“Sweetheart,” Nixon said calmly. “This is a completely normal reaction to—”
She threw a shoe at his head then started pacing.
Nixon, poor man, went a shade paler. Aw hell, looked like I’d have to step up after all, or at least offer to keep the guy from fainting like a girl.
“Nixon.” I shook my head at him and made my way over to Trace. I’d never finished medical school but I was pretty confident I could deliver her baby if the ambulance didn’t make it on time.
“I feel like I need to push. I feel…” Trace’s exhaled. “Pressure, so much pressure, and if I hold back it hurts.” Tears streamed down her face.
I looked to Nixon for a decision.
After all, he was about to be a father.
And for the first time in my life, I saw fear in my cousins eyes.
Because he would kill for this woman, over and over again; he would protect her with his life, and now it was my turn to protect her for him.
“Trace, I’m going to examine you okay?”
Nixon clenched his fists, but he didn’t move.
Val swiftly walked into the room and began pulling the comforter back and getting it ready for Trace, while Nixon stood frozen in place.
Once Val was finished, she went over to Nixon and grabbed his hand. “She’s going to do great.”
Nixon squeezed back and stood, paralyzed as Trace lay down on the bed. “Trace.” I cleared my throat. “I’m going to—”
“Ahhh!” She punched the bed. “Just do it already!”
It felt weird, checking my cousin’s wife to see how dilated she was. What was even weirder, seeing a baby’s head. “Oh, shit.”
“Oh, shit?” Nixon yelled. “That’s what you say?”
“Head.” I took a deep breath. “There’s a head.”
“A baby’s head?” Nixon gasped for air, then pounded his chest.
“No. A grasshopper.” I glared. “Yes, you asshole, your daughter’s head. Okay Trace, on this next contraction I need you to push.” I eyed Val. “Get some towels.”
The sound of the ambulance became her symphony as Trace pushed twice and then rested.
“Good work.” I was touching a head. Holy shit. I was the calm one. Thus the whole medical school track, every mafia family needed one, I just quit before I could actually become one; that’s what I reminded myself as I asked her to push again.
Soon EMT’s were waltzing into the house. I could hear their muffled voices then the stomping of feet on the stairs.
“One last push, Trace,” I encouraged.
“So tired.” She sighed. “It hurts.”
“Sweetheart.” Nixon finally moved from his spot on the carpet and ran over to her, kissing her forehead. “You can do this.”
“I can.” She grabbed his hands and pushed.
“Almost there!” I said, injecting calm confidence into my voice. “Come on, Trace.”
With a scream, she pushed one last time, and a baby’s wail pierced the tension in the room. I held the little girl in my arms, shocked to the core as paramedics finally made it into the room and went to Trace’s side.
“She’s beautiful.” Val’s eyes shone with tears as she wrapped an arm around me.
“She’s so small,” I whispered, picking up a towel and wrapping the tiny infant. “So defenseless. Innocent.”
“She’s perfect.” Val kissed my forehead. “And so were you.”
One of the paramedics applied a plastic clamp to the cord and snipped it.
I stood and walked over to Nixon and Trace, carrying the child like she might break. With shaking hands Nixon took his little girl and gaped, tears streamed down his face.
It was one of the only times I’d ever seen him cry.
“My God, she’s beautiful like her mama,” he whispered reverently. “Thank you.” He brought her to Trace and kissed every inch of her face over and over again. “Thank you so much.”
Val and I quietly excused ourselves. She followed me to the bathroom and shut the door behind her as I washed my hands.
“What.” I smirked as I grabbed the towel. “You’re awful quiet.”
Arms wrapped around me, and then a mouth was sucking down my neck from behind. “You would have been a sexy doctor.”
“You’re really making me re-think medical school right now.” I groaned as she stepped in front of me and her hands moved to my pants and started undoing them.
Giggling she pulled my shirt over my head and kissed me harder.
“Have I told you how much I love you?” I whispered between kisses, “Because I do. A little more, every day.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Val.”
“I love you too, Doctor…”
I rolled my eyes just as a loud knocking sounded on the door. “You better not be taking advantage of my sister!”
“Go away, Dante!” Val yelled. “Don’t you have school today?”
“Don’t call it that!” he fired back. “It’s college, not school!”
“School is school!”
“I’m not going… not with her in the car.”
Val froze, her face falling as I took a step back and took over the conversation. “You will get your sorry ass in the car with her.”
“She’s a whore.”
“That’s it.” I pushed Val aside and opened the door to face Dante. “You are a serious pain in my ass.”I threw on my shirt and buttoned my pants then faced the guy who I was seriously itching to punch in the face.
“You married my sister, doesn’t make you my father, makes you my brother-in-law, so if we’re done here…”
He tried walking away, so I grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the wall.
But it was Dante.
He wore his anger like a badge of honor. It didn’t help that he’d been fighting again. I could see it in his eyes; they gleamed with the need to punch something.
And for being only twenty years old, he had more muscle on him than sense, which made my job that much harder since we were equally matched. Though his immaturity made me want to pull a gun on him and use his body as target practice.
“It’s fine,” Ella said in a quiet voice. “Really, I can go by myself.”
Her face was flushed red.
Frank had brought her home after his dealings with Xavier. Though she had been married to Xavier by force after he’d murdered her parents, it still made Dante feel like she was our enemy. That was made worse by the fact that she refused to come under our protection unless she was allowed to bring both of Xavier’s bastard kids.
They were easier to deal with than Dante.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, why don’t both of you just stay home?”
“Home,” Dante snorted. “I’m sorry, I don’t have one of those.” With that, he shoved past me, ran down the stairs, and slammed the front door.
“Give him time.” Ella always went to Dante’s defense even though he treated her like shit. “He’s just angry.”
Val watched everything in silence.
“Sorry.” I pulled her in for a hug.
“It’s his fault, not yours.”
“It feels like it’s mine.”
She sighed. “What are we going to do with him?”
“Well I’m sure as hell not going to keep training him with weapons. Last time he nearly took my head off — and was upset he missed.”
“I don’t know why he’s acting like this.”
I didn’t say anything.
Because it wasn’t my place.
Nor was it my story to tell.
No. That was another story entirely.
About carrying the weight of a legacy you never asked for, never wanted, and don’t feel like you deserve, only to discover that you’re alone in the world.
I knew his anger. His hate. His resistance.
I just didn’t know how to break through to him — and was afraid that by the time I figured it out — I’d be speaking them t
o a corpse as they lowered his lifeless body into the ground.
“Hey!” Val elbowed me. “Think we can go back into the room? I want to hold the baby.”
“Yup.” I steered her away from Ella and the drama of Dante and followed her into the room. She made a beeline toward the baby and everything felt right in my world again.
Because soon, that would be us.
A family.
Want to read Enrage, Dante’s story?
Be looking for it Summer 2017!
Eagle Elite Book 8
Enrage: To anger, incense, infuriate, madden—to make very angry, ie; the man was enraged at his family for taking everything—and offering nothing but death. He lived his rage, he fed his rage, and in the end, the man fell in love with the rage, because that is what’s done when you feed the beast.
It grows.
PROLOGUE
Dante
THE FAMILIAR SMELL of blood invaded my nostrils as it ran down my wrists, its hot wetness fueling the anger inside.
“Again.” Nixon screamed, his face flashed with fury as blood caked his face. “Do it again.”
So I did.
And again.
And again.
And again.
“Finish him.” A cold voice whispered.
“Give me one good reason why I should.” I didn’t recognize my own voice, it may as well have been a stranger talking for me.
“I’ll give you the only reason.” A gun was held in front of my face — pointed directly at her. “Now finish him.”
RACHEL VAN DYKEN is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
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You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com.
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