Page 30 of Single Mom’s Undoing (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems #1)

CLARA

M atty is unusually fussy today.

He’s been like this from the moment he woke up this morning. Even strawberry Pop- Tarts won’t appease him, and I’m doing everything I can to avoid another episode before we get to the hospital.

“Come on, honey,” I goad him as I pack his go bag. “Just finish your juice, at least. It’s grape, your favorite.”

“I don’t wanna! Where’s Daddy?” he cries out.

My eyes sting as I force myself to smile, then turn to look at him, uncomfortable and squirming in his high chair.

“We’ll see him again soon; I promise.”

I keep telling myself that I’m doing the right thing, even though everything I’ve done so far points in the opposite direction.

“I want Daddy. I miss Daddy. ”

“Oh, honey, I miss him, too. But we need to get you to the doctor today. We’re finally going to fix your heart, remember?”

Matty is too little to fully understand what that entails, but he does understand that what is about to happen is important. It’s what makes him crave Carter’s presence even more. They’ve only just met, and they’ve been separated again.

“Momma, I don’t wanna go.”

Once his bag is packed, I turn the TV off and help Matty out of his chair. It’s quite the mission to get him to put his shoes on, but with a bit more pleading, we manage.

“I promise I will call your dad when we’re at the hospital,” I say to Matty. “Will that make you feel better?”

Finally, he looks at me. “Yes.”

“Okay, good. We need to go, sweetheart. We need to get in the car and drive up to the hospital. The nice doctors are already waiting for us, and we don’t want to be late.”

“Don’t want to be late,” he mumbles, repeating after me as I gently wipe his tears and take him in my arms.

I struggle to carry my purse and his go bag in my right hand while I hold him with my left, his legs cinched around my waist. He’s grown a lot over the past few months, and I reckon he’ll be as tall as Carter when he grows up. When. That’s the key word. When he grows up, not if.

“If” is no longer an issue, because we can afford the surgery now.

When it’s all done and dusted, I’ll be at peace, and my son will have a shot at a long and healthy life. That’s all that matters. It’s all I can focus on .

As we come out of the motel room, I barely notice the couple walking toward us. In my mind, I’ve already categorized them as fellow hotel residents. Maybe they’re passing through town or meeting here for a feverish affair. Whatever their reason, I don’t even glance their way until they’re close.

Too close, I quickly realize as I set the bags down and fumble with the motel room key.

“Hey there, are you okay?” the man asks with a pleasant smile.

“Morning. Yes, thanks. Just juggling a few things at once,” I chuckle as my heart skips a few uneasy beats.

The woman looks at me, her face emotionless. Her blonde hair is frizzy and hastily chopped. She’s wearing no makeup, just a tee and some jeans that don’t do much to flatter her bony figure. She’s holding a small syringe.

“What’s that?” I ask with a gasp.

“Don’t worry, it’s a mild sedative, it’s virtually harmless,” she replies casually.

A split second later, she jabs me in the arm with it. Matty starts to cry as he yells, “Momma!”

“Get the kid,” the man says.

The woman scoops Matty from my limp arms. My whole body relaxes too much and too fast. My knees give out.

“No…” I manage as the man rushes to catch me. “I’m pregnant. What did you do?”

“Relax, lady, it’s safe. We just need you to be a good girl,” he grunts as he holds me up, then throws me over his shoulder, like I’m nothing more than a sack of potatoes .

“Let me go! Momma!” Matty cries out and struggles against the woman’s hold, but she keeps him firmly close to her with one arm, grabbing my bags from the ground as she follows the man downstairs.

Slowly but surely, I’m losing my ability to speak.

“It’s okay, Matty,” I mumble, my tongue going numb.

I look around, hoping that someone might see or hear us. But it’s so early in the morning, there are only a few cars in the parking lot. One of them is mine, another has been abandoned for quite a while, judging by the state of its tires, and the third one belongs to my abductors.

“Momma!”

“Keep quiet or I’ll hurt her,” the man snaps.

Instantly, Matty shuts up, his eyes wide with fear as he looks at me.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, hopeful that I’m actually able to muster a reassuring smile and not just imagining it. “It’s…okay…”

I’m thrown in the back seat, my body soft as a boiled noodle, and unable to move, while the woman keeps Matty in her lap in the passenger seat. The man gets behind the wheel after dumping the bags next to my head.

“He’s got his inhaler in there, right?” the woman asks me. “In his bag?”

I manage to nod once.

“Good. He’s gonna need it if he throws a hissy fit.”

“She’s pregnant. You heard her, right?” the man asks his partner as he turns the key in the ignition .

The woman shushes and comforts my crying son. Matty rests his head on her shoulder so he can look at me, so he can always have me in his line of sight.

“Yeah, I heard her,” she mutters.

“You’d better pray that sedative is safe for the baby, or else?—”

“Relax, Wyatt. I know what I’m doing. They’re both to be safely delivered. I wouldn’t have risked using something stronger in case she had an adverse reaction, anyway. She’ll be fine.”

My blood runs hot and cold at the same time as I realize what we’re dealing with. They came for us. They tracked us down. They found us at the motel and waited for the right moment to jump me. This was calculated and deliberate.

“Momma,” Matty calls out.

“Your momma’s fine, Matthew. She’s just going to fall asleep soon. She’ll be taking a nap while we drive,” the man says as he pulls out of the parking lot, nervously looking around to make sure nobody spots us.

They came prepared, and they know our names.

“Momma…”

I wish I could tell my sweet boy that everything is going to be alright.

At least I have a sliver of comfort in knowing that they’re aware of his episodes, that they can help him with the inhaler given my current condition.

But there is rage brewing quietly inside of me, the kind of homicidal rage that will drive a mother to do horrendous things in order to protect her child.

Right now, however, I can’t move.

Eventually, I black out.

As much as I try to stay awake, the sedative works its way through my body and puts me into a deep sleep. For what feels like forever, I float in utter darkness. No sound. No hint of the world even existing until I draw a deep breath.

My eyes peel open.

Matty’s voice gives me comfort. He’s here with me, though I’m not sure where “here” actually is. “Momma, you’re okay.”

“Yes, I’m okay,” I say, if only to reassure him.

He’s the first to come into my field of vision before I have a chance to look around, to get a sense of where we are. I’m comfortably seated in a wing-back chair, the mustard-yellow velour tickling my fingertips. Matty sits on my lap, huddled against me, his fingers combing through my hair.

“You’re both okay,” a familiar yet unsettling voice cuts through the haze.

Bill Lockwood stands before us clad in a grey suit, holding up a double scotch in a crystal tumbler, the ice cubes jingling with every swirl. He looks comfortable, quite pleased with himself.

Glancing around for the first time, I realize we’re in some sort of salon or living room, with plenty of mustard-colored seating, a massive coffee table with a glass top, cabinets and shelves covering most of the walls, and two giant windows that flood the space with plenty of golden light.

It’s upscale. Rich. Imposing.

“Where am I?” I ask, slowly recovering control of my body .

My toes and fingertips tingle as the last remnants of the sedative wear off. I wrap my arms around Matty and keep him close, if only to further anchor myself to reality.

“You’re on one of my properties,” Bill says. “You are safe.”

“That’s a load of crap,” I scoff. “You kidnapped us!”

“I needed to talk to you, Clara. And I knew you wouldn’t come willingly.”

“Why would I, after everything you did?”

“Momma, who is he?” Matty asks, looking understandably worried and scared. He may be only four years old, but my boy is smart enough to recognize unpleasant people a mile away, it seems. “Where’s Daddy?”

Bill smiles softly and takes a seat on the sofa across from us.

“Laura!” he calls out. A few seconds later, the woman who abducted us comes in, and my muscles tighten at the sight of her.

“Relax, Clara. Laura is only here to help,” he says, then gives the woman a slight nod.

“Take Matty to the kitchen. I asked the chef to put together a lovely PB I promise,” Bill insists.

The more I fight him, the harder it will be for us to get out of here. The more I resist, the less inclined he and his people will be to trust me. If I play the role of a compliant woman, it’ll give Matty and me a better chance.