Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Saving Liberty (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Sarah O'Rourke

  Or so I thought.

  You see, during my twenty week visit, my obstetrician ran some routine tests that came back with abnormal results. One terrifying week and several scary tests later, my doctor had reached a diagnosis. I had stage four ovarian cancer - and it had already begun to spread. Treatment while pregnant was impossible, and an abortion was out of the question for me. I already loved my little girl. My little Liberty Belle. There was zero chance that I was going to eliminate the pregnancy.

  The doctor was very clear with me. Without immediate treatment, my cancer would be fatal, and even if I’d opted for medical intervention, my chances were negligible. The fetus I carried, however, was healthy, and according to my OB-GYN, my darling child’s development was progressing with textbook accuracy. Therefore, I had a choice to make. I could choose a life for my daughter or a small chance at survival for myself, but not both.

  There was nothing difficult about my choice at all. My baby girl was everything to me, Truly. EVERYTHING.

  But while I’d essentially been served a death sentence, I wasn’t gone yet. I still had one very important mission to complete, and that was to arrange the best life I possibly could for my daughter.

  I began reaching out to Yancy the afternoon I received my diagnosis. Several voice mails later, I realized he must have blocked my number. I was in the process of trying to contact him through the military when I saw his death notice in the paper. News of his death and subsequently learning through his obituary that he had a wife sent me into a tailspin so I can’t imagine what his passing must have done to you. That’s why I didn’t reach out to you immediately. I knew you needed time to grieve. And I needed time to find out all I could about you and the rest of the people in Yancy’s life.

  See, Truly, I grew up in the foster care system in the Dallas/ Ft. Worth area. My biological familial ties are non-existent. No mother. No father. No siblings. Not even a stray cousin in Outer Mongolia. I’m alone, or I was alone until my baby – a baby that won’t even be able to remember me when I’m gone. None of that, however, makes me any less her mother. It only means I have no family with which to leave her. And as her mother, I’ve only grown more determined to find the right people to raise her after I’m gone. You could even say I’m desperate. Because the very last thing I ever want for my daughter is the life I had as a child.

  Growing up in a series of foster homes and orphanages was hard, and often times, dangerous. Never knowing exactly where I’d put my head to pillow as I grew up left me more than a little emotionally scarred. And don’t even get me started on the abuses I faced when placed with families that took in kids for less than noble reasons. If I was lucky, those families just saw me as another check from the government and treated me accordingly. When I wasn’t so lucky, I’d be forced to endure a varied array of abuses – some of which would turn your stomach. I’ve seen and felt it all. Verbal. Physical. And in one awful home, sexual. Those terrible foster families are out there, Truly, and the kids don’t get any say in where they’re placed. All a child can do is pray that they win the lottery and nab one of the decent homes out there. I know. I suffered through the process again and again. I’m not asking for your pity. I just need you to understand my motivation in finding my little girl a happy safe environment to grow up. I want my Liberty to have a home filled with happiness, stability and love. I want her to have everything that I didn’t.

  It’s why I went to the extreme measure of hiring a detective agency and having you investigated after I learned of your existence in Yancy’s obituary. Same story with Yancy’s friend, Paxton Graham. I wish I had the time to be sorry for invading your privacy. I DO know I should feel apologetic for my methods, but the truth is that time is a very precious commodity for me. I don’t have any to waste on things that I can’t and wouldn’t change. Before I turned over custody of my child to anyone, I wanted to be sure that they were a good person – a person that would never take out their anger on an innocent kid. And there’s no doubt in my mind at all that you and Paxton are excellent people, Truly. The very best. And it would be an honor to have you both raise my child.

  I know this all must seem very cruel and unfair to you. Because it IS.

  Especially since I know you’ve suffered more than one miscarriage during the time you were married to Yancy. I also know that you are aware that this wasn’t the first time your husband was unfaithful to you. Now, you’re being asked to raise the result of one of those infidelities? Yeah, if I was you, I’d want to knock my teeth down my throat, too. If it helps, the cancer leaves me in a great deal of pain – especially since I can’t take the good drugs thanks to my occupied womb. So, while you may never have gotten the satisfaction of slapping my face, please know that God has dropkicked me in the gut for you.

  At any rate, as I write this letter to you, I know my time is slipping away. Day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment, the clock is running out on me. I know naming you as my kid’s guardian is the height of presumptuous, but I don’t have time to worry about the way things look. I need you, Truly. You might not have a living child, but you ARE a mother and I know that on some level you understand my desperation. While Liberty Belle might be the product of my extremely brief affair with your husband, we both know she’s so much more. First and foremost, she’s an innocent, blameless for anything her father or mother has done. Perhaps, too, you could see Liberty as another chance to get things right. Maybe you could pour all the love you never had a chance to give your own children into her? I know it must sound greedy to ask that, but my daughter has NO ONE. Truthfully, I’d make a deal with the devil himself if it meant she could have a life filled with joy and laughter. Based on the research I had done on you, I know that you didn’t have a real happy childhood either so I’m betting you understand how important this wish is to me.

  I’m not stupid, Truly. I’m almost positive right that right now you’re trying to figure out where the hell I got the nerve to put you in this position. And here’s the answer -- I have nothing to lose. I’m dying. Hell, I’ll be dead by the time you read this. Finding a replacement mom and dad is the last thing I will ever do for my child.

  And it KILLS me to do this. Absolutely slays me.

  But it doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. Not any longer.

  Liberty does.

  So I will beg and plead. I will humble myself and throw myself on whatever sword you want to point at me if it means you’ll do what I can’t… be there to love and protect my baby.

  If you wanted me to be punished for my sins, the ultimate price has been paid. I’m dead; celestial retribution for my crimes has been delivered. Please don’t let my punishment extend to my child.

  Take her, Truly. Offer her all that love I know you have in your heart. Give her the childhood that neither of us had. I know she’s the image of Yancy so when you look at her, remember those good times you shared with your husband. When you hold Liberty close to your heart, know that while you might not have nurtured her in your womb, it will be your hands and heart that helps mold her into the person she becomes. Cherish the moments, both big and small, that you spend together and know that you will have my eternal gratitude for doing the job I couldn’t.

  To make things easier, I have set up a trust fund for Liberty that you and Paxton can draw on as you need it. It has the proceeds from my estate and the payout from my life insurance policy in it. It’s my fervent hope that you and Pax will choose to raise Liberty together, but if one of you opts to remove yourself as a guardian, I understand. The decision to take joint custody of Liberty is a huge commitment. My prayers are that since you and Pax already know each other, the transition will be easier. Hopefully, the money will help ease any financial burdens taking in Liberty creates. If you have any questions about my estate or Liberty’s trust fund, my attorney’s name is Edward Kemp, and he can be reached at (254)-555-4321

  I’m sorry for the pain of your past (especially the agony I contributed to). And while the present may be
filled with turbulence and confusion, Truly, I KNOW your future will be filled with happiness and wonder as you and Pax delight in the joys of parenthood.

  Wishing you a lifetime of happy memories,

  Melissa Keats

  By the time I finished, my eyes had rained teardrops all over Melissa’s letter, leaving several damp splotches all over the pages, smearing the blue ink in several places and making the words almost illegible. “J-jesus,” I whispered, lowering the sheets to my lap with trembling hands as my breath faltered in my chest as I fought a sob that seemed to have permanently lodged itself in my throat. Why couldn’t anything just be clear cut anymore? This woman had an affair with my husband and had gotten pregnant in the process. I should have been able to hate her, right? This should be a clearly marked case of black and white with clean, sharp lines delineating it. There shouldn’t be an iota of gray area to this!

  Except, there was.

  Because there was a big, heaping helping of gray area here, and it had been poured all over my head! I was fucking drowning in the gray area! I was suffocating in it.

  Because Melissa Keats wasn’t a bad woman. She sounded like she was a smart chick who’d made a stupid decision she’d been forced to pay for with her life. In an alternate universe, she and Melissa probably could have been good friends. In this one, however, Melissa was dead and her surviving daughter needed a new mom and dad.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I muttered under my breath. God, I didn’t want this. Well, I kinda did (I mean, I’d always wanted to have kids), but not this way. This was some shit you’d watch play out on a soap opera! Hell, I’d be glued to my television with a storyline this good. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a primetime drama, though. This was my frickin’ life!

  Looking around at the packed boxes I had stacked against the wall, I shook my head. Shortly, I wouldn’t even have a home to call my own. How could I even contemplate taking responsibility for Yancy’s daughter when my own life was such a mess? I was about two breaths away from a full-on nervous breakdown; what business did I have even thinking about being Liberty’s mom?

  Burying my wet face in my hands as my anguish crested, I couldn’t keep my broken sobs from escaping, the pain of everything finally becoming too much for me to compartmentalize. “Why? Why is this happening now?” I asked myself brokenly. “Damn you, Yancy! Damn you for doing this to me and your daughter!” I sobbed as I felt myself beginning to lose control. “How am I supposed to do this? Raising your daughter with another woman was never a part of any vow I took to you, you selfish bastard! I can barely manage to get myself through the day without falling apart a half dozen times. How am I supposed to do this, too! I can’t!” I claimed harshly, shaking my head as a pair of strong, comforting arms suddenly surrounded me.

  “Shhhh, Bambi. It’s okay. I got you. Let it out, baby. Just let it all out,” I heard Pax encourage against my ear softly, his deep voice sliding over me like warm honey.

  “Pax,” I whimpered, my voice cracking as I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung tightly. “I feel like I’m losing it. How could he do this to me? How could he give another woman a baby when I…. when we…. It’s not fair? He gave her the baby I was meant to have!” I cried into his neck.

  “I know, sweetheart,” Pax murmured, his arms tightening around my middle as I shook in his arms.

  “She was supposed to be mine. Just mine. But she’s not. Liberty belongs to Yancy and a woman I never even knew,” I wailed bitterly as he rocked me gently in his arms. “And now they’re both just gone and they left us here to clean it all up!”

  “I know, Tru,” Pax whispered against my temple, his lips brushing the warm skin. “And you’re right, it isn’t fair to either of us, but there isn’t much you and I can do about that. We’ve got to deal with what is in front of us, baby, and what we’ve got is a pretty damn special baby girl. I can already tell that little girl is gonna make all the pain and anger we both feel right now worth it. I don’t know how; I just feel it way down deep in my soul.”

  Drawing back a few inches, I stared at this incredibly sexy man with my damp eyes. With short dark hair and eyes the color of sapphires, Paxton had the kind of face that could make a girl’s lady bits dance the quickstep. And his body…. Dear God, his body would make a nun rethink her commitment to the cross. Dropping one hand to his hard chest, my fingers danced across his cut muscles as my I licked my lips. “I don’t know if I can. I already felt like a fool for staying with Yancy despite knowing about his wandering dick. Seeing his baby everyday….being reminded of what an idiot I was…”

  “Hey,” Pax interrupted, moving one hand to cradle my cheek. “You weren’t the idiot in this fucked up scenario, baby. He was. Any man that would stray when he had a woman like you waiting for him at home is a special kind of fuckwit, Tru. I mean it,” he declared forcefully when I began to shake my head in denial. “I told that moron that then when he was making mistake after mistake, gambling away his future with a good woman, and I’m telling you right here and now that he didn’t deserve you. What you gotta get here is that Yancy was the problem. Not you. It was never you, Truly. You’re perfect. Always have been,” he insisted as he leaned his forehead against mine while his fingers tightened briefly against my face while his breath mingled with mine. “Say you get me, Bambi,” he demanded gently. “Confirm to me that you understand what I’m telling you.”

  “I can’t do that,” I whispered. “I feel a lot of different things here, Pax. Stupid. Foolish. Idiotic. What I don’t feel is perfect,” I tried to explain sadly with a small shake of my head. “In fact,” I continued shakily, “I was so far from perfect, it was just plain sad. I’m damaged - defective in a way that somehow I could make a mostly decent guy like Yancy want to stray from our marriage and find that special something that connects two people with someone else subce I obviously wasn’t able to provide it to him at home.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Pax snapped harshly.

  Staring at him with tearful eyes, I bit my lip. “It’s really not,” I argued brokenly. “It’s my life.”

  Pax’s jaw flexed as he stared into my eyes. “Fuck it,” he finally muttered as he leaned closer to me. “I know it’s too soon for this, but I can’t find a good enough reason to tell myself no – especially now that I know that’s the kind of shit swirling in your mind. Somebody needs to show you that there’s not a fucking thing wrong with you. And honest to God, I don’t think I can resist those pretty pink lips of yours anymore. I don’t even wanna try. I’ve gotta know if they taste as sweet as they look.”

  “What?” I asked faintly, unable to believe I’d just heard what I thought I’d heard. Did this deliciously hot piece of raw masculinity just say he couldn’t resist my lips? The same lips I’d barely bothered to keep moisturized with Chapstick? How was that even possible? No man had ever found anything about me irresistible. Ever. I hadn’t even been able to hold my husband’s attention longer than the length of a meal. “Pax, what are you talking about?”

  The side of Pax’s mouth lifted in a shy half-smile. “I’m talking about going with my gut and showing you exactly how perfect I think you are,” he murmured before covering my lips with his.

  I stopped breathing when Pax’s warm mouth settled heavily over mine, his teeth playfully nibbling my full lower lip as his hand moved up and down my spine, urging me closer to his deliciously hard chest. Winding my arms around his neck, I couldn’t help my soft moan of pleasure when his hot tongue skated against the seam of my lips, coaxing them apart so he could slide inside and possess my mouth. I felt an almost electric jolt of awareness slam through my senses as his mouth mated with mine, each flick of his tongue zapping my body with a strong current of primal need that seemed to flow directly to my throbbing pussy.

  Quickly, what had started as a tentative, careful touch of his mouth to mine turned wet and wild as his lips became more demanding, his kiss nearly consuming me as one of his hands found the elastic band holding back my hair. Sucking on hi
s lower lip as he freed my ponytail from its restraint, he sifted a hand through my hair, his palm curling possessively around my scalp as he tilted my head and deepened our kiss.

  Humming unhappily when he would have pulled back and broken our kiss an all too short minute later, I chased his mouth with mine, angry that he’d take away the first thing that had felt really good to me in months. Couldn’t he see I needed this? I needed to feel his talented mouth moving against mine. I needed to glut myself on that entirely-too-addictive manly flavor that seemed to be infused into his kiss. I wanted more of it. More of everything. Suddenly, I couldn’t get close enough. I wanted to be closer to him – as close as I could get to him.

  Keeping our lips fused together, I shoved lightly at his chest until he went from kneeling in front of the recliner where I sat to sitting on his ass in the middle of my floor with me straddling his legs like I cowgirl bent on taking the ride of her life.

  “Truly,” he mumbled against my lips between kisses as his hands palmed the swell of my ass and squeezed gently. “We need to slow down, baby” he urged.

  I could feel the thick bulge of his cock growing bigger behind the fly of his jeans even as he spoke. He wanted to slow down? Was he crazy? Being in his arms felt incredible, and I couldn’t resist rocking myself against his hardness, rubbing my achy, swollen core against his crotch like a cat in heat. “No,” I whined dropping my head against his neck as I arched my back and ground myself against his hardness again. “Slow is bad. Fast is better,” I encouraged him mindlessly as I lightly bit against the tanned flesh of his neck as I rode the hard ridge of his cock again, my nipples hardening behind the lace cups of my bra when his pelvis lifted and the hard ridge of his arousal bumped against my core erotically. “Besides, it doesn’t feel like your body wants to slow down anyway,” I teased softly against his ear.