Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me)

by Masters, Kallypso

  In this scene, the callous Frenchman Luc was rummaging in the leather handbag being used as a pillow on the train by the sleeping Meg Ryan character. Her hair was too short. Too blond. Not long, lush, and dark like Angelina’s. But when the sleeping woman reached out and drew the Frenchman into a kiss, Marc felt his balls tighten as he remembered the feel of Angelina’s lips against his. He took another sip of wine to banish that memory.

  The actor deepened the kiss. No amount of wine would help Marc forget kissing Angelina. He remembered that first kiss when she, too, slept. Well, sleep wasn’t the right word. Angelina had tried to kiss him while in subspace the first night he met her, but he withdrew from her even then. Why couldn’t he stop pulling away?

  As he reached to press the remote’s power button, the kiss ended, and Meg Ryan’s character rolled over, her back to the Frenchman, leaving him as confounded as Marc felt so many times while trying to process what Angelina did to him emotionally. The man on the screen had been run over by a slip of a girl who had barreled into his life and changed everything. Forever.

  Just as Angelina had done in Marc’s life.

  Not wanting to see anything more, he turned off the television. A burning ache targeted his heart in a way he’d never experienced before, a pain worse than having cement rebar pierce his lung in Fallujah. Ignoring the wineglass, he drained the remaining wine straight from the bottle. He wanted the pain to go away. He wanted to be numb again.

  Returning to the kitchen, he pulled another bottle from the rack but didn’t bother chilling it this time. Just before popping the cork, he pushed the bottle away and went into the living room to the cocktail cart to pour an amaretto neat.

  Carrying the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, he climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Who the fuck was he kidding? He couldn’t sleep in that bed tonight without Angelina. Perhaps never again.

  Marc crossed the room and opened the door to the tower. He and Angelina hadn’t played in here since Christmas night. He flipped on the light switch and surveyed the pristine equipment. They preferred to play in the bedroom. The living room. The kitchen. The club.

  Dio, he realized the playroom might be the place least touched by Angelina’s memory. Good. He stripped, pulled the comforter back, and crawled in between the sheets.

  Escape. Sleep.

  Perchance to dream.

  Dear God, don’t let her be waiting for him in his dreams. The thought of waking to find he’d only dreamt about her would be more than he could take right now.

  The walls were closing in around him.

  Trapped.

  He shut his eyelids, only to be accosted immediately by his sweet angel’s smiling face. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling a moment. There would be no escape in sleep tonight. He reached to pick up his mystery, hoping Guido Guerrieri could distract him before he realized the latest Carofiglio novel was on the nightstand in their bedroom. His bedroom. Tossing the comforter back, he went down to retrieve it, keeping his gaze away from the lonely bed, and returned to the playroom bed. He opened the book to Chapter Two. After rereading the same paragraph three times, he resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to escape inside these pages as he usually did. This would be one very long, sleepless night.

  The first of many if he didn’t go after Angelina.

  But what had changed? He certainly hadn’t. Maybe she was right, and he should let her go.

  The stabbing pain to his chest led to a burning in his eyes. He was just drunk enough to cry. But no tears came. Dio, he’d fucked up everything.

  An indeterminate number of hours later, he awoke with a jolt. He glanced at his Breitling. Oh-two-forty. Marc picked up his cell and hit Angelina’s number in recent activity.

  Merda. He ended the call before it was too late. Calling her in the dark of night wouldn’t endear him to her.

  He rolled over onto his side. No adventure treks scheduled at his outfitter store this week, but the call of the mountains was stronger than it had been in a long time. He set about planning an escape to the mountains first thing in the morning. He’d find peace there. Angelina hadn’t been on any long treks with him, although she’d gone with him on a couple of camping trips before the weather set in for the winter. He knew the wilderness still frightened her.

  She accused in her note that he hadn’t let her inside his heart, but hadn’t he shared his beloved mountains with her? The mountains were as close to him as any lover had ever been. How could she say he hadn’t included her in his personal life?

  Didn’t she know he loved her as much as he did his mountains?

  So why was he rotting away in this mansion in the city? Because Gramps had gifted him with this mausoleum after Marc had been discharged from the Navy. Marc didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings.

  At least with Angelina it had begun to feel more like a home.

  Merda, he would feel at home anywhere on earth as long as she was beside him.

  I need you, mio angelo.

  He clenched his fist. No. He didn’t need anyone.

  Gino’s voice haunted his thoughts. Marc translated from the Italian. Stop crying. They won’t keep you if you’re a baby. Don’t let them see you’re weak.

  When had Gino spoken those words? Once again, he sounded like a kid in Marc’s mind. Marc closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about Gino right now. He’d gotten closure when he’d talked with Adam and even more at Adam’s wedding when he’d met Staff Sergeant Anderson, the Marine whose life Gino had saved in Afghanistan.

  He’d forgiven Gino for what he’d done with Melissa, hadn’t he? In reality, nothing could be done about the way Gino had left things between them before being killed in combat. They’d burned that bridge.

  Marc rolled over and closed his eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to resolve issues with Angelina, but that would mean going to her and begging her to take him back. He had no clue what he was going to do without her, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t go crawling to her like some big-ass baby asking for another chance. She had to want to come back on her own.

  Don’t let them see you’re weak.

  If she couldn’t accept him the way he was, they had no future together.

  Besides, he’d been left behind before and survived.

  Dio, but those other women hadn’t battered down his defenses the way Angelina had. He should have stuck to his guns that night at her house. Why did he lower his guard and let her walk away with his heart?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Adam helped Karla undress and wrap the flimsy paper gown around her body, which was growing bigger and more beautiful every day. If someone had told him even six months ago he’d be looking forward to becoming a father within a year—and have the hots for a very pregnant wife—he’d have called them drunk or fucking deranged. He’d given up on that dream long ago with Joni.

  Until this slip of a girl he helped on to the gyno table came crashing into his life. She awakened long-dormant feelings—and dreams—like that of becoming a father to a tiny baby.

  “I’m so nervous.”

  Me, too, hon.

  He needed to be strong for her, though. “Nothing to be nervous about, Kitten. Doctor Palmer said a few days ago everything’s going well. All the labs are good, heartbeat’s strong. She said it’s good that you can feel the baby moving around now.”

  “Yeah, but why do you think she was so insistent on us doing the ultrasound so quickly when before she’d been okay with us not even having one—? Oh!” Karla grabbed her belly.

  Adam leaned closer but had no fucking clue what to do to help. “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled at him. “Relax. I just felt the baby move. Felt like butterflies, or my ka-thunk moments.”

  Adam shook his head. Karla and her ka-thunks. He still had no idea what she was talking about but guessed it either made her want to puke or gave her the feeling she’d lost her stomach as if driving too fast over country roads.

&nb
sp; The door opened, and Doctor Palmer entered. She wore a white lab coat and four-inch heels. How the woman could walk in those things all day confounded him.

  “How are we doing?”

  Karla faced her and smiled. “Fine. A little nervous.” She bit her lower lip but added hastily, “Excited, though!”

  “You should be. Seeing your baby on the monitor for the first time, well, the only moment better is when I place the baby on your chest at the delivery. I can even give you some first photos today for your baby’s album. Now, no guarantees we’ll get the baby at the right angle today, but if we do, are you still wanting to keep the sex of the baby secret?”

  Karla turned to Adam and smiled. They’d already talked about this. He nodded and she faced the obstetrician. “Absolutely. We want to be surprised. Our nursery won’t be done in traditional colors anyway, and we like the mystery of not knowing.”

  “Not a problem. I doubt you’ll be able to tell without some training at reading these things anyway. Sure you wouldn’t prefer the 3D scan? Lots of parents love having them as a keepsake.”

  Karla shook her head and Adam agreed. “We don’t want to know the sex and the only reason we’re even doing this scan is because you insisted.” Karla bit her lip. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  As the doctor lifted the gown and squirted lube all over her belly, she began to explain why they were here. “You measured a little bigger than anticipated the other day. Could be any number of things—an error in the conception date, unusual growth, multiples. I just want to have a look, take some measurements, and find out why.”

  Adam’s hand began to shake at the rapid-fire, confusing information coming at them. He took Karla’s hand in his to reassure her, but her returning squeeze helped him a little, too. His heart pounded so loudly he doubted he’d be able to hear their baby’s heartbeat over the racket.

  They’d originally planned not to have a sonogram because of the possible risks to the baby, but when Doctor Palmer insisted based on Karla’s prenatal checkup a few days ago, they’d been worrying ever since. Despite her trying to keep them calm, he was convinced something was wrong.

  The pregnancy book he and Karla read from every night said the baby had reached the age of viability, although Adam didn’t know how anything that tiny could survive if born this prematurely. Given their genetic history—between Adam’s first child being stillborn and Karla’s mom having had two miscarriages—he and Karla couldn’t avoid the risk now.

  From the first time he’d heard the swoosh-swoosh of their baby’s heartbeat in January, this kid had a grip on his heart tighter than any Shibari tie he could rig. If anything happened…

  Adam stared at the screen on the monitor. Soon they would see their baby for the first time—God, let everything be okay. Not that they’d terminate if the baby was less than perfect. They’d decided that already, too. But they prayed their baby would have no added hurdles. Life was fucking hard enough as it was.

  He bent down to kiss Karla and felt the trembling in her lips. The familiar swooshing of the heartbeat filled his ears, and both turned in unison to the monitor.

  What looked like a baby’s head came on the monitor. Adam swallowed hard.

  “Breathe, Sir,” she whispered.

  “I will if you will.”

  They watched in silent wonder a moment as the doctor took measurements and photos.

  “Look, Adam! The baby’s sucking its thumb! Isn’t that right, Doctor Palmer?”

  When the doctor didn’t answer, Adam shifted his gaze and the worried expression on her face caused him to forget to breathe again. She peered closer at the screen and slid the wand a few inches across Karla’s abdomen.

  Adam gripped Karla’s hand tighter, but a quick glance at her showed Karla wasn’t aware there might be a problem. She was enthralled with the fascinating miracle they were watching, and he turned back to the monitor. The baby’s head had flipped completely around, surprising him. He relaxed a little. That kind of rapid movement had to be a good sign.

  “Karla and Adam, this certainly isn’t what I expected given that I’ve seen you twice already.”

  Karla’s hand squeezed his in a death grip, and he leaned down to whisper, “I’ve got you.” She turned to him with a pleading expression on her face, as if he could control anything. So fucking helpless. What was wrong with their baby?

  “I said I wouldn’t tell you the sex, but I do have to tell you that you’re having multiples.”

  “Mul—” Adam stopped to clear his throat. “Multiple whats?” he whispered hoarsely.

  The doctor smiled and turned to them. “Babies. You’re having twins!”

  Holy fuck. Adam was certain the expression of terror on Karla’s face was mirrored on his own. He turned back to the monitor a half-second after Karla did, but neither relaxed his or her hold on each other’s hands.

  “Here’s Baby One’s face.” Sure enough, he could make out eyes and a tiny fist pressed against what must be the baby’s mouth. “That’s the one sucking its thumb.”

  Holy shit. How did a baby know how to do that already?

  Tears blurred his vision and he blinked rapidly until he could see again.

  “I’ll snap a photo for the baby albums. You might need to get another book for Baby Two if you already started one.”

  Two babies.

  Hell, Karla had been recording her pregnancy journey in the baby’s book since the honeymoon. Now she’d need two books. Two cribs. Two car seats. Two strollers—no, he’d seen tandem ones of those. Adam couldn’t find words to string together in a coherent thought to take in this news.

  Doctor Palmer maneuvered the wand through the lube slathered across Karla’s belly. “Do twins run in either of your families?” Before either could answer, she added, “Oh, here’s Baby Montague Two.”

  Adam couldn’t make out anything. Damned screen was blurry again. “It’s pronounced Mon-tag.”

  “Oh, my apologies!”

  He didn’t know why correcting the pronunciation of his surname was important at a time like this, but it was. Only there would be two babies carrying his name, not just the one.

  “My maternal great-great-grandparents had two sets of twins.” A portrait of Kate Gannon and Johnny Montague hanging in his family’s Black Hills cabin had fascinated Adam as a boy. When he ran away from home, he chose their name as his new one. Why the sudden interest in his heritage, he didn’t know. Maybe because he’d just found out he was having twins to add to his family tree. Seeing that first baby’s head on the screen had brought home pretty fucking fast that he was going to be passing on his name—and taking on a shitload of responsibility.

  The doctor finished up, giving Karla the photo strips and a new prescription for iron pills along with instructions to take her vitamins at night if she experience extreme nausea. Doctor Palmer left them alone for her to dress, asking them to meet in her office when ready.

  “Adam…”

  He glanced in Karla’s direction, and her expression took his breath again a third time. Tears shimmered in her eyes before her face swam in front of him.

  “Why are you crying, Kitten?” His voice sounded hoarse.

  “Twins, Adam. Are we ready for this?”

  I’ll be fucked if I know. I’m not sure I was ready for one yet.

  However, Karla didn’t need to hear that right now.

  “What are you saying, Kitten? You don’t think we can handle two tiny babies? Hell, we have four months to get ready.”

  Her eyes opened wider. “You mean you’re okay with having two at once?”

  “Hon, I don’t think we have a choice.” He grinned. “But I learned a long time ago nothing was going to be ordinary or predictable with you.”

  She sank into the table with relief, and her face glowed even more than it had all these months. Then her face became worried and her chin quivered. “We don’t even have a place to live yet.”

  “Don’t you worry. We’ll find a new
agent and start looking at a new place every day until we find one.” Fuck, though, she was right to worry. They hadn’t had any luck finding a suitable house they could afford yet. But he would shut down the club and turn that place into a home if need be, not that he wanted to raise a family in the middle of the city.

  Aw, shit, now he was crying, too. Maybe if he ignored the tears, she wouldn’t notice.

  Karla reached up and brushed his cheek with her thumb, leaving a cold wetness in her wake and a shocked look on her face. “You know I love you, Adam…” Sounded like a but coming so he waited, not sure what she was going to say. She smiled. “…but I haven’t been able to envision you as a hands-on, diaper-changing dad—not right away at least.”

  Me either.

  He sat up straighter to defend his potential for having—or learning—parenting skills. “How hard can it be with those disposable diapers? At least I won’t poke them with pins. Besides, we can do anything we put our minds to. Hell, there are two of us, too.”

  He helped Karla up, and she dressed as quickly as she could. “Sounds like your sperm are responsible for this. We don’t have any twins in my family.”

  “No point laying the blame—”

  “Who said anything about blame? I think having twins will be amazing. I’m going to treat them as individuals, though. No wearing the same clothes, even if they are the same sex.”

  How did she already have them popped out and wearing clothes? Adam still couldn’t wrap his head around how he would be able to provide everything needed for two babies.

  Where the hell were they going to live? They hadn’t found any two-bedroom houses they liked in their price range, but did they need to be looking for a three-bedroom now? Of course, when the babies were little, sharing a room would be good for them. Help them bond, not that twins needed any help bonding from what little he knew. He needed to find some training manuals on raising twins just as soon as he got Karla home. They only had four months to figure this out.