So far, they were clean. No, Tara hadn’t told them. I checked my watch, and it was just about seven in the morning. As I walked up her driveway, I figured her parents had just left for church.
It took me a few seconds to pick their front door lock and slip inside. I shut the door softly behind me and glanced at the stairs leading up.
I could easily sneak up and give Tara a nice surprise. I was willing to bet she’d thank me for it.
Instead, I went into the kitchen and started cooking breakfast.
Not long later, Tara came downstairs just as I was just finishing up the bacon. She stopped, stared at me, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and then stared at me again.
“My, mother,” she said, “how big you’ve gotten.”
I grinned at her. “The better to make your body sweat, my dear.”
She shook her head and crossed her arms. “Why did you break into my house?”
“Cooking you breakfast.”
“That seems like something an insane person would do.”
“Probably,” I said, grinning. “But this is fucking delicious.”
She sighed and sat down at the table. “Coffee?”
“Sure.” I poured her a mug and put it in front of her. “Eggs, bacon, pancakes?”
She sighed, almost as if she were resigned to her fate. “All three, please.”
I made her up a plate and put it in front of her. “Enjoy.”
She took a bite of the eggs. “Seriously, why did you break into my house?”
“I haven’t seen anything from Omar, which worries me. I wasn’t leaving you alone in this house.”
“Mason will be up soon,” she said.
“Mason can’t protect you,” I pointed out.
“He’s stronger than he looks.”
“Of course he is. He’s my son after all. I bet that toddler could take most grown men in a fight, no problem.”
“Is that how you measure strength?”
“It’s the only strength I know, princess.” I made myself a plate and sat down across from her, digging in.
I could feel her watching me, and that was fine. This was a weird situation, and she needed to get used to the idea of me being around.
At least until Omar was caught. Past that, who knew what was going to happen.
“I didn’t tell them, you know,” she said.
“I know.”
“How?”
“You didn’t call the police.”
She paused. “You’re monitoring our calls or something?”
“I am, but that’s not how I know.”
She clenched her jaw. “You can’t spy on us.”
“I’m just checking to make sure Omar doesn’t contact you. I’m not listening.”
“Emory, this is so weird.”
I put my fork down and sipped my coffee. “I know that. I get it. But the threat is real.”
“Is it? Can you show me proof?”
I grinned and reached into my pocket. I handed her the photograph with the Urdu writing on the back.
She shook her head. “Fuck. Really?”
“Really. And the words basically say that they know who I am and who Mason is.”
She looked at me, terror in her eyes. “They know?”
“I don’t know how. I guess they kept tabs on you after you left the resort and put two and two together.”
“So this is real,” she whispered.
“It’s real, princess. Very real.”
“Should we tell my parents?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Let’s only tell people who really need to know for now.”
“Aren’t they in danger too?”
“I doubt it. Omar isn’t stupid. He won’t waste his one chance to get at me by hurting your parents.”
Just then, the sound of a crying baby filled the room.
I made a face. “He do that every morning?”
“Sure does,” Tara said, standing.
I stood faster. “I’ll get him.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “That’s okay.”
“At least let me bring him down.”
She looked at me, lips pursed, and finally nodded. “Fine. Bring him right now.”
I walked around the table and stopped next to her, stooping down to put my lips against her ear. “While you’re down here, think about the night we made him. Think about the way I made that fucking sweet body of yours feel.”
Before she could respond, I walked past and headed upstairs.
I didn’t know a damn thing about babies. I knew they pissed, shit, cried, and needed to be fed. That was pretty much the extent of what I knew.
So it was pretty fucking weird to walk into the nursery and see my son lying there, crying loudly.
“Good morning, little boy,” I said. I gently scooped him up into my arms.