The Mountain Man's Babies Books 1-5

by Frankie Love

  I’m relieved.

  “What do you mean?” my uncle asks. “How is it possible?”

  The auction is set to happen in two days.

  I knew I needed to say something before he offered me to the highest bidder.

  “When I ran away I slept with someone.”

  My uncle lifts his face in disgust. “You are a dirty little bliad’.”

  “No, I’m not,” I tell him, tears on my face. Because even though I think this news will buy my freedom, I can’t be sure he won’t do something horrible. Slap me, beat me, lock me in a cage. I run my hand over my slightly swollen belly. “I never meant to get pregnant, but now I can’t be sold.”

  My uncle’s nostrils flare. “We will go the family doctor. Now.”

  “Why?” I shake my head. I want him to toss me on the street, to say I’m a waste of space. Let me leave.

  “Why? You dare ask me why? Stupid girl,” he growls. “You are mine and you will do as I say.”

  He grabs me by the base of my neck, guiding me through a corridor, towards the exit. Outside a car is waiting for us. He isn’t letting me out of his clutches.

  “Our family has money, but more than that, we have power. And I won’t let some little peshka like you ruining our family name.”

  “You consider me family yet treat me like an animal?” I sob, sitting in the town car as his driver winds through city streets. He just ignores me, won’t even look in my eyes. I feel so trapped, stuck. Like a fucking fool.

  We stop at the back entrance of a sketchy building and my uncle glares at me. “You speak a single fucking word without being asked and you’ll regret it. Understood?”

  I nod too scared to speak.

  In the office, I’m handed a cup to pee in by a silver haired woman. I do as instructed, then hand her back the filled sample. She is as quiet as a mouse. But all women are when they’ve spent years keeping their mouths shut.

  After that I’m as good as thrown into a doctor’s office that smells like rotting cabbage, dank and dreary, and my uncle follows. A man with a dark suit and grey skin is pulling on latex gloves.

  “This the girl?” he asks in a thick Russian accent. Of course it is a man who is connected. Anyone else would ask for proof of insurance, there would be paperwork to sign. Not to mention, my consent. But not here. I’m just instructed to get on a tissue paper lined table and lie back.

  Within moments the doctor’s hands are parting my thighs, prodding me with a vaginal ultrasound, while a monitor displays the images of my deepest parts. He doesn’t seem to think addressing me is necessary. He speaks over me, to my uncle.

  “The urine sample confirmed the pregnancy. This machine will tell us how far along she is.”

  My uncle grunts at the news and I inhale sharply, as the ultrasound presses hard against my most sensitive space. I am pregnant. And I know exactly how far along I am.

  Buck who touched me softly, who whispered promises he intended to keep. Buck, who touched me like he knew me. Like he wanted to know me forever.

  Buck who I left in an effort to protect.

  I want to get back to him.

  To tell him the news.

  I am carrying his child.

  “This is not expected,” the doctor says. His words cause me to return to reality.

  “Not expected? Is something wrong?” I ask.

  My uncle shoots me daggers. “Quiet, woman.”

  “It is twins, unmistakable,” the doctor says, pointing to two heartbeats pounding faster than my own.

  “Twins?” I eek, blinking at the truth revealed on the monitor.

  “She is four and a half months along,” he tells my uncle. “We can’t see the gender yet. She will need to return every two weeks so we can monitor the progress of the fetuses.”

  I dress, and in minutes we’re back in the town car, driving back to the mansion.

  “You devushka po vyzovu,” my uncle says in disgust.

  Tears slip down my face. Twins.

  “Do you want me to leave?” I ask. “I can go and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  My uncle turns to me, shaking his head at me like I’m a fool.

  Maybe I am.

  “You think you can leave now?”

  “Well, I can’t very well be sold as a virgin.”

  “Of course you can’t. But Rosalind, I’m not selling you anymore.”

  “What are you selling then?” I ask, the horror spreading in my gut, and I hold my belly protectively, not wanting any horrible thoughts to be absorbed by my babies.

  “The twins of course. You think a virgin carries a high price? Twins on the black market are pure fucking gold.”

  Chapter Nine

  I return to the diner after stopping at the Sheriff’s office. To be honest, I’m a little annoyed that I went, considering they didn’t have much to say besides asking if I got a fucking license plate number. What the fuck? My focus was on Rosie, on making sure she was okay.

  And now, I need to get back to her.

  People say love at first sight isn’t real, well then those fools have never had a woman like Rosie riding their cock, her lips swollen and her tits full and round – and no I’m not talking lust here. I mean sure, her appearance turns me on, but what I feel for her is deeper than that. I’ve seen plenty of pretty girls before and they never drew out this animalistic desire deep inside of me, that is driving me to protect her at all costs.

  I need to take this woman to my cabin and show her that I’ll take care of her for the rest of her precious life.

  My tires crunch over the gravel in the parking lot, and I jump out of the cab, ready to see her again.

  My parents are arguing, which, truth be told, is not exactly their mode of operation. They get along, are willing to do anything for one another. Hell, my mom was running around the property today chasing my dad’s dumbass dogs.

  “What’s up?” I ask, the door jangling behind me. I scan the diner for Rosie, but she isn’t here. “Where’s Rosie.”

  “That’s the problem, Buck. She’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?” I ask, immediately on the offensive. “You know there were two guys packing heat, looking for her, right?”

  “Her?” mom asks. “Buck, you said they were here, trying to rob the diner, you said nothing about Rosie.”

  “Fuck,” I shout, my hands running through my hair. “When did she leave? I’ve been gone about an hour.”

  “It must have been minutes after you left. She went to the bathroom to freshen up and after awhile, I went looking for her. The backdoor was slightly ajar, and she was gone.”

  “Did you go after her?”

  My dad nods. “Yeah, we walked the property, checking to see if she was out there, hell, maybe taking out the trash or something, but she wasn’t anywhere.”

  “We even called the motel,” Mom says. “Apparently she checked out, Janice running the front desk said she was really a sweet thing, but said she had a family emergency and needed to leave, even though she’d paid cash for the entire week.”

  “Shit,” I press a fist in my palm. “This is bad. Those guys probably came back.”

  “Did she know them?” my mom asks, her eyes wide.

  “Yeah, the guys were looking for her, but I don’t know why. This is fucking messed up.”

  “Language, Buck.” Dad frowns.

  “You do realize two men with guns just took Rosie against her will, and that we have no way of tracing them?”

  Dad shakes his head. “Not against her will, son,” he says, crossing his arms. “She left here on her own accord. Truth be told, it doesn’t sound like she was very stable. Hitchhiked to middle-of-nowhere Idaho with men after her.”

  “You hired her Mom, do you have her name, social security number or something for tax purposes?” I ask, grasping for a clue, something. Anything.

  Mom grimaces. “You know I’m not exactly the best at business. I figured I’d pay her under the table until I decided if she
was a good fit.”

  “This is so messed up.” I pace the diner, desperate. Lost. Wanting so much for Rosie to be here so I could take her home. “I’m going to the motel, maybe she left a clue. And I’ll call the Sheriff, obviously”

  “Why are you so interested in this girl, Buck,” Dad asks.

  “It’s not some girl. Rosie is my woman.”

  “Sweetie, you just met. Looks like she made you lunch and you saved her from the men, but it was only an hour. How much can you know in that length of time?”

  I shake my head, not having any of it. “Sometimes you just know. And I know Rosie and I aren’t through. She and I – we’ve just begun.”

  The next night I walk into Jaxon and Harper’s home exhausted. I feel beat up, battered and bruised.

  “Dude, you look like shit,” Jaxon says, offering me a cold one.

  I take a long pull on the beer and follow him to the kitchen. Harper is pulling the potpie from the oven, a salad is tossed and on the island. And all three of their babies are in identical highchairs in various states of disarray. Food in their hair, on their faces, and what looks like mashed up, steamed carrots painted all over their highchair trays.

  “Hello, Bucky,” Harper says, giving me a hug, her hand still wearing a potholder. She’s the only person I put up with calling me Bucky, mostly because you don’t say no to a woman like Harper.

  She’s grown into a strong, determined woman over the course of the last year. Hell, getting married and having three babies at twenty-one is an impressive feat. But the thing with Harper is, you know she is living her life to the absolute fullest.

  “Bucky you look exhausted. Which is saying something considering we’re the ones with the triplets,” she says, giving me a once over.

  “It’s been a hell of a twenty-four hours.”

  “Tell me everything,” Harper says, handing me the salad bowl, and weaving to the table. “Jax, love, can you grab me some white wine?”

  Jaxon kisses Harper’s cheek before pulling open the fridge. As he uncorks the bottle, I tell them the story with Rosie. The meal she made, the men coming after her, the bathroom, the running away.

  I explain how after I found her missing from the diner I went to the motel and convinced Janice at the front desk to walk through the room with me. It was empty, stripped of anything personal that could give us a clue.

  All I know is that her first name is Rosalind. “I spent hours Googling every iteration of her name, trying to find a Facebook profile or a Google image – anything. But there is nothing on her anywhere.”

  “She just vanished?” Harper asks.

  Jax and I exchange a knowing look. No one vanishes. Rosie was taken.

  “Did you contact the Sheriff’s department again? They could put out a missing person alert.”

  “Except I don’t have a photograph, and when the cops interviewed Janice, she told them plainly that Rosie walked in of her own accord and checked out. No one was being coerced, so far as she could tell. I can’t actually prove anything.”

  “Fuck, man,” Jaxon says, shaking his head as he dishes Harper up a plate of food. “Here you go, baby.”

  We eat in silence, my story having created a somber mood. Even the babies seem to realize it, seeing as they eat their carrots in relative quiet.

  “Thank you for having me over tonight. I know you guys have a lot going on.” After taking a few bites I add, “And this food is amazing, Harper. “

  “Sounds like Rosie knew her way around a kitchen too,” Harper says, swirling the wine in her glass.

  “Way to pour salt on the poor man’s wound,” Jaxon says laughing.

  “I didn’t mean any harm by it,” Harper frowns. “It’s just, I’m sad too. I want to meet this woman who so easily wooed a mountain man like Buck. She must have been pretty special.”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” I say, running my hand over my beard. “She’s gone. She decided to leave. And the truth is, she didn’t want me to find her. If she had, she’d have left a clue, a number, a name. Anything.”

  “So you just move on?” Jaxon asks.

  “Didn’t you do the same thing after I left you, Jax, and went back home? You tried to move on?” Harper asks quietly. “Maybe Rosie had somewhere she needs to be right now, but maybe when she’s ready, she’ll return.”

  I nod, looking around their beautiful home, their happy children, the love that so clearly covers every single log laid in this cabin. “How long do I wait for her? Because the truth is, I’d wait forever if it means I’ll end up having a life like the two of you.”

  “Then don’t give up, Buck,” Jaxon says. “Get your shit together so when she returns you can be the man she needs.”

  Chapter Ten

  Planning an escape from the mob is no easy feat. Not for a healthy young man or a strong woman, and certainly not for a woman who is eight and a half months pregnant. Certainly not for a woman who has unborn children already purchased.

  After the genetic testing, it was confirmed that I have two strong, healthy, female babies growing in my belly. No complications, no red flags.

  I’m not surprised. Their father had a heart like no other man I’ve ever met.

  He was good. Kind. Gentle.

  I’m banking on his generosity right now.

  In fact, it’s all I have to go on. Maybe I’m grasping at straws; looking for something that never existed.

  But I know Buck would have fought to the death for me. When I left, I was only thinking of his safety. I didn’t know I was carrying his daughters.

  But now I do.

  And I sure as hell can’t go into labor here. If I do the babies will be taken from my arms and whisked away to a couple in Russia, who apparently are unable to conceive – not to mention the husband is a mob boss.

  They paid in cold hard cash for my children.

  Of course I haven’t seen a dime, not that I’d expect to, or even want to.

  The whole thing makes me sick.

  The fact that I’m carrying daughters only confirms my resolve to get the hell out of here before they are born.

  The moment they come into the world, that is the moment their lives are as good as over.

  This world of crime is no place for a girl.

  No place for me.

  I need to get out of here tonight.

  There are thirty-eight dollars in my pocket, all I have in the world. I can’t risk packing any clothes, any preparations for the night only put a target on my back.

  Instead, I wear two sweaters to bed, shove gloves in my winter coat. I get up in the dark of night, tiptoe to the exit, and walk through the mansion with my eyes lowered. Hoping that as I walk through the shadows no one will see me, find me. Restrain me. Sedate me.

  Hoping I can leave before I am found.

  My heart races as I fumble with the stolen keys to unlock the door in the kitchen.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” Latvia asks, coming up behind me, causing me to rattle the keys, my hands shaking, my fear knowing no bounds.

  “What is this, a prison?” I laugh nervously.

  The starushka narrows her eyes on me. She has been the closest thing to a mother my entire life. Which is saying very little. Every woman at the mansion does as they are told; there is very little gossip or chatter.

  Tonight, I hope to find sympathy with this woman who has watched my belly grow so large over the last eight months.

  “Not a prison, child. You want a prison, you can have one.”

  “I don’t want a prison, Latvia. I want to....”

  “Leave?” she supplies the word I couldn’t find.

  I nod, the kitchen is dark, but my heart spreads with warmth. I should have confided in Latvia months ago about my plans to leave.

  “I have to go, Latvia, for the babies.”

  She nods, tears in her eyes. “Go, child. Go, and never look back.”

  “I’m going back to the Idaho forest, to find the babies father. Maybe he can help –
”

  “Shhh,” Latvia says harshly. “Don’t tell me a thing, Rosalind. I don’t want to know.”

  I must look hurt because she adds. “Don’t you see? Information can be used against me. If I know nothing, it is better for you. For the babies.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, kissing her cheek. “Thank you, Latvia.”

  I steal away in the night, the moon swollen in the sky, its light guiding me.

  The light, the only thing I can cling to as I cross a highway, disappear. I leave without looking back.

  The third trucker who picks me up looks me up and down, searching for a story that I refuse to give. Latvia was right, avoid telling my story, because if I spill anything – the underground crime ring, the women for sale, the babies on the black market, it will only put a target on my back.

  “Just trying to get home,” I tell him.

  When the morning sun breaks through, I run my fingers over my eyes, determined to be positive.

  Buck will remember me. He will be happy to see me. He will keep me safe.

  Maybe – it’s a lot to ask.

  If I don’t ask him, I’m alone.

  For all these months I’ve been dreaming of this day.

  The day when I get to walk up his road, taking a left off the highway at Eagle Canyon, and a mile up is a marker for his place. A massive, carved bald eagle is perched out on the gravel road.

  I memorized the directions he gave me to his cabin the day we met and have been reciting them ever since.

  “Just pull up here,” I tell the driver when we reach Eagle Canyon. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing, honey. Now you gonna be safe walking through the woods at dawn?”

  I nod. “As safe as I’ll ever be.”

  I carefully get out of the big rig, taking a deep breath.

  This is it. Now or never.

  I blink back tears, needing this to work.

  The truth is, I have nowhere else to go.

  Chapter Eleven

  I wake up with a hard-on. Once again I spent the night dreaming of a woman that at this point I think I made up in my head. It’s been eight months since I saw her heart-shaped face, since we laughed over pancakes, and I spread her pussy apart with my cock.