HIS BABY TO BEAR - NINETEEN

C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N

"I suppose I could come in. I make a mean Bolognese," Jerome said, casually leaning against the doorframe of her front door.

He gave her that up-and-down look, and his tongue slipped over his lips in the most infuriating way. She had a good idea of what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing. How good it would feel to let him spend the night, to have dinner, to tuck Reid Andrew into bed, and then... the grin he wore told her that he knew what was going through her mind. Yeah, she wasn't very good at keeping that stuff hidden.

"You could, but that would be very forward, Mr. Nicolas, and would violate our agreement to take things slowly."

"You're the one with the dirty mind here, honey," he chuckled.

"Right. "Goodbye, Jerome," she muttered as she smiled.

"I'll be here at noon tomorrow. Don't lose sight of that."

"I'm not going to."

Jerome leaned in and kissed Reid Andrew, who was sleeping in Libby's arms, on the cheek. Then he kissed her on the cheek, lingering for a second too long. The heat stung her skin like an electric shock. She could barely swallow the moan that was choking her throat. He was in a good mood.

He drew back, and she was closing the door when he came to a halt, breathing deeply and frowning.

"Did you get yourself a dog or something?"

" He asked, his brow furrowed.

"No. Stop making excuses and get going! It's already dark outside, and I need my beauty sleep, please! " she objected, slamming the door in front of him with a grin.

What wouldn't he do if he was invited in? She didn't seem to mind. She actually liked how adamant he was about being around them. That he'd been patient, kind, and truthful with her. It gave her pause and a glimmer of hope that things might work out.

She carefully closed the door and carried Reid Andrew to the living room. She gently placed him on the couch, where he promptly curled up around his teddy, soundly sleeping. The brown box next to her laptop remained unopened. Something strange was in the air, and a chill ran down Libby's spine. She wasn't sure what it was as she looked around the room.

She cursed under her breath when she noticed the window was slightly ajar. She was never that irresponsible.

Libby approached the window and began to close it when she heard a heavy thud of footsteps. She spun around quickly and was confronted by the form of her nightmare come to life. A man in black, with cold, ruthless eyes, charged toward her, every step deliberate. And he wasn't the only one. She let out a bloodcurdling scream as she ducked out of his grasp and turned left to avoid him. Her vision blurred as adrenaline rushed through her veins, making everything appear to move in slow motion.

No way, no and no. No way, fuck no! Not like this!

She wasn't as fast as him. No way, no how. But maybe she'll be able to reach Reid Andrew? Because of his exhaustion, the baby was still sleeping, completely unaware of what was going on around him. But when the unidentified man grabbed Libby by the hip and threw her into the couch, crashing down right next to Reid Andrew, he awoke with a start as well.

"Reid Andrew!"

Libby screamed, her lungs becoming hoarse. "Give him up! "

The man in black wasn't the only one. Above her, another figure appeared. As Libby struggled to keep hold of him, the baby cried as loudly as his little lungs could, reaching for his teddy bear, which had been left on the couch. Though Libby was kicking and punching at them on her back on her peach-colored couch, the man managed to pry him out of her grip.

When Reid Andrew was taken from her, she heard a train crashing through the building. With one thud, followed by another, the front door burst open, revealing Jerome.

"Get your fucking hands off of them," he yelled as he charged forward.

The man who had grabbed Reid Andrew snarled and bolted. He turned his shoulder in front of him and smashed through the glass of one of her tall windows, scattering glass shards everywhere. The other assailant wasn't as quick, but he was still trying to get Libby off the couch and onto her feet. She punched him in the nose, causing him to wince in pain long enough for Jerome to slam into him from the side, knocking him to the ground.

They grappled for what seemed like an eternity but was only a second or two, while Jerome looked toward the window through which Reid Andrew had been taken. The man in black almost killed him when he pulled a knife from his boot and thrust it forward. Only Libby's warning shriek caused Jerome to react in time, twisting the knife away from him.

Libby saw the knife hovering precariously between their bodies until Jerome could angle it downward, and both men growled like caged beasts. He put his entire weight on it, and the attacker was sprawled out, lifeless, a split second later. Jerome leapt to his feet and dashed to the window, Libby trailing him now that she had a path to it. She walked over the dead man bleeding on her floor as if he didn't exist, leaving a deep crimson puddle on her cream carpet, just like the man she had once known and loved had.

She was trembling all over. She was no longer the leaf she had been that night on the rooftop, but an enraged, angry mama bear driven to hysteria. Libby could feel glass shards digging into her bare feet as she gazed out the window, or what had once been a window but was now just a hole in the wall, into the yard. It was pitch black outside, and she couldn't see anything.

Jerome was already climbing the windowsill, his nostrils flared and the veins on his neck bulging, his face flushed. She snatched his arm, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her teeth clenched.

She felt completely helpless, standing there wishing she could do something, anything. They'd kidnapped her child, and she was just... useless.

"I'm going to find those motherfuckers, Libby. Go to your friend's. Go to Raven's. text me the address. I'll find Reid Andrew or I'll figure out how to find him, okay?" he said, his voice as tense as hers.

He was huddled on the windowsill, his arms bloodied and sweat beading on his brow. He looked ridiculous in the bright lights of her living room, against the black backdrop of approaching night, with the warm air wafting in.

"Bring my baby back," she pleaded, oblivious to the fact that tears streamed down her cheeks in torrents she couldn't stop.

"I promise," he growled as he leapt from the windowsill.

His body morphed and changed in front of her eyes, enlarging. His smooth skin became tufted with hair, and his arms and legs thickened and widened. He went from two to four legs, and his beautiful face morphed into the fearsome maw of a large grizzly bear. Jerome didn't even pause to huff in the air. He simply jumped over her fence and turned left, as if he was certain that was the path they had taken.

Libby was hyperventilating as she stood at the window. It became even clearer when Jerome vanished from view, into the darkness. She took a deep breath in, attempting to calm herself and bring everything under control. But she couldn't do it.

Why?!

It was the only real thought racing through her mind. What made them choose Reid Andrew? Why did they give a fuck? They could have kidnapped her. That would have been perfectly fine. But what about her child? That was the case... She was at a loss for words in response to the cruelty.

She walked away from the window, numbly, on autopilot. She was passing by the table where the box was still sitting when she stopped and grabbed it, more out of reflex than anything else. She fished out the stack of photographs in it, tearing the top she'd already pried loose. Picture after picture of her at home, in her yard, and out with Raven that night. Reid Andrew was being held by her on some of them. She'd been caught on one of them with Jerome, walking down the street, laughing as they made their way toward her house.

She wanted to scream again, but she couldn't get anything out of her throat. The only thing that all of those images had in common was that they were all looking for her. They had painstakingly photographed and cataloged her. Her son was now paying the price.

Her fist balled around the images, and she stuffed them into her purse, taking them with her as she stepped through the empty, jagged hole that had been her front door. Libby made no attempt to close the gaping hole. It didn't make a difference. It didn't matter that there was a dead man on her floor, either.

The only thing that mattered were her baby's cries for his mother and the man she was falling in love with desperate attempts to save him. And, as far as Libby could tell, it was entirely her fault.