by Luna Lucas
“Thank you, Liam.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said, settling down beside me, reaching out and stroking my cheeks tenderly. “You were so brave, Mari.”
“I just…I wasn’t going to go back with him. I would have died before I let him have me.”
Liam kissed my forehead, and I looked up at him, smiling softly. “You saved me.”
“You saved me.”
“No,” he said sternly, even as my eyes started to close again. “You saved yourself.”
“We did it together.”
“I suppose I can agree with that.”
I could hear the smile in his voice, and I wanted to respond, maybe throw a few more playful jabs, but I was too tired and too sore. My eyes slipped closed as his hand rested on my belly. I could only hope and pray that our baby was okay.
Chapter Fifteen
Days passed, and nothing seemed wrong. The baby still kicked and squirmed like normal. The doctor dropped by just to check on me since Liam had been by his home, nervously asking for him to make a house call. The doctor confirmed that the baby was just fine and that within the month we would be meeting our child. I was not expecting it to come so soon, however.
A week after my encounter with Reynold I was lost in a deep sleep, curled against Liam for warmth. Even though it was Spring and the days were warm, the nights were cold. I liked the excuse to be so close to Liam, and he didn’t seem to mind either.
I was dreaming sweet dreams of the wedding we planned to have one day. When the people in town found out we weren’t actually married, I was a little worried that they’d be slightly less welcoming, but they could see we were happy and they seemed to understand why I’d fled my previous marriage.
A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, and I gasped, sitting up so quickly that I nearly fell to the floor. I pressed my hands to my stomach, sucking in a deep breath as the pain subsided. I frowned and rubbed where the pain had shot through my body before I settled back down, assuming it had been a cramp. I closed my eyes and started to doze off again but as I floated between sleep and wakefulness another pain hit me, and this was worse than the last. The muscles tensed, and a pressure wound its way through my belly, squeezing and pinching until there were tears in my eye.
I cried out, and Liam shot up, his eyes wide as he looked at me, panic running across his face. “Darlin’? Darlin’!” He grabbed me by the shoulders and helped me sit up, cupping my cheeks. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. I-AHH!” I clutched my belly and whimpered, tears coming to my eyes.
My answer came in a far more dramatic way than I would have expected. Within a few minutes of the pain, the bed became wet and a warm, clear liquid soaked my nightgown and the sheets underneath me.
“The baby! It’s the baby!” I gasped, gripping his arm. I didn’t know much about what to expect during childbirth, but they had warned me of this.
“What should I do?!” Liam was completely out of his element, and I could see his brain going a million miles a minute. I had to stay calm for his sake.
“We need…you need to go next door and get the neighbor.”
He was out of bed and dressed in slacks within a few seconds and already out the door. I knew he didn’t want to leave me alone, but someone had to get the midwife, and I knew I couldn’t move from the bed. Then sharp pains in my belly were coming faster and more intense. Every time I felt it coming I would curl my fingers in the quilt and hold my breath, silently waiting for the ripping pain to subside. It was as if a wild dog was tearing at my insides and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it.
The pain made it hard to keep track of time. I wasn’t sure how long I laid in the bed for, writhing in pain. The midwife came, but by the time she arrived the world was a blur and all I could think about was the pain. I was sure that there was something wrong. Having a baby couldn’t possibly be this painful, could it?
Liam was trying to talk to me, calling for me and trying to touch my hand, but every time he touched it, I would grab it and squeeze until he cried out and pulled his hand away. Had I broken it? I really didn’t know. I didn’t know what was going on anymore. There were people around me, urging me to stay calm and push when then told me to.
If they thought I was going to listen, they had another thing coming. My body was telling me exactly what I needed to do and that was the only thing I was going to listen to. Despite the pain and despite the chaos around me, I gave one final push, screaming and clinging to Liam’s arm.
There was a sudden, unexpected relief as my child was born into the midwife’s waiting arms. There was a moment of tense silence, and finally, the cry of my newborn child filled the small room. I watched through hazed eyes as the midwife cleaned the baby up and swaddled it in a blanket she brought from her house.
Finally, she put the child in my arms, smiling adoringly at us. “Congratulations. You and your husband are the proud parents of a healthy baby girl.”
The sweet smell of the baby overwhelmed me, and I let out a breathy laugh as her soft, wispy blonde hair tickled my nose. She was perfect and so warm. I cradled her to my chest, brushing my shaking fingers over her perfect soft skin. I was so enamored by her that I didn’t even notice when Liam settled beside me until he wrapped his arms around us and pressed a kiss to my sweaty forehead.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “You did so good. I’m so proud. You…are so amazing.” His voice was filled with awe as he gazed down at our daughter.
I smiled and leaned into him. “We did it together,” I murmured, echoing his words about Reynold. “We did it together, my love.”
He smiled and pressed his nose into my hair. “We did.”
We both knew he didn’t do much when it came to carrying and birthing our daughter, but that wasn’t the point. We had fought so long and so hard for this and now we finally had everything we’d wanted. We were a family, and we were safe and happy. This was the start of something beautiful for us, and I was happier than I could possibly put into words. I felt I should say something, but I was afraid words might ruin the beauty of the moment.
The midwife excused herself to warm some water, and I was glad to be alone with Liam and our child. I looked down at the blue-eyed baby and smiled, watching as she smacked her lips together and blinked her big eyes.
“What should we name her?” Liam murmured, stroking a wisp of hair out of my face.
“I think we should name her Hope.”
“Hope?”
“It’s fitting, don’t you think?” I asked with a tired smile. “She’s our hope for the future. Our little gift from God.”
“I think that’s perfect.”
He leaned over me and offered me a tender kiss. At that moment, I knew that everything was going to be alright.
Epilogue
Life was perfect. Little Hope was five years old now and growing like a weed. She had big, bright blue eyes that could have lit up a room and soft golden curls. She was the light of our lives and completed us. I never knew that having a family could be so fulfilling. When I married Reynold, I assumed that I would have children and watch them get yanked from my arms so that the governess could raise them. I never imagined that I would have the opportunity to be a proper mother.
The wind blew through the trees outside, making the branches sing and I watched as Hope leaned against the wood, her little button nose squished against the glass. Her eyes were wide, darting back and forth as she searched the darkness outside.
“Angel, what are you looking for?” I asked, tucking my dress under my knees as I stirred the stew that was bubbling over the fire.
“I’m looking for Daddy!”
I rose from the hearth and collected a thick blanket and draped it around Hope’s shoulders. I leaned down and kissed the top of her head, closing my eyes to remember that sweet, powdery smell that clung to her after birth. I missed that smell.
“He will be home soon. Come away fro
m the window. You’re going to catch your death.”
She sighed but stood, her long, linen nightgown unfolding and brushing the floor. It was a bit too big for her, but she’d grow into it. She followed me to the fireplace, sitting beside the pine tree that nearly touched our ceiling. She’d helped her father drag it from the forest a few days before and was still quite proud of it.
Just as we’d settled in, I heard the tell-tale sound of rocks shifting under boots.The door creaked open, and Liam walked inside the cabin, removing his hat and scarf, setting them aside. Hope was on her feet within moments and ran over to him, throwing her arms around him and holding him tight.
“Daddy!”
Liam held a red box under one arm but used his free one to lift Hope in the air, swinging her around and kissing her cheek. “Hello there, my little love!”
“Where were you, Daddy?” she asked, looking up at him as he set her on the ground.
“I had to go into town, so I could get you and Mama an early Christmas present.”
Hope’s eyes lit up, and I chuckled as Liam walked over and kissed me on the cheek. “A present?”
“Yes. I thought our tree was looking a little bear.” He offered me the silk wrapped box, and I stared at it for a moment before finally opening it.
When I saw what was inside I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. “Liam!”
Inside the box were several beautiful ornaments with gold details and colorful paintings. They were just like the one we’d hung on the Christmas tree the night we fled the city. “Oh my goodness.”
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked, lifting one from the box so that Hope could see it.
He placed it in her hand gently and smiled. “Be very careful, Hope.”
“Daddy! They’re beautiful!” she sang.
I felt tears come to my eyes and I smiled at him, stepping closer to press my lips to his, holding the kiss for a long moment. “They’re perfect, Liam.”
“Merry Christmas, darlin’.”
Hope tugged on my skirt and pointed to the tree. “Let’s put them on the tree, Mama!”
I followed her and together, the three of us decorated the tree, laughing and singing carols. The world was perfect, and everything was in its place. I never thought I’d have a life like this, but I was thankful for every moment I had with my family. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
THE END
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About Author – Eveline Hart
First and foremost, I am the mother of a handsome two-year-old boy. He is my pride and joy. We currently reside in a small beach town in the South. I have always loved writing, but until recently, never considered writing books. Well, I’ve decided to try it out, and I hope you enjoy reading these books just as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them. Thank you for taking the time to read my books.
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This is the second Western book I’ve written. I am actually a survivor of domestic abuse myself. I wanted to include the topic of domestic abuse in this book to give other women in the same situation ideas about the possibility of a different future. I plan to write more books in this series, especially if I hear from you the readers that you want more. Please either join my Exclusive Reader’s List or engage on my Facebook page to let me know if you want to read more of my books. Do you have ideas, themes or topics you’d like me to write about? If so, let’s hear it!
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BONUS BOOK 2 Description
THE INNOCENT FIGHTER
Book 1 of the Innocent & Missing Series
By: Joli Torres
A Romantic Suspense Novella
Book Description:
From the moment she sensed him, she knew he was innocent…
Adrianna Whetmore is a star agent for the FBI. Her sixth sense helps her track down fugitives and bring them in without a hitch.
Until she meets David “The Celtic” O’Brien. He was definitely not someone she should be falling for. He is an MMA fighter covered with tattoos, and known for his skill at knocking fighters out cold. Worse, he’s a wanted fugitive.
Her plan is to turn him in. She refuses to get attached to him. Yet, there is just something about him. He draws her in. Makes her want to prove his innocence. But proving his innocence could come at the cost of losing her job, or worse, her life. Will she risk it all for a man she just met?
Copyright 2016 by Kenzo Publishing - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
The Innocent Fighter
By: Joli Torres
Table of contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 1
Adrianna always found it weird to go through a wanted man’s belongings.
When she had first gone into the force, she figured that all wanted men would have… something illegal. Drugs maybe. Guns? Guns seemed pretty likely. Usually she was right. Usually their apartments showed what kind of human beings she was dealing with: scared, dangerous people, forever looking back over their shoulders and wondering how close she was behind them, like a train slowly picking up speed and catching a man on horseback.
These people were usually men. She didn’t know why. Maybe crime was sexist. But these men, they were usually bigger than her. Stronger. Faster. That wasn’t a problem. Adrianna had fought lots of boys bigger and stronger than her back in kindergarten. She had been put in the time out corner more than a couple times, and had Mrs. White give her parents a lecture about how they were rearing too much of a tomboy.
Even as a child, Adrianna could remember looking up at her father standing over her, listening to her crimes that day. Hitting a boy for taking her toy. Roughing around too much. Telling a liar that he was a “liar, liar, pants on fire.” She couldn’t remember him too much, but she had a memory of him looking down at her and messing up her hair affectionately.
“Aren’t you listening to me?” Mrs. White demanded. “I’m trying to tell you how much she’s misbehaving.”
He smiled at her. It was that moment that Adrianna would remember him by, grinning, with big, purple letters suspended from the ceiling behind him in that kindergarten classroom. “I heard you,” Adrianna remembered him saying. “That’s my girl.”
Mrs. White demanded that Adrianna be punished, but Dad hadn’t seen things her way. He sat her down in the car and asked her what had happened. She explained that she had been right, that the big jerk had tried to take her limited-edition Woodie from Toy Story. When she’d kindly told him that he could see it in a second and that she wasn’t done using it yet, he had tried to take it.
Big mistake.
“And so I reared back a fist, just like you taught me.” Even as Adrianna walked around The Celtic’s apartment, her lips turned up in just the faintest smile. “And socked him right in the kisser!”
Her father hadn’t been mad. Rather the opposite. He had taken her out to ice cream and told her to never, ever, ever give in to the bullies. He told her that she would face bullies and bad people her whole life, and that she couldn’t back down. That she had to defend herself.
He was the reason that she’d gone into the FBI. Back in the apartment, her smile faltered. She missed him. He was everything to her. He was gone too early.
Now she had to get back to focusing on the apartment. David “The Celtic” O’Brien didn’t have any guns or drugs in his quaint, little apartment. For an MMA fighter, he lived like a gentleman. His apartment—no, his home—was obviously well cared for. She almost felt a little out of place, like she was treading on a friend’s home. Perhaps in another world, they even would have been friends.
She liked the way the apartment was set up. She found her stylish side kicking into gear in a way that it normally didn’t. He obviously had some style. It was minimalistic and simple: white walls, recessed lights, all that good stuff. It looked like it was modeled after a Japanese apartment, the kind that has bamboo furniture that gets featured in a modern home magazine, except for the walls, where The Celtic’s 3-year-old daughter had taken to creating her own artwork on the white surfaces with crayons.
She pulled herself together. No, the Celtic wasn’t a man. He was a fugitive, a dangerous one, who had killed. He wasn’t a father. He was just a target. At least that was what her teachings had taught her, but somehow, looking at his daughter’s crooked writing on the walls with a big pink heart around what she could only assume was a picture of The Celtic and her together, it was hard to see him as such a dangerous fugitive.