I’m so consumed watching the waves, I don’t notice anyone around until he’s sitting behind me, pulling me into his arms. Neither of us says anything for the longest time.
“You’re a hard woman to find when you don’t want to be found. Never expected to find you in fuckin’ Australia,” Tracker finally whispers.
“If I’m so hard to find, then how did you find me?” I murmur, not taking my eyes off the water.
“You used my last name to rent your place, Princess,” he says gruffly. “As pissed as I want to be with you right now, I can’t be. I’m just fuckin’ grateful as hell to have finally found you.” The feel of his lips against my shoulder sends a shiver down my spine.
“Why bother with me? It’s not like you don’t have enough women around you constantly to keep you company,” I say on the verge of tears. I don’t think I’ve ever been this emotional, not even with the way my parents treated me.
Tracker remains silent for a long moment before he moves from behind me to lay across the towel and draw me down into his arms so we’re facing each other. “Due to you being missing, I’ve had a lot of time over the last month to think. And I want to first apologize to you, sweetheart. I’m sorry for treating you the way I did. I acted like a complete fuckin’ ass toward you by allowing those bitches to touch me and lettin’ them kiss me,” he murmurs. With both of us wearing sunglasses, I can’t see his eyes, but I know he’s being genuine.
As I go to speak, Tracker places a finger over my lips. “Let me finish, Victoria,” he says.
Nodding, I wait for him to begin again.
“When I first realized you left, I was so fuckin’ pissed, but at the same time, I was worried that Parker would find you.” I gasp at the mention of Parker's name. How does he know about him? “Yeah, Princess, I know about him and we can get back to that later. But back to what I was saying. After the first week of searching for you, panic started setting in, but I refused to give up. I don’t think I’ve slept. The last place I was able to track you to was New Mexico. If not for going through your shit, I would never have found you.
“What I’m trying to get at, Princess, is after this past month, I never want to feel that again. I want to prove to you that you’re the only one I want. And I know you probably won’t believe me, but I haven’t fucked anyone since you. As for the other shit, that was me being a dumb fuck,” he says, his fingers stroking my bottom lip.
How am I supposed to respond to his confessions? I want nothing more than to forgive him, but at the same time, I want to hate him.
Don’t give in.
Don’t give up on him. He’s apologizing.
Think of the baby you're carrying.
Remember, he said he owns you, nothing more.
I swear, it feels like my head and heart are going to war over what I should do. Inwardly shaking my head, I take a deep breath inhaling the wonderful scent of his cologne. Damn, I’ve missed the earthy smell.
“I don’t want to be someone’s possession. Nor do I want to be owned by anyone. I want to be seen as me for once in my life. Thank you for apologizing and though I know it is sincere I don’t know if I can be with you,” I murmur as tears slide down my cheeks.
“Princess, if you give me a chance, I’ll prove it to you and I won’t let you down,” Tracker whispers.
“I don’t even know your first name. Shoot, the only reason I knew your last name was Wilson is because I saw it on one of those cards for residents of the house that came in the mail. I figured it was yours considering the house is yours,” I ramble.
“James, sweetheart. My name is James Christopher Wilson and I’d like for us to start over,” he says smoothly as he cups my cheek.
“I don’t know if we can start over,” I murmur as I lean further into his palm.
“Why can’t we, Princess?” he asks.
“Because I’m pregnant,” I say quietly.
Chapter Ten
Tracker
“Pregnant?” I ask to make sure I heard Victoria right.
Seeing her nod, my heart soars knowing the baby is mine. But doubts about Victoria quickly begin to set in. When did she find out? Did she know before she left? Is that why?
Fuck, question after question races through my head. I can’t keep up.
I’ve spent the last month ready to pull my hair out trying to find this woman. How Victoria was able to slip away and stay hidden yet in plain sight for this long is beyond me. If not for that damn doodling with our names in it, I wouldn’t have thought to try searching for her using my last name. Not only did she use my last name for the house, but from what Nerd found while looking into her funds, the brilliant woman transferred all her money into another bank using my last name on that as well.
All this while withdrawing a good fifty thousand dollars at the same time. Smart yet dumb on her part. Due to the movement of the money, I’m sure Victoria’s parents, as well as Parker, were alerted. I’d bet money that with Parker's reputation, he’d have his men out in force trying to find her. Shit, I wouldn’t put it past them to put a hit out for her dead or alive.
Now she’s pregnant and it’s my job to protect not just her but our child. Visions of her carrying my child fill my head. All my doubts start to dissipate, at least for the moment. I don’t want to think any more negative shit between us.
Not when all I want is to have her underneath me, screaming my name.
“A-are y-you o-okay w-with t-this?” she stammers.
“Fuck yeah, Princess,” I murmur, wrapping my arm around her waist and lean in to claim her lips but instead end up kissing Victoria’s cheek. “Babe?”
“Please don’t call me princess or babe,” she says.
“What’s wrong with . . .” I trail off as it dawns on me why. I call every woman babe besides my cousin and I’ve called her princess since the beginning, when I was nothing but a dick to her. “I will try not to call you those, Vi, but I can’t promise that I won’t,” I say, gently lifting my hand from around her waist to cup her cheek.
“Okay,” she nods as she glances down then back up. I know she was just checking me out by the way she’s nibbling her lip.
“Like what you see,” I grin.
“I’ve never seen you in shorts before,” she says.
“That’s because I never wear them, but it’s fuckin’ hot here,” I chuckle.
“And it’s not at home?” she questions.
“Different kind of heat, baby,” I clarify.
“Umm hmm, well, I do have to say you look good in shorts with your shirt open. Tell me you didn’t come from the airport like this,” she murmurs.
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Naw, I changed in your place before I came down here,” I say.
“How did you get inside? You don’t . . .” she stops speaking as she takes in my grin. “I don’t even want to know. I can only guess how you got in.”
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, changing the subject as I move my hand down her body to palm her stomach where our child rested.