by May Gordon
"What?" She asks in confusion.
"A ring. And don’t forget you’ll be wearing it for the rest of your life.” She’s clearly shocked and double-checks to make sure she understood me correctly. “Well, make it a wedding set. We should get mine, too.”
"Is this your way of asking me to marry you?”
"We love each other and we’re having a baby together." Taking her hands, I bring them to my mouth and place a kiss on each. “I’ve never been good with words, but I love you, Poppy. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to spend the rest of it with you.” When she bursts into tears, I feel the eyes on me, the strange looks as they wonder what I did.
"I'm sorry,” she apologizes. “I'm overwhelmed and emotional." I’m nervous as I wait for her answer, and when she gives it to me, I bring her body to mine and kiss her. “Yes!”
Over the course of the next hour, we choose our rings, and by the time we return to Boden’s, she’s exhausted. I run a bath for her, then help her out when she’s finished, dry her off, and we call it a day. Spooning her, my heart jumps when I feel the baby kick under my hand, loving that I get to share this with her.
This woman has done the impossible. She stole a killer’s heart.
Chapter 9
Poppy
After swiping through the photos on Annabelle’s phone, I return it to her, telling her, “Your son and daughter are adorable.”
"Thank you,” she beams with motherly pride. “Foster and I are truly blessed. I heard you’re having a girl.” She’s stunning with her black hair and dark blue eyes. It’s hard not to be jealous as I sit here, my belly now so fat I can’t see my feet. “You okay?”
"Does it hurt?" I lean in and whisper.
She laughs, then composes herself and says, "Sorry, I wasn't expecting that question. I will say whatever pain you feel is forgotten as soon as you see your baby. Honestly, yours can't be any worse than Molly's birth." Then she goes on to explain how she had her in their living room.
“Are the crime kings and their wives like a cult?” She snickers at my joke, telling me they’re all very close and spend a lot of time together. "Even with everyone being so spread out?"
"Yes. Duke and Blair are even watching our kids while we’re here."
"Smith seems like an outsider," I comment.
"Not as much as he used to be. He kept to himself a lot in the past.”
I gasp when my daughter kicks, making her presence known. “Wow,” I mutter, “she’s anxious.”
"You’re due soon, right?" I let her know I still have four weeks.
"But I'm so big and tired. And scared." I confess. Annabelle takes my hands, her touch comforting, and assures me that I’ll be okay.
“Smith is a great partner. He'll be there for you through every step." That has me checking the time on my phone. I’m not sure what Smith, Foster, and Boden are doing in the office, but they’ve been in there for hours. I know something is happening based upon some whispers I overheard, but I don’t know if has to do with me or not. “You want to talk a walk?”
It serves to distract me, which I’m sure was her intention. "Is that even allowed?" I sulk as I haven’t left the house since Smith and I went shopping a few weeks ago.
"We won’t go far,” she says, “but Boden has five acres and it’s all heavily guarded.” I really do need to move around as it helps ease the aches and pains. Annabelle helps me up from the couch and we head outside, the fresh air and the smell of the flowers instantly makes me feel better. She links her arm through mine and starts another conversation as we follow the path already in place. I laugh at the stories she shares about her husband and the other couples, but stop abruptly when a sharp pain hits in my side, followed by a second near my groin.
"Oh, god," I whimper as I grab her hand.
"What's wrong? Is it the baby?"
"It hurts," I sob. She eases me to a nearby bench, calling one of Boden’s men over to stay with me. “Get Smith,” I plead, needing him. She promises she’ll be return immediately with him, then removes her shoes and runs back to the house.
"Miss Poppy, should I call an ambulance?" The guard asks. I tell him not until Smith gets here. When I can finally breathe again a few minutes later, I glance up and two men in suits watching me. I’ve seen them around the estate while I’ve been here. One of the men, John, removes a gun from a holster and shoots my guard in the back of the head. What the hell is going on?
I’m yanked to my feet as the other orders me to go with them. I want to fight, but I don’t dare risk it in my condition and my scream is cut off the second I start. Somehow they get me off the property undetected and lead me to a van idling on the far side of the trail. My eyes dart around, wanting to memorize as much as I can, except a rag is placed over my nose and mouth, my body instinctively breathing in to try to get air in my lungs. As everything goes black, I pray for Smith to save us.
Smith
"This is a huge fucking mess," Foster mutters.
Boden agrees, adding, “I have a feeling this is all connected one way or another."
"The hit on Poppy, Foster's smugglers getting raided, and your mole?" I ask.
"The Donalds have been trying to push more of their drugs to the States and Foster has been selective about what he uses them for,” Boden explains. “Loyalty in our business is everything. The idea he might’ve turned one of ours pisses me off.” Having been betrayed in the past, that is understandably a sore spot for him. Factor in that it was his wife that did it to him…
"Why have so many wars going at once? They aren’t that powerful."
"You forget they arranged a lucrative marriage between Max and the head family in Argentina who would do whatever it took to protect their daughter’s position and that of her future kids.”
Thinking about that, Boden sighs. "So now the French and Argentinians are after us. How do we deal with that?"
"One thing at a time," I respond, though I’m ready to be done with all of this. A second later, the door flies open and Foster instantly moves to intercept Annabelle who is standing there, clearly out of breath.
"What's wrong, angel?" She waves him off, her gaze searching until it lands on me.
"Smith, it's Poppy. We were on the garden trail and she was in pain. I left her with a guard to come get you.” I’m instantly rushing out of the room and heading for Poppy. I yell her name when I reach where she should be. Is it the baby? She still has four weeks. When I see Boden’s man on the ground, blood pooling from the back of his head, I roar with rage.
“She’s gone,” I tell Boden when he comes up beside me. “I’m going to kill them all,” I vow. No one touches what’s mine and gets away with it.
Chapter 10
Poppy
I wake up dizzy and sick to my stomach, but I open my eyes to look at my surroundings, wanting to figure out where I am. I assume it’s a warehouse at first, then I feel a rocking motion underneath me as a horn sounds in the distance. Am I on a ship? Please don’t let me have traveled too far from Smith.
A sharp pain in my side causes me to gasp and I attempt to breathe through it, all the while praying I don’t give birth in this dirty place. On wobbly legs, I stand, my hands bracing my weight on the wall for support. Using it to stay upright, I work my way around the room and toward the door where I bang on it. That and my yelling has someone with a French accent on the other side ordering me to back away from the entrance. “I’m giving you food and water.”
I do as he says, and once it’s open, I tell him, "I want to speak to your boss." He doesn’t respond, just pushes the tray inside and once more shuts me inside. My stomach growls at the smell because I’m starving, yet I don’t trust them not to have put anything in it. Then again, if they wanted me dead, they could’ve already done that instead of putting me in here.
Pressing my ear to the door, I strain to listen, thankful when I don’t hear anyone outside it. This may be my one and only chance. And they’ll probably leave me alone for
a while since they were just here. Crouching as much as I can in my condition, I remove two bobby pins from my hair and focus on remembering what Smith taught me about picking locks. The lesson was meant to be for fun, not something I’d ever need to use in a real-life situation. Concentrating on my task and trying to ignore the pain, I get to work. It’s not easy, but I finally get it. I want to shout in relief, but I force myself to stay quiet as I slowly open the door and peak out.
There isn’t a guard as I’d expected, so I assume they don’t expect a heavily pregnant woman to cause any trouble. I can hear someone talking, so I head in the opposite direction after slipping out. It takes me a minute to adjust to the movement as I walk, proving my earlier thought I was on the water correct. When I reach the end of the hall, I gently open the door there and am greeted by fresh air and seawater. Stepping through it, I realize I am on warehouse boat.
I shuffle to the rail and look down. I need to get off here, even more so as my contractions are coming closer together. Yelling in French causes me to look over my shoulder. They must’ve checked on me sooner than I’d hoped and now they know I escaped. The dock is getting smaller, telling me it’s now or never. Having no other choice, I make my way down the side and brace for the impact as I hit the water. It’s so cold I can feel it in my bones. I’m normally a good swimmer, but I’m struggling due to the extra weight I’m carrying. Bullets hit the surface as I push myself to continue. As I get closer to the dock, I decide to hide under it, using it for cover. I stay there for maybe an hour, then use the ladder to get out. I don’t want to remain in the freezing water longer than I need to because hypothermia may set in. As I stand on the wood, the pains that had stopped while I was submerged start back up with a vengeance. I need help in more ways than one.
I don't have Smith or Boden’s numbers as we’ve always been within close proximity. I carefully maneuver between the obstacles in my path until I keel over, unable to move until it passes. I need a safe place to hide until Smith finds me.
When I come across a repair shop, I duck inside and take cover in a boat that clearly still needs work done on it. Night has fallen, so I should be okay here. Now I just need my daughter to be patient and let me get out of here before she decides to be born.
Chapter 11
Smith
After hours of searching, I’m trying to rein in my need to burn this whole fucking city to the ground until she’s given back to me. Boden, Foster, and their men have joined me, scouring the entire territory for Poppy. I’m fucking pissed she was taken at all, but the fact it was right under my nose? Words cannot describe my rage and I’ve already ripped my friend a new one on his lack of security. We all got complacent, though. So sure we were safe, that we outsmarted the Donalds. I have to give him credit for that. They were stealthy in their strategy, striking when they had a chance and achieving their goal. Now they all have to die, something I should’ve already done. If I had, this wouldn’t be happening. I’m done hiding. First, I need to find Poppy.
Having already checked private airstrips, I’m now at my last location, the central docks. Of course, they could’ve been here and left, meaning she’s miles away, but I refuse to accept that possibility. Gun in hand, prepared to fire at a moment’s notice, I inspect the lot, using the cover the dark provides to conceal my approach. She’s not in any of the boats or buildings I come across, but there’s one shop left. Kicking the door in when I find it locked, I start all over again, stopping when I hear crying coming from one area. Hoping I’m right, I call her name.
"Smith! I need you." Holstering my weapon, I run toward her voice and climb in with her. There’s enough light for me to see, and the scene that greets me is forever burned into my brain. She’s sitting in puddle of blood, her face pale, and she’s soaked in sweat. As bad as that is, the worst is that she’s barely breathing. “The baby."
Gently scooping her up, I hurry to the SUV as quickly as I can while being careful not to jostle her. Settling her in the passenger seat, I head to the hospital, calling Boden and Foster on the way. I glance at her and discover that she’s passed out. “Wake up, Poppy. Stay with me.” When she doesn’t respond, fear like I’ve never felt before hits me. It seems to take forever to arrive at our destination. I pull in front of the emergency entrance and hop out, not caring that the keys are inside and it’s still running. I retrieve her and hold her against me as I walk inside, yelling for help. “Get a doctor!” Seeing a stretcher, I place her on it as someone hurries toward us. When they see her, they spring into action and wheel her away.
I rush after them only to be stopped by a nurse. “Sir, you can’t go back there.”
"The hell I can't." She ignores my denial and says they’ll keep me updated. Knowing I can’t kill my way through this, I tell myself I need to trust the staff to do their jobs. She points me to the waiting room and I sit in a chair, shoulders slumped. For the first time in my life, I pray. I don’t know how long I’m like that, but when I glance up, I see Boden standing there.
"How is she?" He asks as he takes the chair next to me.
"I don't know." My voice, just like my heart, is raw.
His hand on my shoulder is a comforting weight, yet it’s frightening at the same time. More than anyone, he knows what I’m going through. I can’t think worst case scenario. She and the baby will be okay. Seeing her blood covering me, he lets me know, "Foster and Annabelle are bringing clothes for you." After changing, I resume my position, waiting what feels like a lifetime before the doctor comes out. His face is grim as he confirms that we’re with Poppy.
I don’t hesitate to respond, telling him as I rise to my feet, “Yes, she’s my wife.” She will be, so I see no reason to say otherwise. “How is she? Our daughter?” He explains that the umbilical cord erupted, causing the massive loss of blood as well as a lack of oxygen for the baby. I hear him, but I focus on one thing. “They’re alive?”
"Your daughter is in the NICU where she’s receiving an IV and oxygen. With time, both will make a full recovery." Relief weakens my knees and I plop back down on my seat. “While your wife is getting set up in her room, I can take you to your little girl.” I follow him and am instructed on how to scrub my hands and arms at a sink. Now clean, I’m taken to a bed where she’s swaddled in pink, tubes and wires attached to machines coming poking through.
The nurse gestures to the chair next to the crib. “If you’d like to sit down, I can pass her to you.” I’m a goner the second she’s placed in my arms. Tears flow down my cheeks as I look at my daughter. She’s perfect. I don’t ever remember crying in my lifetime, and just the sight of this perfect things has results in me becoming a blubbering mess. "Have you and your wife thought of a name?" We hadn’t, but it instantly pops into my mind, a way to honor the woman I’ve only dreamed of, the one I believe is my mother. The only good thing I had in my life until Poppy and this sweet baby. Mary is a nice compromise to marigolds. “Mary Poppy Smith.”
"That’s beautiful,” she declares. “I'll add it to her chart." Then she steps to the side to give me some privacy. I spend an hour holding Mary, leaving her only when I’m told I can see Poppy. Returning her to the nurse physically hurts, but Poppy needs me, too. She’s asleep when I get there, though she wakes shortly after, smiling when she sees me. Then she jerks, gasping at the pain from her c-section.
“You’ve been through hell and just had major surgery," I remind her as I gently urge her to her back once more.
"Where’s our baby?" She asks on a sob and I inform her of everything I know. Poppy relaxes at the news she’s okay, but she’s clearly still worried about something. "Tell me that it’s over. No more running or hiding. I want to be safe." Her plea breaks my heart and I promise her that it’s done because it will be soon, then we can move forward.
“You and Mary are my life now."
"Mary?" She wants to know. I share her full name, to which she whispers, already falling back asleep, “I love it.”
"Rest, baby. I’m not goin
g anywhere.”
Chapter 12
Smith- 2 weeks later (France)…
Waiting in Ernest’s office, feet propped on his desk, I flip through his paperwork. The past twenty-four hours have been busy as I’ve spent it all hunting. Except for the man whose space I now sit in, every member of the family is dead. Those not related by blood had a choice to make, leave and never return or face the same fate. Once I deal with Ernest, his entire enterprise will be wiped out. Having never cared for drugs, it’s not really a loss for myself nor my friends. Of course, I’m sure they’ll begin looking for someone they can trust to take over this territory as soon as possible. Boden already sent word to the family in Argentina, wanting them to know what happens when you cross not only the Crime Kings, but the Boogeyman, too. Suffice it to say, they listened to the warning and removed all of the men they had in Paris.
When Ernest steps through his door, he stops at the sight before him. That could be because of me or the fact his eyes are trained on his son’s lifeless body. Max’s death was not quick. I drew it out, wanting him to suffer for what he did to Poppy. “I’d apologize,” I tell him with a shrug, “but he had it coming.”
False bravado has him asking, “So, it’s you that’s been killing my men. All this over some slut my son knocked up?" Before he can blink, I stand and pull my knife out, throwing it at him all in one single movement. It hits his upper thigh and he screams in pain as he drops to the floor.
“Want to rephrase that?” I threaten him.