Torn in Half: A Trident Security Novella: Book 8.5

by Samantha A. Cole

  “In terms you can relate to? Right now, it feels like my nipples were moved to my lower back and you just took off a set of clamps.” He chuckled at her analogy. “Trust me, I’ll let you know when the urge to castrate you hits. And I’m warning you now, do not even think of tallying up my curse words for future punishments or money for the swear jar, because I have a feeling I’m in for pain like I’ve never felt before.”

  “I wish I could take the pain from you, Angel. Don’t worry about cursing—hell, you can curse me if you need to—you get a free pass for the next few days. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She paused. “Is your mom awake? Is she up to talking? I’d like to say hi before the next contraction.”

  “Yeah, she just sat down next to me. Hang on.” Removing the headphones, he gave them to his mother and turned the laptop so she could see Angie. “Talk normal—she’ll hear you.”

  Once she had the headphones on, Marie waved at the laptop’s camera. “Hi, sweetie. How are you? I’m so sorry Ian’s not there, but thanks to technology, it’s almost like he’s there.”

  He put his arm around his mother as the two women chatted for a moment. Having lost her own parents in her early twenties, Angie had developed a close bond with Chuck and Marie over the past few years, and they often talked on the phone. On more than one occasion, Angie had mentioned she’d gotten lucky in the in-law department and loved when his parents visited.

  His mother tapped his leg. “Tell Nick, Jake, Devon, and your dad to come here a minute, please. Chuck and I have something we want to tell all of you.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed, but he did as he was told. Once the four men joined them, Marie looked back at the screen. She still had the headphones on. “We were going to announce this when we got home but might as well do it now. Dad and I are going to be semi-retiring over the next few months.” Ian’s eyebrows weren’t the only ones to shoot upward. “We’ve been talking about this for a year or so now and think it’s time. Chuck has a good executive board in place, and I’ll be continuing with my charity work only. I’ve already advised my partners that I’ll be leaving the practice. And . . . we’ll be moving to Tampa or Clearwater by the end of the year. Our whole family is in Florida, and, at our age, that’s where we want to be—with our family. If that’s okay with all of you, of course.”

  “Of course!” The sentiment was unanimous among her sons and son-in-law, and, as far as Ian could tell, Angie had agreed as well.

  Ian reached out and shook his father’s hand. “It’s about damn time, Dad. When are you getting the fishing boat you’ve been talking about forever?”

  A wink preceded Chuck’s response. “It’s already in the works. And I already have one of my top agents looking for an apartment or townhouse for us. We don’t need a huge house anymore.”

  “Whoops,” Marie declared, taking off the headphones. “Hang on, sweetie. I’m giving you back to Ian so you can curse the day he was born to him.”

  “What do you mean the labor stalled?” Angie asked Monique at the same time Ian did via Skype. She’d been having contractions every thirteen or fourteen minutes for several hours, but now they were coming about twenty-five minutes apart and not as strong. The nurse had contacted her obstetrician, and she’d come to the hospital immediately. “What—is that bad for the baby?”

  “No, it’s not. Here, let me take that from you for a minute.” Monique gently pulled the iPad from Angie’s shaky grasp and sat with one hip on the bed next to her, turning the device so Ian could see both of them. “A stalled labor is not uncommon, and there’s nothing to worry about. I believe the reason your contractions have slowed down is due to emotional stress, so I want you to try to relax a bit. Get comfy and take a nap if you can. There’s a full bathroom across the hallway where you can take a shower if you want. I also recommend you walk the halls when you feel up to it. All these things can help get the labor progressing again. Ian, talk about memories you share, tell some jokes, or be your usual, sarcastic self, anything to make Angie smile and relax. Talk her into subspace if you can. As a last resort, Angie, I can give you a sedative, that won’t harm the baby, or I can start you on Pitocin.”

  “No! No Pitocin.” That was one of the things she’d learned about in an online chatroom for mothers and mothers-to-be. The drug was supposed to induce labor, but it could also result in needing a C-section. Also, if she had any chance of not giving birth until Ian arrived, induction would probably cancel that out.

  Monique patted her hand. “I remember you telling me you didn’t want to go that route, if at all possible, but I’m just reminding you it’s an option. The baby is not in any distress. Do those things I suggested, and we’ll keep monitoring you and the baby. As long as you’re both okay, we’ll let nature take its course. When he or she is ready, it’ll happen, okay?”

  Taking a deep breath, Angie let it out slowly. “Okay.” Suddenly the lack of sleep was making her tired, and she yawned. “Maybe I should try to nap.”

  “That sounds like a good idea, Angel.” Ian’s voice had softened now that he knew she and the baby were all right. “Did Kristen bring earbuds for the iPad?”

  “I have an extra set in the go-bag in the closet, why?”

  “Ask Kristen to get them for you and put them in. I want to talk to you without anyone else hearing me.”

  Within a few minutes, Angie and Ian were alone together, although they were still thousands of miles apart. Monique had left to see another patient, while Kristen had gone downstairs to get some breakfast with Shelby and Tori, who’d arrived to see how things were going. Before leaving, Kristen had turned off most of the room’s lights and closed the door.

  “Are you comfortable, Angel?”

  “As comfy as I can get, I guess.” It had taken a few moments to get the adjustable bed and her big belly into positions she could sleep in. She was on her left side, with only the right earbud in so she could hear him. He was standing in the jet’s galley, where he’d gone for some privacy. As he’d instructed, she’d folded open the cover to the iPad, so it was standing on its side on the tray table facing her. Kristen had plugged it into an outlet to charge it up again, after the battery had run down for the second time since they’d started Skyping.

  “Good girl. I want you to just relax and listen to my voice. Close your eyes.”

  “Mm-kay.”

  “We’re in the garden at the club. The Doms and subs are all watching. You’re naked, my little exhibitionist.” She smiled as his sexy, deep voice warmed her skin. “Everyone is admiring your beauty as I lead you to the St. Andrew’s cross. You stand face first against the soft leather and spread your legs for me. I run my hands up your sides to your arms and lift them, outstretched above your head. I can smell your arousal, Angel. It’s the most intoxicating scent in the world to me. You beg me to touch you there, but you know there’s no topping from the bottom. It’ll earn you a punishment, but you love my punishments—at least, when I finally let you cum, you do.”

  “You do get very creative, Sir.” Falling into D/s mode was instantaneous when he spoke to her like this. She didn’t even have to think about it, her body just reacted of its own accord. All she had to do was just feel.

  “That’s my good subbie.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I strap your wrists to the cross, then kiss my way down your spine to your luscious ass as I drop to my knees. I inhale deeply because your scent is so much stronger now. I drag my hands down one leg, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then I strap your ankle to the cross and do the same to your other leg. I check each restraint, making sure they aren’t too tight. Your body, mind, and soul are safe with me, Angel.”

  Her skin was tingling. Ian loved touching her bare flesh as much as she loved letting him.

  “You’re now at my mercy—but you were before I restrained you, weren’t you, my love?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her words came out as a murmur as the edges of subspace teased her mind.

  “What shall I d
o with you?”

  “Anything you want, Master.”

  Ian chuckled. “That’s right—I’ll do anything I want, and you’ll beg for more. You know how I love when you scream my name when I let you cum. Give me a color, Angel.”

  Even though he was obviously not doing anything but talking to her, they were still scening, and that meant rules were followed. “Green, Sir. I’m—actually, I’m not, Sir. A contraction is coming.”

  “That’s okay. Ride it out. Is this one stronger than before?”

  “Uh-uh.” But it still hurt. She did her Lamaze breathing until the pain began to fade. Opening her eyes, she looked at the screen. While he was trying to be strong for her, she could see the worry and guilt for not being there on his face. “Sorry, Sir.”

  “Okay, new rule until Little Bit gets here—no apologizing, Angel. I’m in awe of you. You’re stronger than you know, and I’m so proud of you.”

  She sniffled, fighting back her tears, exhaustion beginning to overtake her. Her eyes fluttered shut. “I love you, Ian.”

  “I love you too, Angel. Go to sleep. I’ll be right here watching over you.”

  14

  Before Devon’s vehicle came to a complete stop, Ian already had the passenger door open and was climbing out. Leaving his brother, and Brody’s laptop, behind, he hightailed it into the hospital’s lobby and didn’t bother stopping at the front desk. When a gray-haired guard called out to him, Ian just yelled over his shoulder, “My wife’s in labor.”

  “Good luck!” Guess it wasn’t the first time a frantic father-to-be had rushed past the older man.

  Bypassing the elevator, Ian shoved open the door to the stairs and then took them two at time up to the third floor. He remembered where the Labor & Delivery ward was from the tour they’d taken about three weeks ago as part of their Lamaze class. Angie’s contractions were now three minutes apart, and she was almost fully dilated. Somehow, some way, Little Bit had waited for him to get there. Angie had been in labor over eighteen hours, and it didn’t look like she’d make it to nineteen.

  During the long, gut-wrenching flight, CC had managed to catch a few jet streams, saving them about thirty minutes of airtime, which looked like it had made a world of difference in getting Ian to the hospital in time for the delivery. After landing, Ian had been chomping at the bit while they’d taxied to Trident’s assigned hangar. The second the stairs had hit the ground, he’d been running down them. Thankfully, Devon had his head on straighter than his older brother, because, out of the two of them, he was the only one who had his car keys in hand—Ian had forgotten his in his go-bag which had still been on the jet. His parents were catching a ride with the team, all of whom were headed to the hospital to wait for the newest arrival to the Trident family.

  Bursting out into the hallway, he almost ran over a nurse. “Sorry! Wife’s in labor!”

  “Good luck!”

  He ran down the hall, through the doors under the L&D sign, and slid to a stop at the reception desk. “My wife, Angelina Sawyer. Labor. What room?”

  Before the startled woman could answer him, he heard, “Ian! In here!”

  Shelby was waving to him from one of the rooms. She was wearing scrubs and holding another set. “Hurry! She had to start pushing.”

  Holy shit!

  Rushing into the room, he tried to make sense of the chaos. Angie’s legs were up in stirrups, with a blue sheet covering them. She was screaming, cursing, sweating, and panting all at the same time. Her gaze latched onto his, and he couldn’t miss the relief he saw in her eyes.

  Kristen was by her side, holding her hand and counting out loud. “Eight . . . nine . . . ten. There you go, relax.”

  “Uuuuugh!” Angie collapsed back on the incline of the bed. Her face was beet red, as she tried to catch her breath. “Ian! You . . . made it!”

  Several nurses were going about their duties as Monique pulled a stool over to sit on and got ready to deliver the baby. “Just in time, Ian. Throw those scrubs on over your clothes and wash your hands and arms. We probably only have another few contractions to go, so hurry.”

  He must have frozen in place because Shelby grabbed his arm. “Come here; these are your size.” She led him to the sink and turned on the water. In under a minute, he’d soaped up, rinsed off, and managed to get the scrub shirt and pants over his T-shirt and BDUs. Shelby squatted down in front of him with two shoe covers. “Let me put these on over your boots, so you don’t have to scrub again.”

  Damn it. He didn’t even realize he still had his dirty boots on. Thankfully, they were dry, and he hoped Angie and none of the hospital staff noticed the brownish stains of blood against the worn, black leather.

  Once he was set, Kristen stepped away from Angie’s side and let him move in before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll wait outside with everyone else. I’m glad you made it.”

  He didn’t have time to thank Kristen or Shelby because Angie grabbed his hand and squeezed like she was trying to crush his metacarpals. She screamed as the contraction took hold.

  “Dad, count to ten for her,” one of the nurses prodded.

  “Huh?” Oh, right, Lamaze. Counting. Got it. “Um, one, two, three . . .”

  Once more, Angie collapsed at number ten. She shook her head on the pillow behind it. “I . . . I can’t do this, Ian! The epidural’s not helping. Please, I can’t!

  Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, then whispered in her ear. “Yes, you can, Angel. Do you know how I know?”

  “N—no.”

  “Because you, my beautiful wife, are the strongest woman I know, and I know quite a few. You have to be strong to put up with me. Every time life knocked you down, you got up again. You’re going to be the best mother in the world. And because of you, I’m going to try to be the best father I can possibly be. We’ll probably stumble a few times, and we may even fall, but we’ll get up again and make sure Little Bit, and any other children we may have, will be prepared to take the world by storm when it’s their time. So whattaya say? Are you ready to have this baby?”

  “Well, when you put it that way . . .”

  He brushed her damp hair from her face, which was starting to fill with pain once more. She struggled to sit up. Putting his arm around her back, he helped her as she got ready to push. “I’ve got you, Angel. Let’s do this.”

  With her head resting on Chuck’s shoulder, Marie surveyed the maternity ward’s waiting room. It was filled with her sons’ friends, employees, and teammates, as they all awaited Little Bit’s arrival. The operatives had come straight from the airport, while others had already been here. When Kristen had come out not long ago, after passing the coaching torch to Ian, she’d announced it wouldn’t be much longer, and now everyone was even more excited than they’d been.

  It didn’t matter what the baby’s gender was, as long as he or she was healthy, but after having four boys herself, Marie was looking forward to spoiling a little girl. God help her, though, when she was old enough to date, because Ian would be cleaning his guns every time a young man picked her up—then again, Ian’s daughter would probably be sitting right next to him, cleaning her own guns.

  “Mom?”

  She looked up and smiled at Devon and JD. Her grandson was the spitting image of his father at that age, and it brought a rush of memories back to her. When Chuck had taken Ian to meet his baby brother for the first time at the hospital, he’d asked the two-and-a-half-year-old if he knew which one of the newborns in their bassinets on the other side of the window was Devon. Without hesitation, Ian pointed at the correct infant. “Dat’s my baby brudder!” He’d paused and then announced, “I’m gonna be the best big brudder in the whole world, Daddy.”

  And he had been and still was. When their time came to depart this life, Chuck and Marie knew their growing family’s new patriarch would take care of them until his own dying day.

  “Want to hold him for a bit?” Devon asked.

  She held out her hands. “That’s a sill
y question—of course I do.”

  Gently taking her grandson, she cuddled him close as Devon squatted in front of her. Marie stared down at the eyes that matched her own and all her sons’. Unexpected tears rolled down her cheek, and Devon reached up and wiped some away. “Hey, it’s okay, Mom. You’re here, and you will be for a long time.”

  If things had turned out differently, her family might have been mourning right now, despite the birth of Little Bit. She thanked God that wasn’t the case. She owed her sons her life, and wasn’t that ironic? They may not be perfect, but then again, who was? However, she would forever be proud of the men they’d become. They were good husbands to their spouses and would be excellent fathers to the children they’d have. After all, they’d had the best role model around in that department.

  Chuck’s arm had been resting behind her neck, and he squeezed her shoulder. “Darn right you’ll be. And there will be plenty more grandkids for you to dote on before you know it.”

  Sniffling, she raised her gaze, and it settled on Nick and Jake, sitting next to each other on the opposite side of the room. Their heads were close together, and they were deep in a private conversation. Her smile appeared again and grew as she turned back to her husband, “I think you’re right.”

  “Break out the cigars!” Ian declared from the doorway, with sparkling eyes and the broadest grin Marie had ever seen on his face. “It’s a girl! God help me and any little shit that wants to date her someday.”

  Everyone jumped to their feet, gathered around, and cheered.

  “What’s her name?” Kristen prodded, since the new parents had kept a list of all possible names for boys and girls to themselves.

  “Peyton Marie Sawyer weighs eight pounds, five ounces, has a full head of black hair, and came kicking and screaming into the world, just as I knew she would.” He accepted a fat cigar with a baby-pink ribbon around it from Brody as others were handed out by Nick and Boomer. Apparently, they’d stocked up on them in both pink and blue for the occasion.