by KL Donn
“I want Foster,” I snap at him.
“I know you do.”
“Coming in!” I hear Matthew as the back doors begin to open.
“Stay do–” Nix begins to repeat his first instruction, but I ignore him and get to my feet shakily, darting out the back door. Someone catches me as I hit the ground, and what I see sends my heart to my toes.
“Foster!” I scream so loud, my voice cracks and my knees buckle.
Weston is leaning over the top of him with a blood-soaked cloth on his thigh and another on his forehead. He’s covered in so many bulletproof vests, I can’t tell if he’s breathing or not, but the top one looks torn apart. As if something ripped through it.
“Take a breath,” Matthew cautions in my ear as he picks me up in his arms and carries me over. “He’s a little broken.”
Matthew places me on the ground next to Foster, and he turns his head to the side to look at me. “Baby,” he mouths. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. Bruises are scattered across his face with cuts along his cheeks, nose, and forehead.
“What did you do?” I cry. I want to reach for him, but I don’t want to hurt him further.
“Ares, hold this,” I hear Weston say, but my gaze won’t leave Foster’s to see what they’re talking about.
I feel a body come up behind me, and when legs slide alongside my body, Foster glares and growls. “Cool your jets, dumbass,” Weston says, grabbing Foster's hand and placing it in mine. I immediately press it to my lips. Kissing the dirty flesh and hoping with everything I am that he’ll be alright.
“What’s wrong with him? What did he do?” I can barely breathe, let alone get the words past my lips.
“I need you to calm down first, sweetie.” Foster growls at him again. “Listen, asshole, I’m your best friend, I’m not here to poach your girl.” Witnessing that he’s lucid enough to give Weston a hard time eases some of the tightness in my chest. “Good, keep breathing.”
“I’m okay. Please just tell me.”
“Well, this dumbass friend of mine decided to play hero and used his body as a shock absorber to a pipe bomb. Lucky for him, it was a dead fucking explosive, or he’d be dead.” Weston sounds pissed, and I don’t blame him one bit.
“What were you thinking?” I don’t mean to scold Foster when he’s injured, but I can’t help it. It was so stupid and brave. “So, the injuries?”
“He caught his leg on the rusty bumper when the detonator blew as he ripped it from the van, then he smashed his face off the pavement. Real Gilligan we’ve got here.” He laughs as Foster flips him off. “He will be fine. After some stitches, an ice pack, a shit ton of morphine, and sleep.”
“Does he have a concussion?” With his unfocused eyes and dilated pupils, I would only assume yes.
“Yes. He smacked his head hard. His ears are ringing, too. The percussion of the compromised explosion was fucking strong and the reason his vest is torn to shreds.”
The sounds of sirens can be heard as an ambulance rounds a bend in the road from the south, and state troopers are hot on their heels. The rest of Foster’s team comes to stand around us, and I can only assume it’s to protect me from being taken in for questioning since this is all happening because of me.
“Feds are here, too,” Matthew growls. “Asher, you got this shit handled?”
“You’re good, man.”
“See ya,” Matthew says and begins to walk away.
“Matthew, wait!” I call after him and struggle to get to my feet.
“Don’t you get on those feet,” he snips at me. The doctor practically threatened to cut his manhood off if I was stressed for any reason.
I stay seated and wait for him to approach me. “Why are you leaving?” I ask as he crouches down in front of me. Foster tenses and his grip on my hand tightens as Matthew pushes the hair off my forehead.
“It’s just that time, Ev. My job here is done.” I know it’s ridiculous, but I thought we formed some sort of friendship in the nearly two days we were together. I must have been wrong, and I can feel the tears begin to gather. “Hey, none of that, woman.”
Foster struggles to sit up, getting angry that I’m so upset I can’t speak.
“Dude, lay the fuck down before you pop a kidney or something,” Matthews says as he pushes Foster’s shoulder back down to the ground. “I’ll be in touch soon, Ev. Make sure this idiot doesn't try to blow himself up again and is taking care of you. You ain’t getting rid of me yet.” Before I can react, Matthew leans forward and places a soft kiss on my lips.
He’s yanked back and lands on the ground before I can react and pull away. As I open my mouth to say something, he gives me a wink, pats Foster’s shoulder and walks away. Getting into a work truck, he drives past another vehicle with sirens.
“Fucking kill that son of a bitch,” Foster mutters as he lays back down with a wince, and Weston is chuckling behind me as the paramedics come forward. “Her first,” Foster orders them, and Weston and I both shout no at the same time.
Both men freeze and quickly see that it’s Foster who needs the help. He protests the entire time, but it’s quite obvious that he’s in too much pain to push anyone away. “She’s pregnant, fucking tend to her,” he keeps on growling.
Leaning over, I lay a light kiss across his lips and whisper, “I love you.” And it seems to calm him down, if only to a small extent.
“Don’t go near her,” I hear Nix say as Weston stands behind me. I don’t bother to look over because I know it’s the FBI, and they want to question me. I’m sure the state troopers, too. And maybe even some officers in Myrtle Beach since that’s where I was taken from.
“Sorry, gents, she’s off-limits. President's orders.” Asher has a cockiness to his voice that makes me smile. Everyone quiets down as they process what he says.
“Listen–” someone starts to say, but they’re cut off by Weston.
“No. You listen. The woman was kidnapped, threatened to be blown to bits, and she’s pregnant. A pregnancy that is already high-risk. She will record a statement after she’s been cared for and the doctor approves. If you have questions you need asked fucking send them to Asher, and we’ll get to you when she’s ready, and not a goddamned minute before. Don’t like it, well, Apollo runs the DOJ. He’ll take your fucking credentials.”
“Apollo?” one man asks, and I can hear the awe mixed with fear in his tone.
I use it to my advantage. “I can call Ares back if you like, too.” I gaze over at the group of FBI agents and see two of them pale at the mention of Matthew's nickname from the unit he told me he had been in with Asher. I have no idea who they were or what they did beyond that, but if they were named after Greek gods, then it must have been something badass. Similar to Foster’s team.
“We’ll call to check in tomorrow,” one of the men says as they walk away towards a CSI unit and begin to look over the scene taking up and closing off the highway.
“That was awesome,” I whisper to Foster as the paramedics roll his body to put a backboard under him. He winces as they set him back down; but otherwise, he doesn’t complain. Soon enough, he’s lifted onto a gurney and strolled towards an ambulance.
Weston picks me up and follows. “I can walk, you know,” I say.
“You could, and then Foster could rig my bed to send me through a roof or something, and it does not sound as fun as you'd think.” Sounds like he’s speaking from experience.
“Is there a story there?” I grin at the picture entering my mind, and I can only imagine what happened.
“Something like that,” he responds but doesn’t expand.
Once we’re in the ambulance, we leave quickly, and everything that follows happens in a rush. Foster is taken to a back room to be examined, and I’m wheeled to the maternity ward so they can run a battery of tests that have me wincing every other minute.
They eventually give me something to help me sleep because I’m overtired and restless and worrying about Foster isn’t helping
my blood pressure. Nobody is telling me anything, and that only increases the apprehension I’m experiencing.
I need to know Foster's condition. It doesn’t take long for the effects of whatever medication they gave me to kick in, and I’m left to stew in the unease as I enter a restless sleep.
20
Foster
Getting blown up hurts.
If not for the drugs they pumped into my system and the vertigo to follow, I’d be up with Everett, holding her while she rests, instead of down here staring at a ceiling that keeps fucking spinning. I’m told she’s fine and resting, but I can’t see her, so I have no clue if they’re lying. The goddamned doctors won’t allow Weston, Nix, or Theo to check on her either because they aren’t family or the baby’s father.
A fucking baby.
Christ.
I can’t believe that happened so quickly.
I’m not disappointed in the least. She’s carrying a huge piece of me within her body. Growing a life inside of her. I’ve never thought of it as beautiful before. But now, it’s a whole new story.
“I can’t believe how fucking stupid I was.”
“No shit, sherlock,” Weston mutters from the chair in the corner that he’s been occupying since they took Everett out of his arms.
“Why the fuck would you guys let me do that?” They didn’t. And I sure didn’t give them a choice. I couldn’t be sure that there weren’t other bombs attached to Van, though, and Ev didn’t have time for me to check.
Van and his friend, I don’t even know his name, were no explosives geniuses because that pipe bomb should have blown me to bits. Instead, the trigger blew through the pipe, and everything else was dead inside.
“Let you?” West laughs. “You dumbass. You didn’t give anyone a fucking choice. Ryder is gonna kick your ass, by the way.”
“Quit fucking calling me a dumbass.” I understand that he’s pissed at me. I was reckless and stupid. I could have killed us all, but I had to do something, and it was all I could think of at the time.
“Don’t be dumb then,” he points out reasonably.
“Fine. Now, help me get the fuck up to my woman.”
Before he can answer, my phone chimes with the theme from Jaws, and I know exactly who it is. “Cheatasaurus Rex?” West laughs so hard he can barely stand to bring the device to me.
“Hey, whatever fits, right?” I groan as I sit up to read her text.
Cheatasaurus Rex: Heard you were hurt today? Do you need someone to take care of you?
What the fuck? “How the hell does she know?”
“The news?” West suggests.
Foster: Nope. Got a good woman to do it for me.
I won’t pull any punches. Everett is everything Tamara could never be, and even though I was pissed about how shit went down, I’m glad it played out that way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been led to Evie.
Cheatasaurus Rex: I miss you baby. We were so good together.
Oh, fuck no.
Foster: No. You were good in bed with other men.
I toss the phone back to Weston. I have no desire to give her any more of my time or energy. “Do what you like with her. She’ll keep texting. Now, get me up to my woman.”
“Alrighty then.” Stuffing the phone in his pocket, it goes off multiple times, and I’m willing to bet that when he opens it, he’s going to be greeted by nudes. “I wouldn’t open those if I were you.” I laugh because I know he will, and he’ll be a dick about it.
“Nudes?” He laughs as he puts a shoulder under my arm and hauls me to my feet.
“Yeah. She used to do it when I was overseas. Didn’t really appeal to me then and even less so now.” I groan when I take that first step, and my leg throbs.
“You and Tac are gonna have matching war wounds,” he jokes.
Not far from the truth. “Shut it.” We slowly make our way up to the maternity ward. Three nurses and a doctor try to stop me, but I keep on moving, and Weston doesn’t stop.
“You can’t go in there.” One maternity nurse stands in our way.
“Yes, I can,” I grit out, ready to drop. “Everett Gaines is in there, and I’m the father of her baby. You can move, or I can go through you.”
She looks me up and down with a critical eye and a smirk. Obviously knowing I would be a heap on the floor if not for West holding me up.
“What’s your name?” she asks instead and opens a tablet with patient charts in it.
“Foster Halsey.”
It’s a full minute later that she nods and lets us pass with a warning for Weston to leave immediately, and that if I keel over while I’m in there, I’m on my own.
As soon as I see Evie asleep in the bed, attached to some wires on her chest and an IV in her hand, my worry amplifies. No one told me she was hooked up to anything.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“She was dehydrated, overly stressed, and exhausted when she arrived. We’re just keeping an eye on her vitals, blood pressure, and giving her warm saline. Nothing serious and quite common in first-time moms.” The woman leaves after that and before I can ask more questions.
“Jesus Christ, Everett,” I say. Not upset but anxious about how she’s been feeling.
“Shut up and get in the damn bed,” West grumbles.
As soon as I’m at her side, she curls into me, and I can feel my exhaustion blanket over me like a dense cloud. “I got you now, baby,” I whisper into her hair, kissing along her forehead, and taking a deep breath of relief that she’s safe and in my arms now.
Everett
It’s been said that sleep and rest can heal all wounds.
Whoever came up with that was wrong. They couldn’t have experienced being cradled in the arms of the man who would do anything to keep you safe.
That’s precisely what Foster is for me. My safety, my protector, my healer. I never imagined that this was how things could be for us.
I didn’t think I’d ever be able to trust another person again. So many dark secrets have been revealed, and after cheating death, again, I find that none of it matters so long as I have Foster and this surprise baby coming our way.
Maybe it’s not happening how I imagined as a little girl, but now that I have it in my grasp, I’ll never let either of them go again.
“Good morning,” Foster whispers into my ear as he kisses my neck. “How are you feeling?”
I’m the one who should be asking him that question. “You blew yourself up for me.” I scold him instead.
“Not quite.” He shrugs.
“You were going to,” I accuse, and the tears I thought had dissipated rush back with a vengeance.
“Baby,” he groans and pulls me back into his arms. “Calm down, or they’re going to kick me out of here.” His hand rubs up and down my spine. “I’m sorry, you know.”
“About what?” I sniffle.
He exhales a deep breath. “Thinking that I was hurting you by keeping you. The last thing I ever wanted to do was bring you pain. When Ryder told me how sick you were while we were gone, I couldn’t bring myself to force you into a life that possibly wasn’t for you.”
I can hear the agony in his tone. I was angry; I was sad. Mostly, I was hurt. But learning the reasoning behind his actions is actually kind of sweet if not a little bit dumb.
“Just don’t do it again. Okay?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“Knock, knock.” A woman opens the door and pokes her head in. “Oh good, you’re awake. You have a visitor, young lady.”
“Oh?” Foster helps me sit up and winces but doesn’t stop at his discomfort until I’m settled. “You should probably go back to your room, see your doctor?” The scowl on his face tells me it was a useless suggestion because he’s not about to leave my side.
“Everett?” Standing in the doorway is my exhausted and worrisome looking mother. She appears to have aged ten years since the last time I saw her. Lord, it feels like forever ago.
“Hi, Mom,”
I greet her. She’s uncertain as she continues to stand and watch Foster and me. I’m nervous, too, so I have no idea what to do here.
Thankfully, Foster takes the lead. “Come on in, Jessica.” He waves her over, and I get the feeling he might know something I don’t.
“Thank you, Mr. Halsey. Your friend Weston is outside and demanding you go back to your room for a few minutes.” Even though she’s talking to him, her eyes never leave me.
“Call me Foster,” he tells her, and she moves her head in agreement. “I’ll be back.” He leans forward to kiss me. “Hear her out. I promise you won’t regret it.” I nod. Because if he trusts her enough to leave the room, then she’s definitely not as dangerous as all the crazy scenarios that ran through my mind when we discovered she and I had no past.
As he limps his way out, I see Weston standing in the doorway when Foster opens it with a scowl on his face. Before it’s closed, I hear them bickering and laugh a little. They’re sometimes like an old married couple.
“Friends, huh?” Mom laughs as she stands at the end of my bed.
I pat the empty space beside me. “Come sit, Mom. Please.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Tears stream down her cheeks as she rushes over and wraps her arms gently around me. “I’m so sorry you’ve been hurt over my choices. So, so, sorry.” I hug her back, and for a while, we just hold each other. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m out of tears or because I’ve already forgiven her, but I’m able to pull away with dry eyes.
“You don’t have to be sorry. I know that whatever you did it was because you thought it was the right decision. None of this is your fault.”
“Oh, how I wish that were true. That it was so black and white.” She sits on the bed and holds my hand in both of hers as she begins to explain how we came to be at this point.
“Your father, your biological one, his name was Kevin Stapleton. We met when I was graduating college, and he’d been in the CIA for a few years already. Kevin was such a good man. He really believed in the work he was doing.” I can feel her love for him in the way she says his name.