by L. M. Reign
She throws her head back, expelling a loud laugh. “I’m eating way too much. You just want me to blow up, so everyone knows that I’m pregnant by you, don’t you?”
I lean back and scoff at the idea, knowing she sees right through me.
“My butt is already enormous,” she giggles. “And the girls are bigger, too. My stomach will follow. Don’t worry.”
“I happen to like the way the girls look in that top,” I tell her, peeking down her shirt. “And your ass,” I grip a handful, “has always been juicy. It’s just juicier.”
“Oh my god,” she groans, burying her face in her hands. “Stop talking. Just let me have this. I get bigger boobs, a plump ass, and a flat stomach for a while.”
“Fine.” I concede with a smirk. “Just don’t wear yourself out. I’ve got plans for you later.”
“Oh yeah? What are you doing to me later?”
“Kissin’ you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. There may be some strokin’ and fondlin’. There will definitely be some lickin’. I’m goin’ to make love to you and you are goin’ to fall asleep with a reminder,” I rub a slow circle on her stomach, “of who put this in you.”
“Oh my god,” she bites her lip. “Can we go now?”
She shifts, kicking the covers off to reveal her tight ass clad in black lace, and I can’t help the redirection of blood flow that circulates south. Like a siren, I feel the pull she has on me; calling me towards her.
Slipping in behind her, I palm her ass and squeeze. She mumbles incoherently and shimmies against me, planting herself against my cock.
“You’re home,” she says sleepily.
“I’m home, baby,” I deliver a hard smack against her ass.
Her eyes spring open and she tosses me a dirty look over her shoulder.
“What? What’s wrong, baby?”
“I... think you broke my water.”
_____________________
Milo
The sharp trill of my phone on the nightstand jolts me from my drunken stupor and I stumble to answer it.
“What?” I snap.
“Your sister is in labor, Godfather. Drag yourself from the bottom of whatever fuckin’ bottle you’ve drowned yourself in and get your ass here,” Cole snaps before hanging up.
Fucker.
The bottle of Jim Beam is a better friend to me than he is at this point.
Instead of feeling excited that I’m about to be an uncle, I’m angry. Angry at Kieran, the Syndicate, the fucking Italians, and at myself.
She should be here.
I should’ve known.
Dragging myself from my bed, I scrunch my nose at the scent, wholly ashamed that it’s coming from me.
Taking a quick shower, I make myself presentable before catching a glimpse in the mirror. The man looking back at me is unshaven, unkempt, and unhappy. The man looking back me is broken.
Ever since it was discovered that my uncle - my own blood - is the thief of my happiness, I’ve been broken. With the brokenness comes the thoughts, constantly playing on loop.
Would we have gotten married?
Would it be us having a baby first instead of Mila?
How did I not know?
How did I not fucking know?
Anger boils inside me and before I recognize my movement, I’ve shattered the mirror, making it reflect how I feel inside.
Killing Kieran wasn’t enough.
Dismantling an empire wasn’t enough.
I need more.
I want blood.
_____________________
Pulling up, I park next to Ness and Brass who are standing at the sidewalk, arguing by the looks of her flailing arms.
“You can’t let the past stop you from going inside for Mila and Cole. What happened to you won’t happen to them.”
“I’m not fuckin’ goin’ in there!” He snarled at her. I step out, balling my fist. Ness gives me a dejected smile before shaking her head sadly. Ignoring them and their bullshit, I make my way inside.
The maternity ward was packed with a bunch of people. A mix of Syndicate and former bikers filled every seat. Even the wall space was taken.
Everyone was wearing some expression of either excitement or exhaustion. Especially Raife and Liza. They’ve been picking up where we’ve been slacking.
Where I’ve been slacking.
I greet those that I pass; Gibbs, Fiona, and Chino before heading towards Mila’s room. I hear her before I see her, lightly knocking. When no one answers, I open, instantly cringing at the sight. Her tattooed back is exposed while she leans over a pillow towards Cole who’s clutching her hands.
Dad, Brooke, and Bloom are huddled together at the far end of the wall, throwing those lovingly worried expressions her way.
Shutting the door, I watch as a long needle is prepared to penetrate her spine and move to join dad.
“Son,” he pulls me into a hug.
“Grandpa.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. His brows furrow in frustration the second the needle goes into her back.
“Oh my god,” Mila releases a loud groan tapering off into a whimper.
“Holy shit,” I hear Rook say, stepping into the room followed by Ness, Diesel, and Rig.
“Shut up,” Diesel smacks his head while Cole helps Mila lay back. Bloom joins them, rubbing Mila’s shoulders.
“We’re going to step outside. Anyone want anything?” Brooke asks, taking orders and walking out with dad on her heels.
Not wanting to stay behind, I step forward towards the bed with a plan to let her know I’m here, then ducking out into the waiting room.
“Mi,” I greet her, pressing a kiss to her head.
“Hey.” I receive a glare from a very pissed-off Mila. “Remind me,” she huffs, wincing as she adjusts her position, “to never let this one anywhere near me,” she points to a smiling Cole.
“How did this even happen?” Ness huffs. “Your due date is two weeks away!”
She sets a bag on the bed. “Here’s the bag you forgot,” she glares at Cole. “It was literally right there at the door, idiot.”
He shrugs and takes Mila’s hand, linking their fingers. “All it took was a spank on the ass and boom. Water. Works. We need a new mattress,” he grimaces, dodging a wayward slap from Mila.
“Cole!’ Bloom says, appalled.
“Oooh,” Ness purrs. “Having some fun before the baby?”
“No,” Mila snarls. “No fucking fun here. Can someone get my doctor? I need to go over the plan again.”
“Baby, we’ve gone over this. It’s fine,” Cole tries to placate her.
“Get. The. Doctor.” She seethes in pain.
I am so glad I’m not a woman.
“I’ll get her,” Cole starts to stand up.
“Stay,” she orders, softening her tone at the terse look Cole gives her. “Please?”
Watching my badass sister go soft when around her childhood sweetheart is almost comical if you didn’t know their history. They deserve this happiness, and I need to fucking get over myself.
The best way to do that is to get in someone.
“Who knew I’d get Mila Rogers pregnant with my baby?” He presses a kiss to her forehead, rubbing a hand on her belly.
“Milo, can you get my doctor?”
Taking advantage of the opportunity, I duck out, heading down the hall to the front desk.
“Hey,” I tap the counter, getting the attention of a cute nurse.
She’ll do.
She gives me a sweet smile and introduces herself as Cynthia. I give her Mila’s name and request that her doctor visit her as soon as possible.
“That’ll be Dr. Ortega. Let me page her.” Cynthia starts typing something in the computer and I lose focus when a woman rounds the corner, her back to me.
Navy scrubs cling to her voluptuous frame, accentuating her tight ass. Dark brown hair falls down her back in little waves, curling up at the ends.
She�
��s speaking to a group of people wearing a lighter shade of scrubs while diligently taking notes; hanging onto her every word.
“Just remember, interns - we aren’t Gods. We use science and medicine. While there is nothing wrong with having faith, we need the tangibility of medicine. And we do our best to save our patients. We don’t get to mess that up.
What they teach you in med school is that there are many ways to heal, but they don’t tell you that there are many ways to harm.”
“Uh... Dom,” Cynthia clears her throat.
“One sec,” the soft lilt of her voice halts Cynthia before dismissing the group to their assignments. “I got your page. What’s up?”
Cynthia nods at me and deep, rich brown eyes are trained on mine. I scour her face, focusing on the slight curve of her nose and her plush pink lips. They curve into a smile and begin moving, but I don’t hear a sound over the blood roaring in my ears.
No. She’ll do.
“Dominik Ortega,” she offers her hand.
“Milo Rogers,” I take it, giving her a slight shake. Her hands are soft and warm.
What other parts of her are soft and warm?
“You must be Mila’s twin brother. She’s told me so much about you, but I never believed her. I like your tattoo,” she nods at my retreating hand.
“Oh, thanks. Uh... Mila’s requested you. Wants to go over the plan. How many times has she done this tonight?”
“Just three. But this is normal for first-time moms. Let’s head that way.” She walks in front of me, and I can’t stop marveling at the sway of her hips as we make it to the room. I smack Chino on the head when I catch him checking her out.
Back off.
“Hi Mila,” she says cheerily, stepping inside. I hear the squelch of the sanitizer dispenser and watch as she begins to assuage my sister’s concerns.
My sister is in labor.
I’m going to be an uncle.
And all I can think about is how to get this beauty under me.
Author’s Note
Hi! Thank you for reading Ace! I hope you enjoyed Mila and Cole’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider leaving a review! I’d love to hear what you thought!
X,
L.M.
**Keep reading for a Sneak Peek of Dom in Milo’s story**
Sneak Peek
Milo
Syns
of
Desert Angels MC
Chapter 1
Six Months Later
Dom
Rounding the corner, I slap my hand on the counter, getting Cyn’s attention. “Page Bash for me? Tell him he’s needed in Peds. Thank you!” I expel in a rush, my footsteps echoing off the dotted linoleum.
“You got it!” Her voice echoes down the hall. I give her a hasty wave, breaking into a sprint towards my patient.
Our patient.
Sebastian and I met when we first entered as interns, making rookie mistakes during our first year. Now, we’re in our fourth year of residency here at Maricopa Gen and fast tracked for one of the most competitive pediatric fellowships in the world. The only problem is that the fellowship program is extremely selective, and we both want in.
A little healthy competition.
Except, I come from a long line of Cubans. Extremely competitive ones, too. All thanks to my abuelita.
“Lupita, listen,” abuelita cupped my bruised face. “Papito and I didn’t defect from Cuba, so you could squander your potential with Los Santos.” The way she says their name with such disgust has me cringing under the weight of her disappointment.
“Lo siento, abuelita.” I apologized, hating the disappointment in her gaze.
“Oh, mija,” she pulls me to her. “Papito and I love you. We want better for you. Don’t follow Hector. You haven’t been initiated, have you?”
I shake my head quickly, thankful that I haven’t. I only received these bruises in a scuffle that I happened to be thrown in the middle of because of Hector.
All because he had to prove his loyalty to Los Santos by tagging another gang’s turf with their sign.
“Good. Papito is talking to Hector now. Mija, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’re bailing him out this time. Get your things,” she gives my shoulder a light squeeze. “We’re going home.”
I followed abuelita that night and left my brother behind. Hector was sent to juvie since it wasn’t his first offense, and I haven’t heard from him since.
Not for the lack of trying. All my letters came back returned, and I knew it was because he blamed me for getting busted.
If I hadn’t called the police that night, he would’ve died.
I repeat that to myself, justifying my decision to save my brother rather than let those scumbags continue to hurt him.
Gripping the doorjamb, I swing myself into the room, immediately removing my stethoscope to check Jack’s heartbeat.
His mother, Janet, is wailing loudly from the corner, fighting aggressively against her husband’s hold. The desperation to get to her little boy is painfully etched across her face.
“Let them do their job,” he kept repeating.
Nurses are checking his stats, calling out various systemic numbers while I shove between them. Lifting Jack’s shirt, I assess his surgical wound and breathe a sigh of relief when there’s no visible blood.
He was the lucky recipient of a heart transplant not even forty-eight hours ago after being on the donor’s list for years. I was the one who put it in him, the one who teared up when it started pinkening after he was removed from bypass, and I will be the one to make damn sure his body doesn’t reject it.
Moving my stethoscope across his seven-year-old chest, I hear a slight gurgle over the beat. Keeping my face stoic, I calmly tell the nurses to book an OR and prep him for surgery.
“And page Essie Bluth.” I quickly tell them the name of my attending before they wheel Jack away.
Janet’s wails become unbearable after she hears me, and I turn my attention to her. “Mrs. Galinksy,” I say soothingly, clutching my stethoscope in my hands. “I’ve been with you on this journey since Jack was five an-”
“Dom!” Bash interrupts, stopping short of the door, watching while Jack is wheeled out.
“Dr. Pino,” I address him professionally. “Please go with Jack. I’ll be there in a second.”
Never one to miss a chance at surgery, Bash gives me a nod and rushes off after them. I take advantage of the small interruption to compose myself for what I’m about to say next.
“Janet,” I start again. “I’ve been with you on this journey for a long time. I know what it’s like when everything feels like it’s falling apart, and you need someone to pull it together. Let me be the one that pulls it together this time, okay?”
Janet jerks her head rapidly, burying her face in Gage’s chest. He strokes his wife’s head, releasing the emotions he’s been locking inside to be strong for her.
“Go save him. Bring our son back,” he sniffs, his eyes glossing over.
I don’t spare a second glance back, breaking into a sprint to prep for surgery. Exchanging my coat for my dinosaur scrub cap, a gift from abuelita, I find Jack’s OR and begin sterilizing myself. The double doors fly open and Essie walks in holding Jack’s chart.
“What is it?” She questions, cocking her hip. Her burgundy scrubs are wrinkled indicating she was paged while napping.
“Atrial septal defect. Right quadrant. I could hear the blood gushing over the beat. He was thready when I had them page you.”
“Good call, Dom. His levels have stabilized,” she looks at the monitors through the glass enclosure. “Go ahead with Bash, I’ll scrub in and supervise.”
Entering the OR, I extend my arms for the scrub nurse to sheathe me in the papery garb before slipping my hands in gloves. The sound they make when slapping against my wrist is euphoric.
I love surgery, but I love saving lives even more.
“He’s not dead,” Bash tells me bluntly, hold
ing a blue cloth over his hands to avoid contamination.
“Anyone ever tell you that you need to work on your bedside manner?”
“Only every patient before I save their lives.” Bash wasn’t known for beating around the bush.
“Dr. Pino,” Essie’s voice has Bash’s spine straightening. “I expect more professionalism from you. Dr. Ortega will be performing this surgery since she caught the defect in time.”
“Yes, Dr. Bluth,” Bash says sweetly, shooting daggers at me over the rim of his mask. I smile, making sure it reached my eyes.
Got to be faster than that.
“Can we get some music?” Essie asks Jana, our anesthesiologist.
“What would you like to listen to, Dr. Bluth?” She holds up her phone.
“Dr. Ortega,” Essie questions. “What would you like to listen to?”
“Anything by Yiruma will work.” I close my eyes as the first strings of a piano fill the room before extending my hand. “Scalpel.”
Acknowledgement
First and foremost, thank you to my husband for being supportive of my writing. For taking care of things while I’m hiding under a rock for days, for bringing me coffee and food, and for being the best parts of Cole, Brass, Rook, and every other character I create. Most of all, thank you for dealing with my weird out loud conversations with myself.
Betas, Betas, Betas. Thank you so much for your support and faith in this story and my ability, especially when I fell into those pits of doubt, and for making sure that Cole and Mila got the love story they deserved.
Miranda and Maegon – I never knew such devoted Betas existed. I truly lucked out having you two on my team. I appreciate how thorough you were and had so much fun reading your commentary.
To all the bloggers who have helped me on this journey, the followers on my Instagram, and those who have helped promote my book, thank you for helping me reach more readers than I have ever imagined.
And to you, my readers. It’s surreal to imagine anyone reading my stories. The love you have shown me is staggering and I cannot thank you enough for your support.