by Alison Ryan
The man who came down the stairs first had followed QB out the side door. Odin walked directly to the drugged man asleep on the couch and pressed the barrel of his weapon to the man’s skull. He turned his head slightly and pulled the trigger. The explosion of skull fragments left no doubt that he’d trouble none of us again.
Gunfire erupted in the yard, followed by the voice of Odin’s ally. “I’m hit! Odin, I’m hit! Front door!”
29
Odin
In modern Olympic pentathlon, competitors shoot at mounted targets. When the sport was introduced to the games, in 1912, it consisted of five events that were to simulate a soldier, perhaps captured in battle, effecting his escape.
He’d have to fence, demonstrating his mastery of a sword, then swim a distance. Show jumping came next, and the event is unique among Olympic equestrian events in that athletes and horses are paired randomly. After that, the man must compete in a shooting event that has since been combined with a foot race run to determine a winner. In other words, the prisoner has escaped and must shoot his way out of danger while escaping pursuit.
I was an Olympian in pentathlon who missed a medal only because an injury prevented me from shooting accurately.
Despite my current handicaps, my broken wrist had long since healed. I hurried through the front door just in time to see QB reach the end of the driveway and turn up the street. He was carrying Lea in his arm like a football, sprinting to a black Escalade parked at the corner.
If he crossed the neighbor’s lawn, I’d have one shot at putting him down while he was on grass. That way, when he dropped Lea, she’d have a much better chance than on the concrete. One way or another, I wasn’t letting him get in that truck. He hit the edge of the grass as a head appeared over the hood of the SUV, on the opposite side. His driver. The shot was long, but clear. I depressed the trigger and the man fell, instantly.
QB turned around, startled by the sound of the gunshot. He was in the grass, right where I wanted hm. I advanced slowly, my weapon extended, ready to fire.
He held Lea in front of him, putting his own gun to her tiny head.
“I’ll do it, Odin. You know I will. Lower your weapon. I’ll put her down. I just want out of here. Do we have a deal?”
He looked down at her, then back at me. My head pounded. I stopped moving toward him, but my weapon remained raised.
“Last chance, Odin. Do you really want her death on your conscience? An infant?”
He was walking slowly backward as he spoke. In seconds, he’d be on the sidewalk again. I had no choice.
I inhaled deeply, aimed for his left eye, and squeezed. He collapsed in a heap, Lea rolling away to his left. I sprinted, such as I could, but Piper beat me to her baby. She dropped to her knees sobbing, clutching Lea to her chest with both arms.
I arrived at her side and dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry, Piper, I’m so sorry, I had to do it, please tell me she’s- “
Piper wiped the tears from her cheek and turned Lea over to face me.
She was definitely a Titan. She was smiling.
Epilogue
ODIN
Three Months Later…
We gathered on the beach in Vanuatu, a private beach as soft as flour, in the shadow of the home of Nolan and Camilla Weston. The sun was just thinking about setting, and a warm ocean breeze stirred the leaves of the palm trees towering above us.
Milan and Las Vegas had left scars on us, physical, emotional, and otherwise.
Nolan had suffered gunshot wounds to his chest and shoulder from QB, missing his heart by mere centimeters. Clara’s fast action had saved his life.
Raven likewise found help for Atlas just in the nick of time, and the two of them spent three weeks in that cottage near Milan driving each other crazy. His wrist would heal, but the damage to his leg meant he’d walk with a permanent limp and that he wouldn’t be running marathons anytime soon.
Atlas sat leaning against a palm tree, Lea asleep on his lap. Piper was in the kitchen, grilling swordfish we’d caught the previous afternoon.
Nolan’s father-in-law, Richard Hunt, a dear friend of my father, joined us with his wife, Emma, and young daughter, Hadley. Hadley was crawling, fascinated by Lea and by the beach, getting into everything. My younger brother, Canaan, played peek-a-boo with her.
Emma sat swapping stories with Raven, and my father watched over them, smiling and sipping a glass of wine that came from a $25,000 bottle.
We’d gathered at the Weston’s’ home to get away from everything, and finally to mourn.
We’d lost a dear friend in Nathaniel. Carlo and Randall also sacrificed everything to preserve us.
Their families had been compensated financially so that they wouldn’t need to work for several generations. It wouldn’t bring their loved ones back, but it was the least we could do to demonstrate our appreciation.
Achilles had been cremated in Las Vegas, and I brought his ashes to the South Pacific with me. We sprinkled them into the water from the side of Nolan’s boat, those of us who knew him relaying favorite memories.
As terrible as QB had made our lives, his reign of terror had also brought people together. Atlas and Piper had made it official during a small ceremony in Las Vegas once he was back home. Raven served as Piper’s maid of honor, and she caught the bouquet, despite her best efforts to avoid it. She immediately declared that she was targeting Annalise Rubidoux.
Atlas’s old friend Barrett Evers served as his best man, which stung a little bit, but my pain was eased by the fact that the billionaire threw his legal team at the mess we’d made in our quiet Las Vegas suburb, with bodies strewn in the street and all over the house and yard. In the end, no charges were filed against any of us.
Which brings me to Clara.
Once QB was gone and everything settled down, I moved her into my penthouse at Arroyo Place. I surprised her with a beagle puppy, Abner II. The original Abner died of a broken heart after his master, Callum, was killed.
I started a scholarship at MULV in Callum’s name, insuring a worthy Irish student would have his or her tuition, books, room, and board paid for each year, in perpetuity.
Sitting on that beach, holding Clara’s hand, surrounded by friends and family, I felt a peace I never thought possible.
Piper’s swordfish was exquisite, and we all ate and drank until we nearly burst, laughing all the way.
After dinner, the babies went to bed. Richard and Emerson sat in rocking chairs on the porch, enjoying Cuban cigars.
Raven, Piper, Canaan, Emma, and Atlas joined Camila and Nolan on the beach for a bonfire, roasting marshmallows and sipping cognac. The waves crashed, the sky filled with what looked like a billion stars.
Clara and I excused ourselves for a walk, strolling hand in hand down the beach as the water splashed and lapped at our feet. We stopped and looked out into the Pacific, the lights of a freighter twinkling in the distance. I stood behind her, my arms draped over her shoulders. Our feet sank slowly as the tide rose.
Just then, a shooting star zipped across the night sky, larger and brighter than any I’d ever seen.
“Make a wish!” Clara exclaimed with delight.
“What could I possibly wish for?” I asked. “I’m holding the girl of my dreams on the most beautiful beach in the world, with all my best friends and family a few hundred yards away. I just ate the most delicious meal of my life. Wishing for anything seems like pure avarice.”
“I don’t know,” she replied, looking down at her extended, bare, right ring finger. She looked back at me and I kissed her softly.
“You know, I never believed in that whole ‘wish upon a star’ thing, but maybe there’s some validity to it.”
I dropped to one knee, right there in the ocean, and reached into my pocket. I’d been waiting for the perfect moment, and I didn’t think a better one would come.
“I hope it isn’t too big,” I joked. But it was enormous. And flawless. I slipped it on her finger and looked
up into the only two things sparkling more gloriously than those stars overhead, Clara’s beautiful eyes.
“Clara, will you make me the happiest man in the world and spend the rest of your life with me?”
Her emphatic “Yes!” echoed down the beach and into the ocean, and a nearby pod of pelicans replied in song.
I stood and lifted her into the air, swinging her around until we both collapsed, laughing, onto the soft sand.
“It’s too bad beach sex sucks so bad, because I really want you right now,” she whispered into my ear, biting my earlobe playfully.
I looked up and down the beach to make sure we hadn’t been followed by anyone from our party. “It can’t be that bad,” I answered.
“Sand gets everywhere,” she said.
“And then we jump in the ocean and rinse off. And then we clog up all the jets and valves on Nolan’s hot tub with whatever sand remains,” I kissed her deeply and pulled her on top of me.
She wore nothing beneath her sundress, her curves tantalizing and tormenting me all evening long. I pulled her dress up and let it fall around us as she reached down and worked the belt on my khaki shorts. I lifted up high enough for her to slide everything off my lower half, and I peeled my shirt off and tossed it away.
My cock swelled instantly in anticipation, and she rose up just high enough to let it slide inside. She gasped as it penetrated her, settling onto me with a contented sigh. Her hips rolled in slow circles, feeling me touch everyplace inside her. Her eyes were closed, all focus driven inward. I reached up and slipped the straps of her dress down her arms, freeing her breasts. My fingers found her nipples, dancing around them, plucking at them, then disappearing.
She leaned back, palms on my thighs. She was magnificent. I thrust upward, probing deeper inside her. She responded by grinding down, rocking her hips harder, her hands moving to my bare chest. She bit her plump bottom lip, and the sight was so sexy I nearly lost it then and there.
I fought my orgasm, quelling it as hers arrived.
She gasped, “I’m so close. It’s right there. Oh, God!” As she clenched onto my cock, I rolled her nipples between my fingertips. Her moans were so sultry that I just had to kiss her perfect mouth. I pulled her face to mine, kissing her deeply as I redoubled my efforts to thrust into her. When we finished kissing she dismounted and rolled onto her back. The waves were up just past us now, and I worried that my clothes might be lost in the process.
But not enough to stop making love to my gorgeous fiancée.
I entered her again, her ankles crossing behind me. My thrusts were slow and deep, and our kisses were frantic. My arms wrapped around her, doing everything I could to get more contact between our bodies.
I’d never felt so close to anyone in my life, and her gasping, trembling orgasms let me know that she was sharing the absolute ecstasy I was feeling.
She pulled me close and spoke directly into my ear. “Come inside me, Odin. I want it so bad. I want to have your baby, I want to be the best wife to you in the history of wives, I love you so much!”
As she spoke, my thrusts became harder and deeper, my hands pushing the backs of her thighs to tilt her pelvis and grant me everything her body had to offer. She cried out as a powerful orgasm tore through her, clawing at my back.
“Oh fuck, Odin. What are you doing to my body?” she fairly screamed, and I put a hand behind her neck to lift her head above the rising tide.
I looked into her eyes and smiled.
“I love you so much, Clara. I want to fuck you all night but we’ll drown if I don’t come soon. Make me come. I want your body to make me come.”
She pulled me tight, biting my shoulder as she climaxed again. This time, her spasms were so intense that I couldn’t have kept my orgasm away for another heartbeat if I’d been offered all the riches in King Solomon’s mines.
I exploded, gasping and growling, pumping my entire soul into her. She shook mightily, and I was sure my back and shoulder were bleeding, not that I cared.
We rolled onto our sides, sitting up to avoid the relentless waves. My shorts floated by, and I snatched them just as they almost made their escape into the endless, shimmering water.
We staggered back up the beach, laughing and falling, finding dry powdery sand once more.
We walked hand in hand, arms around each other, kissing and laughing, and made it back to the fire to find just Atlas and Piper sitting there.
“Set a date yet?” Piper asked. Neither of us answered right away, so she continued. “No girl yells ‘yes’ like that unless she’s been proposed to.”
“By a Titan,” Atlas added, raising his bottle of beer in a toast to us.
I looked at Clara, my soulmate, my future wife, and I smiled. Despite what it had taken to get us here, I was grateful for the destination.
And I would make sure Clara never regretted the moment she’d chosen me.
About the Author
Alison Ryan is a romance author who lives with her husband and sons in a southern kind of heaven. She loves books about love, watching too much Bravo, and good bourbon. Not always in that order.
In her former life she has been all of the above: a Las Vegas limo driver, an insurance adjuster, an American Idol reject, a repo woman, and a graveyard front desk clerk at a dilapidated motel on the shores of the Redneck Riviera. (Panama City Beach) Her 20's were a fun, but exhausting time.
She is quite happy to be pretty boring in her 30's.
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