Dave stepped out of the elevator into the hospital parking garage and headed to the right toward his car. It was well after three thirty in the morning, and he’d been in the same scrubs for more than half the day. He didn’t have much to complain about. It was a once a month, twelve-hour shift and the rest of the time he worked a standard forty-hour week. Aside from removing an appendix and patching up some non-fatal gunshot victims, his night hadn’t been too bad. He stretched his neck to the side until it popped, and then did it again on the other side. Regardless, being clean and climbing into bed beside his wife were top priority on his to do list.
He slid into his red BMW and looked at the text Ally had sent before she went to sleep.
Have your gun ready. It’s show time.
He chuckled. In other words: Her ovulation window had slid wide open, and she needed his sperm. His friends had warned him how the whole erection-on-demand part of baby making would take all the pleasure out of sex. Dave wasn’t so sure he believed them. After all, his wife waited at home for him—naked. The image put a smile on his face.
The sexual festivities were the fun part of the process. Especially now that their roles had reversed, and she followed him around begging him to strip naked and fill her up. He sat a little taller. Yeah, he really, really enjoyed that part. It was the screaming, red-faced, eighteen-plus year investment result that sounded miserable. But she swore as soon as he held their baby and saw it smile at him, he’d be singing another tune. Of course he had his doubts, but maybe a baby would make the faraway look she got so often finally go away. It was the one part of her he couldn’t touch.
The same look she’d get if he told her about the email on his computer from last week. His fingers gripped the wheel. He’d planned to tell her the same evening it showed up, but then she did something that had left him speechless. She laughed. It was a different kind of laugh than he’d heard from her in a long time. The kind that made his eyes burn with emotion and left him hungry for more. The kind that said she’d finally climbed out of the dark hole she’d been stuck in for way too long. The email would have only tossed her right back in; at least it’s what he kept telling himself whenever his conscience kicked him in the balls. Balls which had much more important things to do.
Droplets of rain beaded against the windshield when he pulled out of the parking garage. He turned on the wipers then his radio and headed for home. Dave scanned the mostly deserted road. Philadelphia streets weren’t so bad at three forty in the morning. The deep voice of the sports announcer filled his cabin with statistics about the Eagles and their upcoming season, but it was the date the man mentioned that caught Dave’s attention. His mouth dropped. How could he have forgotten? He got Ally back three years ago to the day. People died in the process, including the asshole who’d dragged her into hell in the first place. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. She’d almost died—twice. Sometimes he found himself wondering what would have happened if the old man, Nasif, hadn’t tracked him down and told him where she was.
He shook the thought from his head. None of it mattered because she was safe and home, waiting to make a baby with him. The corners of his mouth quirked up. Ally was one of the strongest people he knew. Hell, it wasn’t too long ago that the prospect of them having sex seemed impossible. Speaking of which, he should have known better than to think they’d need all eight hours of the play list he made. After a couple of times of using it, Ally put it aside and said she wanted to be able to orgasm with him—without the music. His chest puffed up. And she had on multiple occasions. But he wanted her to listen to it, especially the last half hour. He’d put in some serious time and swallowed his pride creating that particular set. Maybe he’d turn it on when he got home during their baby making.
Dave scanned the roads around him and glanced in his rearview mirror. There wasn’t a cop in sight, and aside from the distant headlights of the only other car on the road behind him, and the tiny speck of a person on the sidewalk miles ahead, the place was empty. He pressed his foot down on the gas. The engine revved, making his grin stretch.
As he pushed his car to move faster, the figure he’d seen in the distance stepped off the sidewalk and into the path of his vehicle, staring directly at him. Dave slammed on his brakes. The pedal shook under his foot as the anti-lock system activated. His lungs turned into solid masses of ice, and his hands clenched the steering wheel as he willed the man to get out of the way. It was then he got a better view of the person. Eyes the size of hockey pucks stared back through the front window. Familiar eyes he hadn’t seen in three years. After an eternity, the car came to a full stop, its bumper barely pressing against the man’s legs.
Mouth wide open, he stayed frozen in his seat, his fingers remained glued to the wheel as the realization of what almost happened sunk in. The man pointed at something behind Dave and then ran away. Dave looked over his shoulder in time to see the white SUV before it slammed into him.
Ally sat straight up in her bed, drenched in tears and sweat. Terror lay heavy on her chest, making it impossible to breathe. Her body shook. She tucked her head between her knees and worked on taking slow, deep breaths until the panic attack subsided.
Once her lungs calmed to normal, she climbed out of bed and checked the clock. It was close to four in the morning. She hadn’t had a panic attack in months, but she should have been prepared for this one. After all, three years ago today she had finally escaped her hell.
Although the cause of the panic attack had been established, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming fear still squeezing her lungs. She checked her cell and saw Dave’s text.
He’ll be home soon. We’ll make a baby and then everything will be better. The thought eased her. She went to the bathroom.
“Sayeed is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore,” she whispered over and over as she splashed icy water against her skin.
An hour later, Ally had thrown on some clothes and paced the living room with her cell in her hand. She’d called David a couple times and he hadn’t answered. A nagging sense of doom made her hands unsteady, and no amount of self-talk seemed to help. Until he came home safe, she wouldn’t feel right. She needed him home. Soon.
By six, Ally gave in to her fear and left David’s boss, Jerry, a message. Fifteen minutes later, she called her baby sister, who lived four stories above her. As soon as a sleepy Rey answered the phone, Ally’s doorbell rang. She let out a breath of relief and ran to answer it. Instead of the green-eyed, brown-haired man she hoped to find, her gaze fixed on Jerry and the police.
Her world spun as soon as she saw the look on Jerry’s face. At first it turned slow, but the more she stared at his bloodshot eyes and the lines creasing his brow, it spun faster. She shook her head and stepped back, slamming the door in their faces. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. This was just a dream. A really bad dream.