of food. “Here you go, baby.”
We eat in silence, my story having created a somber mood. Even the babies seem to realize it, seeing as they eat their carrots in relative quiet.
“Thank you for having me over tonight. I know you guys have a lot going on.” After taking a few bites I add, “And this food is amazing, Harper. “
“Sounds like Rosie knew her way around a kitchen too,” Harper says, swirling the wine in her glass.
“Way to pour salt on the poor man’s wound,” Jaxon says laughing.
“I didn’t mean any harm by it,” Harper frowns. “It’s just, I’m sad too. I want to meet this woman who so easily wooed a mountain man like Buck. She must have been pretty special.”
“Doesn’t matter now,” I say, running my hand over my beard. “She’s gone. She decided to leave. And the truth is, she didn’t want me to find her. If she had, she’d have left a clue, a number, a name. Anything.”
“So you just move on?” Jaxon asks.
“Didn’t you do the same thing after I left you, Jax, and went back home? You tried to move on?” Harper asks quietly. “Maybe Rosie had somewhere she needs to be right now, but maybe when she’s ready, she’ll return.”
I nod, looking around their beautiful home, their happy children, the love that so clearly covers every single log laid in this cabin. “How long do I wait for her? Because the truth is, I’d wait forever if it means I’ll end up having a life like the two of you.”
“Then don’t give up, Buck,” Jaxon says. “Get your shit together so when she returns you can be the man she needs.”
10
Planning an escape from the mob is no easy feat. Not for a healthy young man or a strong woman, and certainly not for a woman who is eight and a half months pregnant. Certainly not for a woman who has unborn children already purchased.
After the genetic testing, it was confirmed that I have two strong, healthy, female babies growing in my belly. No complications, no red flags.
I’m not surprised. Their father had a heart like no other man I’ve ever met.
He was good. Kind. Gentle.
I’m banking on his generosity right now.
In fact, it’s all I have to go on. Maybe I’m grasping at straws; looking for something that never existed.
But I know Buck would have fought to the death for me. When I left, I was only thinking of his safety. I didn’t know I was carrying his daughters.
But now I do.
And I sure as hell can’t go into labor here. If I do the babies will be taken from my arms and whisked away to a couple in Russia, who apparently are unable to conceive – not to mention the husband is a mob boss.
They paid in cold hard cash for my children.
Of course I haven’t seen a dime, not that I’d expect to, or even want to.
The whole thing makes me sick.
The fact that I’m carrying daughters only confirms my resolve to get the hell out of here before they are born.
The moment they come into the world, that is the moment their lives are as good as over.
This world of crime is no place for a girl.
No place for me.
I need to get out of here tonight.
There are thirty-eight dollars in my pocket, all I have in the world. I can’t risk packing any clothes, any preparations for the night only put a target on my back.
Instead, I wear two sweaters to bed, shove gloves in my winter coat. I get up in the dark of night, tiptoe to the exit, and walk through the mansion with my eyes lowered. Hoping that as I walk through the shadows no one will see me, find me. Restrain me. Sedate me.
Hoping I can leave before I am found.
My heart races as I fumble with the stolen keys to unlock the door in the kitchen.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Latvia asks, coming up behind me, causing me to rattle the keys, my hands shaking, my fear knowing no bounds.