Lace and Bullets(40)
Oh, God. She walked toward the display and stood there, staring at them like a zombie.
“Do you need some help?”
Mia snapped her head up. A middle-aged woman stood in front of her wearing a white lab coat and a placid smile.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m the pharmacist here today. Do you need some help choosing a test?”
Mia blinked in slow motion. “Um…” She swallowed. “Yes, thanks.”
The woman smiled again and turned toward the shelves. She picked up two boxes. “This one is for early detection. It’s pretty accurate if you’re eager to know as soon as possible, but it does give a false negative on occasion.”
She waved the box in her other hand. “This one is more accurate, but you need to wait a bit longer to use it. Which would work better?”
Mia could barely talk. “I’ll take both.”
“Great. I can ring you up if you like.”
She followed the woman to the back of the store and put the sunglasses and hat she had grabbed on the counter.
“First baby?”
Somehow she managed to nod.
“It can be overwhelming, I know. But just take it one day at a time.” The pharmacist turned and grabbed a bottle off the shelf behind her. “These are the best prenatal vitamins. Want me to add them to your things?”
Mia felt like the whole world had been dropped into a vat of clear Jell-O. Her brain felt fuzzy, her limbs, thick. Speaking took serious effort.
She nodded.
The pharmacist kept talking, but Mia couldn’t hear her. All she could think about was the chance she was pregnant with Damien’s child. A man wanted by the police and the most powerful criminals in the state.
A white bag entered her vision and she took it. The pharmacist squawked some words of encouragement and Mia mumbled a vague reply. She couldn’t pretend her life wasn’t about to fall apart.
She stumbled out of the pharmacy and down the hall to the bathrooms. The family bathroom was open and she slipped inside and locked the door. Thank God.
Being alone gave her a chance to breathe.
She gripped the sink’s edge, sucking in gulps of air as she stared at her reflection. Could she do this? Did she have a choice?
With shaking fingers she tried to open the first box. Over and over she tugged on the stiff cardboard until at last it gave way. Then she opened the second. She wanted to be sure.
A few minutes later, the sticks sat on the edge of the sink. Mia refused to look. She paced the tiny room, counting the tiles on the floor, wringing her hands back and forth.
At last, she stopped moving and faced the sink. I can do this. I can do this.
She closed her eyes. Counted to ten. Looked at the pregnancy tests.
Holy shit.
Two lines.
Her big brown eyes stared back at her in the mirror as her hand slipped to her flat belly. I’m pregnant.
She had always wanted a family. A white picket fence and a house in the suburbs. A family sedan and a nine-to-five job. A good husband.
Her gaze fell to the tests perched on the sink.
Not a man who was looking at life in prison if he ever got caught. Maybe worse.
With a cry of anguish, she gathered up everything on the counter and scooped it into the trash. The empty boxes, the tests, her sanity. All of it.
Mia turned on the faucet full-blast and splashed her face. The icy cold mixed with her tears and washed down the drain.
She could run. She could bail on Damien and rush into that police substation and claim he had kidnapped her. She could tell them all about Marcelo and what he did to her. How her father was murdered and why.
She could sell Damien out and watch the father of her child go to prison.
The water kept running in the sink, drowning out her sobs. It did nothing to stop the pain in her chest.
No matter how much sense going to the police made, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave Damien.
She thought about how he saved her from that brute on the waterfront. How he took her mini-golfing to cheer her up when they were on the run. How for the last three weeks she had wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms and wake up the same way.
He might be a stone cold killer, but he would never hurt her. And she would never leave him.
Mia turned off the water and hit the button for the hand dryer. The hot air dried her skin and calmed her nerves. She wasn’t letting the father of her baby go to jail and she wasn’t letting him be killed by Marcelo.
There was only one thing to do.
She gathered her things and turned on her throwaway cell phone. Thank God Damien had insisted on getting them the other day.
“Hello.”
“It’s Mia.”
“I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“I need your help.”
“Anything.” Steven’s voice always edged into flattery when he sensed a victory.