Chapter 33 - The Final Encounter

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Omar had a bad feeling when his phone alerted him that the security system at the condo had been breached. His stomach churned as he stepped on the gas and sped down the hill. It was hard to ignore the red alert flashing repeatedly on the screen. His woman was in danger and he was unable to protect her. He felt like a fucking failure. He knew Natalya and how her mind worked. She was cunning with a malicious streak. She often acted like she was above the law.

Anything goes. That was her motto. Faster, harder, better. That was her modus vivendi. She lived her life on the edge, always somewhere between high and sober.

He was at the bottom of the hill now, just a few more minutes away from the condo. He switched gear and pushed down harder on the gas. It didn't matter that his truck was hurtling by the usually quiet neighborhood like a scene from Fast and Furious. He trusted the ominous feeling in the pit of his gut urging him to keep going. The closer he got, fear wrapped around his throat, threatening to strangle him.

The last time he'd been this wound up about anything he'd been maybe seven-years-old. He'd just gotten a puppy and his father had accidentally driven over its legs. He remembered the swelling. The keening yaps. He'd been scared shitless then, just as he was now. Not because of Natalya, but for Xiomara and his son. He never knew love could hurt this much. The pain in his chest was violent and hot like the magma inside of a volcano, making him highly dangerous to anyone who dared to mess with his family.

The truck came to a screeching halt in front of the condo. He was out of the vehicle in a matter of seconds, but not before he grabbed his gun from the glove compartment. He palmed the familiar weight of the metal, his fingers curling around the grip for support. He had only used it once, a long time ago, when he was still in training. Not that he was planning on using it now . . . only if he absolutely had to.

He studied the neighborhood with watchful eyes. Everything seemed normal. Peaceful. The rustling of the leaves the only sound he could make out. The alarm had already been deactivated โ€“ by Natalya no less, with an old code that he had been too stupid to erase from the system. He entered as quietly as possible, his gun drawn. The living area was empty, sunlight streaming through the windows across the carpet.

A feeling of uneasiness crept down his spine. The absence of Xiomara's laughter and Esmeralda's easy chatter caused his mind to shift into overdrive, neurons firing as he stalked down the hallway toward the patio. He spotted the disarray at once. It was like a war zone. The table and the chairs were toppled over. Plates, utensils and leftover pancakes lay like pieces of shrapnel on the floor. Even the potted plants from off the ledge had been thrown over, dark soil decorating the tiles.

He swore under his breath when he saw Xiomara's phone among the aftermath of what must have been a fight. There was even a drop of blood on the floor. Rage bubbled beneath the surface and he fought back the urge to roar in anguish. The thought of Xiomara hurt was enough to turn him into a mad man.

The ground floor was clear. Esmeralda wasn't in her room, although she had been really sick that morning. He started up the stairs, his heart beating in his ears. His and Xiomara's bedroom was also unoccupied. That left only the nursery.

"Natalya," he said, "whatever fucking game you're playing I'm not interested."

He pushed the door open and just as he feared, Natalya was sitting crossed leg on the big comfy chair he'd gotten Xiomara to breastfeed his son on. Across her lap she held a tiny jumpsuit in her hands. Her eyes were shrouded with secrets and suppressed excitement.

"Now, that's too bad, baby," she said. "I was really enjoying this one. Especially this part. Seeing you again is exhilarating. And stop pointing that gun at me. We both know you're not going to shoot me."

"Don't be too damn sure about that. It won't be the first time I've wished you dead." He kicked the door shut behind him and moved into a position that would allow him to fire a bullet straight into Natalya's heart if he had to. "Where are they?"

She must have read his mood because she didn't mince her words. "They left. She took the girl and left."

"She would never leave without saying anything to me. We have an understanding."

Natalya was lying. He could tell by the devilish smirk tainting the corners of her lips.

She yawned. "I really don't care about what she would or would not do. She was using you and I'm glad she's gone. You told me to get help. I did that and now I'm back."

"Like you never took advantage of me," he snapped.

"I, look . . . I'm back now, baby. Better than ever. I'm not that girl anymore. I got help. Just like you told me to do."

"Back? Are you out of your fucking mind? You know what? I don't have time for this."

He tucked his gun away and strode across the room, pushing himself into her personal space. She had no choice but to ease back a little so that she could look up at him. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, the progressive glimmer of arousal slinking in her light brown eyes. He had a strong urge to shake her up, but instead he wrapped his hand around her slender throat and squeezed firmly. It would be so easy to snap her neck in two. Her eyes grew large, but not with fear.

"It's just like old times, isn't it?" she asked, her tone seductive. "Don't you miss the rush, the savage need to devour one another? I know I do." Her voice sounded different to him. The pitch was higher and there was a childish lilt to it that grated on his nerves.

"That bleach sure did a number on your voice cords. You sound really fucked up."

Natalya gasped. "I did that for you. I didn't know how else to show you how sorry I was for hurting you. In more ways than one. I used your biggest strength against you and it backfired. I remember how protective you were of me. Even a stubbed toe was enough to get you to pay attention to me. Why do you think I was always injured one way or another? The time I lied and told you that a stranger at a bar slapped me or the time I bawled my eyes out for the family parrot who'd died? We didn't even have a parrot. So yeah, I slit my wrist and drank bleach. I knew you would want to protect me and take care of me, but I was wrong. You hated me. I just need you to forgive me. I love you, Omar."

He sighed and let go of her neck, his fingers bunching into a fist at his side. "What about the drinking and the drugs?"

"The first time I got really drunk was the day I got the official notice that I'd been disbarred. You came home and took one look at me and it was as if you understood, although I hadn't even told you what had happened yet. I remember you carrying me up the stairs and lowering me into the bath. You scrubbed me clean and washed my hair. Do you remember that?"

Omar looked her in the eye, but he didn't see her. Her walk down memory lane had only managed to take him back to a more recent memory involving another woman. Xiomara. Her saw her beautiful face, filled with awe as she walked into his condo for the first time. Even with her shirt plastered to her body and hair drenched from the rain, she had taken his breath away. There was no resisting her even when she told him that she wouldn't move in with him. He had made love to her against the bathroom tiles that night, burying his body deep inside of her, deep inside her heart where she would have a hard time taking him out.

He'd wanted her to feel the need and the dark desire burning inside of him for her. He'd known from the moment he laid eyes on her that he was in trouble. And then she got pregnant, causing his feelings for her to shift from uncontainable lust to something more meaningful. The pregnancy had forced him to slow things down so that he could focus on her on a whole. He wanted her to be happy, because more often than not her eyes held a deep sorrow like she never really took the time to enjoy life.

That night in the bathtub, even if for a short moment, she'd let her guards down. With her head back on his shoulders and her full breasts floating right beneath the water, dark nipples teasing him, while he circled her clit with his fingers, she'd told him that she wanted him. He knew then with certainty that he wanted her too, but somewhere between then and now she'd become his entire world. He couldn't imagine living the rest of his life without her.

"Omar, don't you remember?"

"No," he said gruffly. "I only remember cleaning up your vomit from off the floor. Not just that one time, but several times after that. I remember the fights. The yelling and shouting. I remember the time you were so high, you took off all your clothes and ran down the street naked. That's what I remember. When I told you to get help, I meant for yourself โ€“ not for me."

Natalya reached forward and grabbed his shirt. "Omar, please. What we had wasn't all bad. Why can't you just remember the good things? The love, the fun things we did . . . the incredible sex."

He slapped her hand away, anger riding him hard. "Love? What do you know about love? You say you love me, but you walk into my home and threaten my family." He snatched his son's jumpsuit from off her lap. "Threaten my son's life. He's a part of me, whether you like or not. Natalya, I swear, if you don't tell me what you did to them I will personally strangle you to death."

"You're in love with her." The words came out like an accusation.

"Yes, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. You and I, we're not a good match. I need you to let me go. Put a stop to this foolishness. You're a smart woman; it doesn't suit you."

"I wanted to have your baby." Her voice was soft and he heard the sincerity in it.

"I know, but a baby wouldn't have changed anything. Your parents stayed together because of you . . . and they're miserable. So you know first hand that a baby isn't the answer to relationship problems."

"I'm a horrible person, Omar." Tears sprang up in her eyes. "You deserve so much more than me. You're a good man, always was. Again, I'm terribly sorry for what I did." She swallowed dramatically. "I put your woman and her sister in a canoe. If you want to find them alive, you'll have to hurry. The sea's rough and plus her water broke, upping her chances for an infection."

Omar couldn't believe what he was hearing. His vision blurred, going a misty white. Blood thundered in his ears, his body taut, muscles coiling. He needed to keep it together. One second he was standing in front of Natalya, crocodile tears running down her face, and the next he had her by her hair and was dragging her out of his son's nursery room. Kicking and screaming.

"You're hurting me," she sobbed. "My scalp is sensitive."

"You didn't think of that when you came here with the intention of hurting my family. This is nothing compared to what I really want to do to you."

He was halfway down the stairs when his security team barged into the condo. It was like a scene from a movie. Somewhere in the chaos swirling in his mind he recognized Damien among three other men who had their guns drawn and pointed toward Natalya. Relief swept through him. He trusted Damien as a bodyguard; he was one of Omar's best men. His background in martial arts was impeccable.

"You can let her go now, boss," Damien said. "We have the situation under control. We saw what she did on the cameras. The cops are on their way."

Omar blinked. He still had Natalya by the hair. Scratch marks marred his hand where she'd tried to escape his death grip. He didn't want to imagine what he would have done to her if the men hadn't walked in when they did. He was afraid of exploring that darker side of him, the side that wanted to kill Natalya for endangering his family. Reluctantly, he let go of Natalya's unkept hair.

She sagged to the floor at his feet and wrapped her thin arms around his leg. "Omar, please. I didn't mean to hurt them. I wanted to stop her from breaking your heart. And she will. You know she will."

"Shut the fuck up, Natalya. Your voice is irritating."

He didn't need her to remind him that Xiomara had the power to break him, to shred him into pieces. Part of being in love was opening up himself and letting that other person in, all the way in. He'd done that knowing what the risks were and he wouldn't change a damn thing about it. Xiomara was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He wanted more kids and he wanted them with her. He would find her and bring her back home where she belonged.

Omar shook Natalya off his leg like the clinging puppy she was. "Get her out of here, and make sure they give her a psych evaluation. There's something seriously wrong with her head."

Damien dragged Natalya away as she wailed and kicked, spitting her disdain and damning them all to hell.

"Mika," Omar said to the man standing closest to him, "You were a trained pilot in the army, am I right."

"Yes, sir. I did two years of pilot school and four years in the Dutch Army."

Omar nodded his approval and told Mika about the canoe with Xiomara and Esmeralda onboard. While Mika was busy devising a rescue plan, Omar called Willem and told him what happened before inquiring about using his helicopter. Willem offered to help, but he told him that there was nothing he could do until the women were found and that he would keep him posted.

On the drive to the helicopter he called Dr. Plachakova who was just about to go into surgery. "You told me you would personally deliver our baby," he told her. "She's a high risk patient now, and I don't trust anyone else. You're all I've got, Doc. So do what you have to do. I will not lose her nor my son."

It wasn't long before the helicopter lifted off the grass field with Mika in the pilot seat and Omar and Damien in the back as rescue operators. The search was rigorous and tiring. The Atlantic Ocean loomed beneath them, vast and unforgiving. Waves swelled and frothed powerfully. The sun beamed down on the water, making it sparkle. They'd been at it for at least two hours and still there were no signs of the canoe or the women. With every passing minute Omar's heart skipped a beat, his blood going cold, only to warm up again with the next thud of his heart pounding, determined to find them alive and well.

"Come on, baby," he whispered. "Give us a sign. You're a strong woman and I know you'd do everything within your power to keep our baby alive, to keep Esme alive. Just give me a sign so I can find you. I love you."

"We're going to broaden the search area," Mika said into the microphone of his aviation headset. "The police just launched two drones to help us with the search. Don't worry, boss. We'll find them."

Omar wasn't so certain anymore. He tried to stay positive, but every second that went by only diminished the chances of them being found alive. He let out an exasperated breath and ran his hand over his face. Right then he glanced outside and spotted a small dot on the water a good distance away. His nerves were wired tight and it felt like somebody had taken a hammer to his head.

"Head east," he said. "I think I saw something there."

The helicopter veered toward the dot. The dot wavered and turned into a wooden canoe. In the center of the canoe a woman waved. At her feet a girl was slumped forward, unmoving. Omar's heart stopped. Xiomara waved again, her enthusiasm rocking the tiny boat to the point of destabilization. The girl moved, lifting her head toward the loud bird in the sky. Love poured into Omar's body, like gasoline on fire, pulsing through his veins, awakening every cell in his body. His girls were okay.

"It's them," he said, his voice thick with unshed tears and an overwhelming dose of emotions.

"That's right, boss," Mika answered. "There's a fishing boat not too far out. We can radio them and asked them to get the women to safety."

"I need to get down there," Omar said. He was up and out of his seat. "She needs me."

"That wasn't the plan. This helicopter isn't exactly equipped for rescuing. It's too dangerous. We either wait on the Coast Guard rescue helicopter or we radio the fishing boat. So I'm going to kindly ask you to sit back down."

"Mika's right," Damien said, speaking up for the first time.

"Fuck, I can't just sit here and do nothing." Omar ran his hand over his low cropped hair in agitation. "Which is faster?"

Mika corresponded on his radio before replying. "The coast guard helicopter is just a few minutes out and they are allowed to land at the hospital. They're our best bet." Mika hovered away from the canoe with the chopper, keeping the women in direct sight at all times.

Omar sighed. Xiomara looked like she'd lost weight, her belly carrying her instead of the other way around. He watched her as she sank back down into the canoe and pulled her sister near to her body. God. He loved that woman. She had a spine of steel and a heart of gold.

As promised, the Coast Guard helicopter arrived, forcing Mika to move even farther away from the canoe. Time stopped. It felt like forever before the first rescue swimmer was lowered into the water on a tethered line. The strong downdraft from the helicopter caused the waters to boil, a fine mist rising up, blocking out most of Omar's view.

An eon later the waters calmed and the helicopter took off with its two rescued protรฉgรฉes huddled inside. Omar muttered a silent prayer, and for the first time in years, he let the tears fall.

*****

Guess who's back? I had my last exam two days ago and I think it went rather well. I just wanted to thank you guys for your patience. Y'all are like the best readers ever! I've read your comments and seen your votes coming in. Thanks so much and keep it up. Do you think we can get the book to a thousand votes with this chapter? Right now it's on 937. Or is that too much to ask? ๐Ÿ˜˜

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