(33) The Backup Plan.

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Pamela woke suddenly with a start and glanced around the room, half expecting to find Devlin there, but so much for her expectations, he wasn't there. She pushed herself up and rose to a sitting position, rubbing her eyes.

Bright sunlight was shining in through the window blinds and with a pang, she realized that Devlin would be in the duel at the moment. What if he was killed? She had done all she could to stop him but the sly son of a gun had drugged her.

"What a prick." She muttered, annoyed.

She wasn't going to waste a tear on him anymore. She had cried enough and if Devlin had cared one bit about her, he would've stayed with her. But she couldn't stop him from battling his demons. When she met him, he was violent and vengeful, did she expect him to change now they were married?

All she ever asked for was to be normal. To have a normal family, normal life, and a normal marriage.

Was it happening all over again? What happened to her parent's marriage, was it happening to hers

Given that her dad had been a covert drug dealer, he would have been in danger so many times. How had her mom dealt with the dread of apprehension that she may never see him again? How had her dad lived with always watching his every move and step so as not to be caught by the authorities, or the fear of being wary of every friend and acquaintance so as not to be stabbed in the back? How had he lived with carrying arms and bodyguards everywhere he went so as not to be hit by a flying bullet?

That's right, that happened to her dad. And history could repeat itself, as history had a way of rearing its ugly head.

She stood briskly from the bed and went to where their traveling bags had been kept and she ransacked hers for a pair of jeans and a blouse. She tugged it on, her thoughts swirling in her mind. She wasn't going to start crying for the same bastard that had drugged her and dumped her, instead, she would put the energy she would waste on her lachrymal gland to good use by using it to save him.

She couldn't just sit and do nothing. She could make some calls, cry for help, or something. Call the cops, maybe. She had to do something. She looked sideways at the wall clock and her heart made a painful lurch when the shorthand of the clock was at 2 and the long hand was between 5 and 6. She sat slowly, momentarily weakened and discouraged. It was past 2 already; Devlin would surely have been killed by now. Maybe that was why there was a led block in her jejunum that was slowly making its way to her ileum. Maybe that was why her heart was beating so fast that it almost hurt. Maybe – maybe that was why she was having shortness of breath.

She tried to imagine living without him and she realized that her life would have no meaning without Devlin. Her life, without him, would be as useless as the fifth wheel was to a coach. She would be empty and hollow, she would be devoid of love and happiness. She buried her face in her palm, trying to swallow the painful knot that formed in her throat.

Her phone rang and she jerked up. She whipped her head to the side, trying to locate the phone through its ringing sounds. She stood and went to her travel bag and dipped her hand into the side zip, the phone was there, its screen showing off the caller ID – Peter.

Her stomach lurched painfully and goose bumps popped out on her arms, but she forced herself to stay calm. Peter calling her did not mean something bad had happened; it could be that he wanted to check up on her. It could also be that they had won Bull and were coming home with their trophy, preferably Bull's head. Peter's call had a million and one reason so there was no reason she should be bothered. Right?

She clicked the green icon and put the phone against her ear. "Hello?"

"Pamela, hey. Did you hear what happened?"

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