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Chapter Ten

Jolie

Nerves pool in my gut. It’s either that or the fact that for the last few days, I have started to feel the babies move. Nope, definitely nerves.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror and smooth down the loose maxi dress I decided to wear to lunch with Melinda. It wouldn’t normally be my first choice, but Sinclair swears by them. Even though summer is coming to an end, it’s still insanely hot.

“What’s wrong?” Davis asks from the doorway. He must have just finished up a workout, as it’s rare to see him shirtless. His blank canvas is a vast difference to the other guys—even Brennan has a couple of tattoos.

“I feel like an idiot in this dress. Nothing fits anymore.”

He enters the room and comes to stand in front of me. “I have to admit, this dress really isn’t flattering.”

I sigh in frustration. “Damn, Sinclair usually has good taste.”

“Let’s see if we can find you something else.”

He walks over to the small closet and flicks through the dresses and T-shirts I have hanging up. He moves past one before he goes back, pulling it from the rack. “What about this?”

“It could work, but it might be too short.”

He hands me the white sundress that I never would have thought of wearing to lunch. I would normally wear it to the beach over my bikini. Pulling the long maxi dress off, I throw it to the floor. Once I remove the white sundress from its hanger, I hold it in front, hoping it has just enough length to cover everything. Davis steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my belly, lightly resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I’m not sure your tits will fit in the dress.” He chuckles. “They have grown massive.”

“Only one way to find out.”

He steps back and spins me around to face him. He helps me get the dress over my head and pulls it down. Once all my bits are inside the dress, he takes a step back, and his eyes wander over me. The butterflies pool in my stomach as his eyes linger on my lips.

“I’m now suddenly grateful it’s my night with you because you look absolutely stunning. Not that I deserve you after the way I treated you when you came back.”

Reaching out, I take his hands and force him to take a step closer to me. “Davis Moore, you’re the boy of my dreams. With your boy next door charm, you wear your heart on your sleeve, and love deeply. I know how hurt you must have been when you thought I died, and the confusion you felt once I was back, but that’s all history now. Now you’re mine, and you can make it up to me for the rest of your life,” I say, pushing up on my toes and pressing my lips lightly against his.

“Is that so?” he whispers against my lips.

“Mmhmm,” I murmur. “I take forgiveness payments in the form of blue M I like to see what’s behind me, to know all my exits.

“Hi,” I say, coming up beside her. She is running her hand nervously across a box that’s placed on the table in front of her.

“Jolie, you look... pregnant,” she says with a small chuckle.

I slide into the booth opposite her. “I feel very pregnant.”

A distant look of sadness washes over her, and I know it must be hard for her to not remember me. I couldn’t imagine how that would feel. The strong connection I already feel to my babies.

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long to meet up, but I have had so much on my mind with the letter and how weird Ziyon has been...”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

Marlow stops at our table and places an orange juice in front of me and a coffee in front of Melinda. “The lady said you ordered coffee, so I got you another one.”

“Thank you. What a sweet boy.” She offers him a small smile.

“He has his moments,” I tell her. Marlow smiles in return and goes to join Davis. “What’s in the box?”

“Ziyon has been out of town, and I went snooping around. I found these. With you being pregnant, I thought you might be interested.”

She opens the lid of the old shoebox, and there are photos and what looks to be a diary. She pulls out a photo and hands it to me. I look at the black-and-white image and can immediately tell it’s an old photo, definitely older than me. Upon closer inspection, I realise it’s a picture of Ziyon and Mr Z, and they don’t look to be more than a few years old. I study the picture carefully and hand it back to her. She places it back in the box and places the lid back on and slides it my way.

“Are you sure? What if Ziyon realises it’s missing?”

She shrugs. “I have come to realise there is so much he isn’t telling me. That he refuses to. He has been good to me all these years, but I have to ask myself why he didn’t tell me about you. Do you remember the story you told me about how you got your memories back?”

I nod.

“Do you think it would work for me?” She fidgets a bit in her seat as she asks.

“It’s funny you mention that. I was too afraid to ask you over text in case your phone is being monitored, but I talked to Chester, and he really isn’t sure, but he is happy to try if you want it.”

“I do. I need to know. Having relied on him for so long, and now, after Zacari’s letter and finding you, I no longer know if he was protecting me or keeping me for himself.”

“Whenever you’re ready, we can do it.”

“What about today?” she asks.

I bite my lip and look at Davis. I hate feeling like I might not be able to trust her.

Davis gets up from his seat and walks towards us. He slides into the seat beside me. “What’s up?”

“I need to ask Melinda something, but I need you.”

Melinda looks confused, just as I expected her to be. “I need you to hold your arms out across the table.”

She looks at me, and I nod. “Davis is a human lie detector. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, but I have been lied to so much. I just need to get this out of the way.”

Melinda extends her arms across the table. Davis reaches out and holds her wrists, even though I know he can do this just by looking at her.

“Are your intentions with Jolie honourable?”

“Yes.”

“Do you plan to go back to Ziyon and tell him about anything you plan to do today?”

“Beyond telling him we had a nice lunch, no.”

“Lastly, do you really have no memory of having children?”

“No.”

Davis lets go of her wrists and turns back to me. “She is telling the truth.”

“Good. Then call Chester and tell him we are on our way. He will know why.”

Davis slips from the seat and walks back over to Marlow. Melinda smiles at me. “I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad I have my memories back. It was weird at first, remembering the things I had forgotten, but I don’t regret it.”

“I’m just afraid that the man I love has been lying to me all these years. If he has, then I will be alone.”

I reach across the table and take her hand in mine and lightly squeeze it. “We can figure it out together. You have me now. And your grandchildren.”

She laughs, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around that.”

The guys both come to stand at our table. “Are you ready to go? Chester is waiting,” Marlow says.

I nod and let Melinda’s hand go, and Davis helps me from my seat.

“After you,” Marlow says, and we all head outside and back to Davis’s car. “We will go to the house in case Melinda is being watched. It won’t look suspicious if it seems like you’re showing her the remodelling. You can go through the front of the house and down to the morgue. Chester will be there waiting for you.”

“The morgue?” Melinda asks, her eyes wide.

“Yes, Creed likes to work from home,” I explain. “He has been teaching me how to do an autopsy. It’s kind of cool.”

“I will take your word for it,” she quips.

I slide into the backseat with Melinda, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable about having to sit next to a strange man. The drive back to the house is quiet, with anxious energy radiating off Melinda in spades.

Once we pull up to the front of the house, Marlow turns and looks back at us. “Go in and be careful. The builders have been sent to have lunch. Just don’t touch anything, and you will be fine. There will be eyes on you at all times.”

I nod, but it makes me nervous that they plan to be watching. It makes me question what they think will happen. Melinda and I exit the car and walk up the stairs. I twist the handle and push the large door open. I haven’t seen the inside of the house for over a week, and I’m surprised at how much it’s changed. Everything is still black, but Creed has added a chandelier to the foyer.

“Wow, this place is huge,” Melinda says in awe. I don’t blame her—she has been underground for years.

“This is nothing. Just when you think you have seen everything, there are more rooms,” I say with a chuckle, glancing around.

“I bet. Did something happen here?” she asks, pointing to the stairs that are roped off.

“No, Creed is having that part of the house renovated for when the babies come so that we can all be in the same wing.”

“Oh, and where is the... morgue?” I don’t miss the shudder that takes over her body as she asks.

“Through this way.”

I lead her out through a hallway, past the living room, and into the hallway that contains the entrance to the morgue. She follows closely behind me, and I push the door open, the cold air hitting me as I do, giving me goose bumps.

Olly jumps down from a bench and twists between my legs. I bend down—around my stomach—to pick him up and cradle him close to my chest. Melinda’s nose scrunches; her reaction is similar to mine when I first met the naked cat.

“That has to be the ugliest cat I have ever seen.”

“You’re not wrong,” Chester says, coming out from the freaking bottom of the dead body fridge. Melinda jumps back in fright. I put Olly back down on the bench, and he curls up in a ball and ignores us.

“Did you really have to come in that way?” I chastise.

He rights himself and smirks at me. “We are taking all precautions in case she is being watched. Ziyon seeing me in the same vicinity as her would make him curious. He knows what I’m trained to do.”

Chester places the small black cases he brought with him down on the metal bench. He opens it and removes the syringe, drawing up the yellow liquid.

“I don’t have any research on this drug besides what happened to Jolie, so you take it at your own risk,” Chester says, not even looking at Melinda. “Do you understand?”

Melinda nods, staring intently at the needle in his hand.

“I said, do you fucking understand?” Chester demands, not happy with her silent agreement.

“Y . . . yes,” she stutters. “I understand.”

“Good. Where do you want it?” he asks, holding the syringe up and squirting a little of the liquid from the tip of the needle.

She turns and pulls her shorts down, revealing an ass cheek. Chester raises a brow at me, and I shrug. “So he doesn’t see a bruise. He might ask questions if he notices.”

“Smart thinking,” I say, and Chester moves closer to stick her with the needle. From where I’m standing, it looks like he jabs her harder than necessary, but she doesn’t even flinch.

“Now what?” she asks, pulling her pants back up into place.

“Now, we wait. Petra made some sandwiches and set them up on the back patio for you. I’m going back to finish the serial killer documentary. Those assholes refused to pause it for me.” I laugh, and Chester pulls me into his body. “Do you think I can kill Davis and take his night?”

I smile against his lips. “No, but maybe you could convince him to let you join us.”

“Nah, he is too soft for my liking. I will just have to be more creative.”

With one last kiss, he slips back through the small door that Creed fixed after Laughn kicked it in, and he disappears.

I take Melinda through the house and out to the back patio. “How come you’re not staying in the other wing?”

“Honestly, I think they are paranoid I might get hurt. Or that a builder might look at me. Something stupid, but I humour them. The bunker isn’t as nice as yours, but it’s still big enough for all of us... just.”

“It must be nice to have all those boys fawning over you.”

“It has its moments,” I admit with a laugh.

“Those boys are obsessed with you,” Petra says, bringing out a plate of sandwiches. Melinda laughs, and Petra goes back inside and comes back with two glasses.

“Orange juice for you,” she says, placing one down in front of me. “A fake mimosa for you.”

“Why fake?” Melinda asks, picking up the wine flute.

“In case you have any side effects from the shot, you can pass it off as being drunk.”

Melinda nods.

“I will keep them coming in fast succession. Are you feeling okay?” Petra inquires.

“At the moment, I feel fine.”

“Good, let us know if anything changes.”

Melinda nods, but I turn to Petra. “They told you?”

“Yes. After those boys came back to life, I was mad. I have been there for them since they were children. I demanded they include me, unless they saw me as just a housekeeper.”

“What did they do?” Melinda asks.

“They sat me down and explained everything. What they don’t realise is I already knew. Annabella and Blake filled me in years ago. I’m family, and they wanted it to be my choice to stick around. I just decided to scare the boys a little.”

I chuckle. Good old Petra can give them a run for their money. I know Brennan is especially fond of her.

We spend the next couple of hours talking and getting to know each other. Melinda doesn’t have the same reaction I had to the injection, and I start to worry that maybe it hasn’t worked for her until she begins feeling nauseous. I text Chester, and he says we shouldn’t worry. But he will send a car to take her home. He had to give her a smaller dose since she isn’t genetically modified like I am, so her reaction may be different than mine, and he’d expected that. Nice of him to tell us—the asshole. He just sends back smiley face emojis.

I suppose only time will tell if the treatment worked.