Conor Thames (Blackwater Boys Book 1)

by R. J. Lewis

  Dave’s expression fell flat. “Cut it the fuck out, Conor. I’m done playing nice. I’ve done everything I can to smooth out this relationship. I even offered you to work with us on the car venture, but you’d rather be with your delinquent friends. Do you really want to go prison? With your rap sheet, you don’t stand a chance with what the police are going to throw at you. The judge is going to take one look at you and throw you back in the slammer, and then we’ll be going around in circles all over again. Break the fucking wheel. If not for yourself, for your goddamn girl.”

  With the way his muscles twitched, Thames was aware he was coated in adrenaline. He knew his urges were clouding his logic. He was aware he had to put Charlotte and the baby first. But accepting this fucker’s offer of help about the recent potential charges just felt dirty.

  “I don’t need your fucking help,” he finally said, zero bullshit in him now. “I just want that guy as far away from her as possible. I don’t even want her to see him. You understanding what I’m saying, Dave? You think you can put a leash on that fucker?”

  “He isn’t a fucking dog.”

  “Answer.”

  Dave bit his rage back. Impressive for a Thames. “I vow Billy will not go near her, nor even look in her direction, so long as you keep your distance with my business. Don’t sabotage my shit, and don’t touch my boys. You got it?”

  Yeah, he fucking got it.

  Because when it came down to it, this wasn’t about Thames, or Dave, or their fucking chop shop. This was about keeping Charlotte safe and happy and taken care of. And Dave knew it. Everyone knew Thames’ weakness.

  He got it because no amount of expelling that adrenaline was going to solve anything. He only ended up hurting himself. He couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the slammer. He couldn’t stand the idea of being away from Charlotte for a day.

  At the end of the day, love would tame him.

  It had to.

  *

  Thames stepped out into warm air finally understanding. The picture was so much bigger than him.

  He felt…different.

  He felt…at peace.

  He had to change.

  If not for Charlotte, then for the baby.

  Over the following weeks, Dave made a radical change too. He divided Blackwater, and he made sure his ratty vampire boy steered clear. For a while there, Thames caught word that Billy had left the town in heavy despair. He knew Dave was behind the scenes, trying to fix him.

  When weeks turned to months, Thames let out a long breath of relief.

  Charlotte was going to be okay.

  Chapter Twenty

  Charlotte

  My centre of gravity was fucked. I couldn’t easily get out of bed. It was now a matter of how fast I could roll to the edge and spring to my feet, but now my feet were swollen, and they looked like they belonged in a Hobbit film.

  My afternoon nap was a fail. I couldn’t get comfortable. My bladder was full five minutes into it. When I managed getting up, I waddled to the window and looked out. It was raining lightly, and the streets were filled with fog.

  I lightly closed my eyes to the patter of the rain.

  It started in the rain. In a car. Fast breaths and prolonged gazes. Now I was going to have his baby in a week’s time.

  This was my home. I’d learned to call it mine, and I made it mine. We spent the last few months renovating the house, knocking down walls and opening the rooms together. The kitchen was being updated, and new furniture was due to arrive.

  The nursery was finished, and her ultrasound photos were hung on the wall next to her crib and on the fridge and in our bedroom. She looked so perfect, our little Penny. We couldn’t wait to meet her.

  Conor humoured me throughout the pregnancy. He read the parenting books and went to maternity class with me every week. He bought me sweets and ran out for take-outs whenever I had a deep craving. I’d gained a good thirty pounds – at least – but he never looked at me any differently.

  His change wasn’t immediate. It was gradual and honest. I had to save him a number of times in the beginning before he finally found ways to cope. His biggest release was the garage. He’d flipped four cars in less than a year, and the money was staggering. He found something he was good at, and he never second-guessed himself.

  “You know,” I said to him once in bed as he cuddled me and stroked my growing belly, “You said you can’t control your impulses, but you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  “What do you mean, dove?” he’d asked.

  “You never picked up a drink once.”

  “Because nothing scares me more than being an alcoholic. It runs in my blood.”

  “So does your anger.”

  He paused, considering that. “I guess I felt anger was the lesser of two evils.”

  While he hadn’t been arrested once over the last year, his court appearance was due next week. He didn’t know if he was going back to prison or for how long, but our sole mission was having the baby before he might have to. I needed him to be there for the birth. I was certain witnessing this miracle was going to shut the door completely on Conor’s old life.

  There was no hoping required about it.

  *

  “Do you think he’s going to propose?” Laura asked, munching on a muffin in my kitchen as I ran around cleaning the countertops. I had to pause midway through when a Braxton hick shot through me. They were happening too regularly to count these days, but they were never too close together to signal a real labour.

  My amazing Laura had decided to stay back an extra year in Blackwater, claiming there was no way in hell she was going to miss a single moment of my pregnancy. These days, she had quit the gothic attire and was now sporting short-shorts and oversized crops. Her hair was dyed blue and black and cut in a bob. It suited her.

  “And would you stop cleaning? You’re making me dizzy.”

  Cleaning had become somewhat of an obsession after I’d been forced to stop working at Jem’s bar. He’d strictly cut me off, telling me if I leaned over a table one more time, he was going to charge me for the cost of it if I fell through it.

  That was Jem for you. As charming as a fucking beetle.

  I smiled at Laura, feeling my cheeks heat. “He’s been acting weird.”

  “He’s going to propose,” Megan cut in, crossing her legs as she sat around the dining table, keeping her eye on Lily who was spinning around in circles up and down the hallway in her ballerina outfit.

  I wondered where Ember was. When I asked Megan, she had wearily shrugged and said she had no fucking idea. I maintained to this day Ember had a double-life. The girl was shady as fuck, and when I did happen to ever see her, she looked either pissed off at the world, or too tired to keep her eyes open.

  “How do you know?” I asked her, biting my lower lip. “Did he say anything?”

  “No, but a mother knows these things. He’ll do it tonight.”

  “Yeah, reservations at the classiest restaurant in town is no easy feat,” Laura said.

  I thought about it, excited for a second, feeling my heart pump with glee before I talked myself out of it again and shook my head.

  “No way,” I said. “Conor’s never mentioned marriage.”

  “He’s mentioned forever, though,” Laura pointed out.

  This was true, but…naaah. I wasn’t going to fill my head with this shit. I wouldn’t handle the disappointment these days. I was too emotional.

  Another Braxton hick came over me. I paused and breathed through the pain, feeling my rock-hard belly.

  “You need to put the rag down,” Megan ordered, noticing. “Clean yourself up. Enough with the nesting.”

  “You got a nice outfit, Char?”

  I nodded and the pain finally subsided. “I got a white wrap dress from the maternity store.”

  “Oooh. Does it show off your epic cleavage?”

  I laughed. My bosoms had definitely ballooned, and I couldn’t help but admire the
changes my body had made. Conor certainly noticed. He’d done a good job trying to “induce” labour last night. It didn’t work, but he promised he would selflessly try again and again.

  We spent the next half hour talking about weddings and speculating what kind of ring Conor would get me. The thought of that big guy at a jewellery store shopping for a ring made me giggle. He wouldn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

  We had spent the whole day shopping for last minute baby stuff, all in the hopes to get my body moving and get the baby out. All that resulted in were endless false alarms. When they finally left, I collapsed on the bottom of the staircase and had a mini breather.

  When I finally trudged up the stairs, my phone pinged with a message. It was from Conor.

  One hour, baby. I can’t wait to see you.

  I smiled and set it down. Taking my clothes off, I stepped into the shower and had a quick rinse. I’d washed my hair in the morning already, so I put it in a bun and focused on my body. I soaped my belly and stared down at it, half-laughing because I couldn’t even see my toes sticking out.

  More pain shot through me. My belly went rock solid, but it wasn’t a contraction I felt. It was just a crampy feeling that was new. I waited for it to pass, and then I resumed. Penny had gone quiet in the womb lately. The doctor had said it was normal this close to labour, but I missed her movements, missed her flips and kicks.

  After I finished, I wrapped a towel around me and strode to the closet. The dress was still hung up. I grabbed it and looked it over, second-guessing how good it looked. These days, I felt like everything hung off me like a tent. As I threw it on, ignoring my reflection in the mirror – I didn’t need to see that – I felt a wet trickle down my leg.

  Quickly putting my arms through, I bent down and raised the dress. There was a long clear drop coming from my vagina. I wiped the towel over it and sniffed it. It had no smell. Confused, I threw the towel down and went back to the bathroom to do my make-up.

  Suddenly, I felt a strange pop and another trickle cascaded down my leg. And then another. And then a sharp fucking pain followed. I sucked in a breath and grabbed at the door to steady myself.

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered, horrified. “Not tonight. He’s going to propose. Not tonight.”

  Peering down, I watched as water began to trickle out of me, faster than before. I knew straight away I had broken my waters.

  I hurried to the phone before shit escalated any further. I’d read about this too many times to count. It might take hours – days even after your water broke – or it might take hours, even minutes for active labour to begin.

  Conor, I’m having the baby. Come here now.

  I threw the phone down and raced around the house, stopping by the nursery to grab the hospital bag. Halfway down the stairs, I realized I’d forgotten the baby bag. I hurried back up, feeling bolts of pain shooting up my back. I breathed deeply, trying to use maternity class methods to calm my fear.

  It did nothing.

  Like…fucking nothing.

  After I grabbed the baby bag, I was pissed I packed so much shit into it. No wonder Megan gave me that long eye when I’d done it. She should’ve said something.

  As I ran back down, I felt a knife-like pain down below unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I groaned, sucking in air, feeling my belly harden. Nearly collapsing, I held onto the bannister with all my might and banged my forehead against it.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Not like this.

  I wanted a water birth.

  I wanted everyone there.

  I groaned as more pain tore me through.

  Were the contractions supposed to come in waves this soon?

  Dropping the bag, because fuck it, Conor could grab it, I hurried to the very bottom of the stairs and opened the front door and stepped out into the night. It was still raining, and I spread my arms out, greeting the cool rain as it fell over my face and down my body. I felt like every inch of me was on fire.

  Another contraction hit, this time lasting longer and growing worse. I moaned and fell to the ground, holding my hard belly. As I struggled to breathe through the pain, I heard footsteps hurrying to me.

  “Conor!” I cried, reaching my arm out. “We have to go. Oh, my God. We have to go now.”

  Arms wrapped around me and I held him, but he felt all wrong. A different scent filled my nose and I buckled back like I’d been burned.

  “No, no, no,” I groaned, hitting his arms away.

  Billy looked like he was crying. He gripped my shoulders. “You’re hurting, Charlotte. Let me take you.”

  Where the fuck did he come from?

  “You were gone!” I spewed, clenching my teeth as a ripple of pain tore through me.

  “I’m here now,” he replied softly. “I’m not going anywhere again.”

  No, no, no.

  “Go away, Billy.”

  “I can’t stay away, Charlotte. I can’t. I tried.” He looked tormented, his face pale and distraught. “Please, let me take you. Please.”

  As another wave tore through my belly, seizing it, I groaned into the open air and relented. He helped me up, holding me gently toward the grey car stalling.

  “You’re going to be alright,” he said. “I’ll take care of you. This is happening for a reason. We’ll go far away, Charlotte. You won’t regret this.”

  I tore away from his grip and stepped away from him. “Go away, Billy,” I said, terrified now.

  He grabbed at my arm, tugging me to him, pleading. “Let me take care of you, Charlotte. Can’t you see this is happening because we belong together? This is meant to be.”

  He was crazy.

  This was fucked.

  I wanted to scream.

  “I am not going anywhere!” I screamed, turning back to the house now. I hurried to the front door when I felt his arms wrap around me.

  “Please, stop it. Please, Charlotte.”

  I scratched at his bare arms, but he wouldn’t move. Another wave hit, and I was immobilized with pain. I collapsed, and he caught me, slowly bringing me down to the ground. He kissed my head, my shoulders, my back.

  “Charlotte, I missed you,” he murmured desperately. “Please…”

  As I tried to move again, he forced me down onto my belly, sending a shockwave of agony through me. My legs needed to be spread. I needed to push. I felt him behind me. Felt him touch me. His hand roamed down my back and below my dress, and I couldn’t move but I tried.

  I sobbed, my forehead pressed into the pavement, pleading for this to be over. He couldn’t. Not now.

  “Stop it!” I screamed.

  He wasn’t. He touched me where I needed to push and then I heard his belt.

  This was fucked.

  So fucked.

  I felt a strong urge to push and so I did. I screamed through a burning feeling between my legs. I felt his hand there and I was vomiting out bile at the same time as I was pushing.

  Suddenly, a growl broke through the moment and air replaced his body. I heard his body fall nearby. I blinked through the falling rain and saw a pair of familiar shoes. Conor’s shoes. I heard him roar, cursing as he senselessly grabbed Billy and began kicking him.

  I groaned and began crawling to him. Slammed with another urge to push, I stopped and felt heavy weight settle between my legs. This was white searing pain. This was death and I couldn’t escape it. It was torture with no respite.

  “Conor!” I screamed.

  I looked down between my legs and saw dark hair. Oh, my God. I looked back at Conor, and he was still kicking Billy, only Billy wasn’t moving now.

  “Baby is coming,” I groaned.

  He stopped mid-kick and turned to me. His expression void of emotion, that adrenaline coursing through him – I shook my head, pleading for him to come back to me.

  Please, not now. I need you.

  The sight of me broke through the moment. Realization dawned in his eyes and he rushed to me, falling to hi
s knees.

  “I have to take you back into the house, dove –”

  “No,” I screamed. “I can’t, Conor. I can’t. It has to be here. Please, I can’t move.”

  He helped set me down on my back, my head resting on his lap. Then he tore his sleek button up shirt off and shoved it under my bum, creating a cushion there.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he told me, panting over me as he raised my dress and stared between my legs. “You’re bleeding real bad, baby. I see her head. I see her coming.”

  “Conor,” I sobbed. “It hurts.”

  Looking wrecked for me, he stroked my hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just listen to your body. That’s what they said, remember? They said listen to your body and breathe.”

  I breathed deeply as the urge began to fall over me again.

  It was death all over again.

  I felt everything inside me separating.

  “Breathe and then push, dove,” he told me soothingly.

  I pushed as hard as I could and felt more of her coming out of me. Conor’s eyes widened, and he blinked down at me.

  “She’s almost here, baby. One more.”

  I pushed one more time – barely breathing through it – and felt her fall out of me.

  Immediately, the pain subsided.

  Crying, I leaned forward and quickly picked her up, setting her down on my chest. Conor helped me, his gaze trapped on our tiny baby as she opened her mouth and bellowed into the air.

  She felt too light, too thin, too fragile.

  “We gotta get you inside, baby,” he said, but his voice broke.

  I didn’t know why until I heard the sirens in the distance. He immediately backed away from me, staring down at her with an ache in his expression.

  “Conor,” I pleaded.

  I held her out to him, but he shook his head.

  “No,” he snapped, eyes red. “I won’t ruin her. All I do is destroy everything I touch, dove. I’m not wrecking her.”

  I kept her to me, stunned as he kept his distance. For the first time, I saw him cry. Conor Thames cried in the rain, sobbing as he looked at her with love in his eyes but trepidation that immobilized him.