by Amber Burns
“We love Cynthia,” she whispered with tears in her eyes. “But we wanted to know if you two were interested in adopting her?”
“What?” Cade couldn’t believe they were asking this.
“Part of Tommy and Heather’s will and wishes for you guys as god parents, was to adopt Cynthia if we saw that it was too much to handle in our old age. Well, we are definitely struggling.”
Tommy’s mom looked to pained to be asking such a thing.
“We will need to talk about it,” Cade hesitated.
“We will do it,” Cindy called out, overhearing the conversation.
Cade’s head shot over at Cindy.
“We will?” He said.
“Why not?” Cindy shrugged. “We want a baby, we seem to be having some trouble, why not adopt her?”
Cade smiled and shook his head. He looked back to Mrs. Lane.
“Let’s adopt her then.”
***
Everything moved slowly within the adoption process. The state evaluated all three of them for physical or mental problems that would make them unfit for parenting or moving into a new home. Finding them both fit and healthy, and after approving their condo, Cade and Cindy got to work signing the paperwork that would make little Cynthia their own.
Even after signing all the paper work, weeks passed before a decision was made. Cade was working on a customer’s tattoo, Cynthia on his mind, when his phone buzzed to life. Before he could even say ‘Hello’ Cindy’s voice burst from the speaker.
“Cade, the adoption agency called and gave us a date!”
Hearing the excitement in her voice warmed him.
“Also, I have other news for when you get home tonight.”
“Okay, I love you and I can’t wait to adopt our girl.”
He hung up and looked back at his customer’s new tattoo.
“Sorry about that,” Cade apologized. “Let’s get your cleaned up.”
He cleaned and wiped the area, and the customer stood to leave. Not even a moment later, another customer was sitting in his chair and he was looking over the design he had crafted for her a week ago. The process repeated through the day and Cade used his work to keep the excitement at bay.
Exhausted, he made his way home that night and found Cindy asleep on the couch with baby Cynthia in her bassinet nearby also snoring. He smiled and kissed her gently to wake her.
“Hey beautiful,” he whispered.
“Hey.” She stretched and looked up at him.
“Are you hungry?” He waved bags of takeout in front of her.
“Mmm, that smells delicious.”
As they ate their noodles and chicken, Cade began to wonder what her other surprise was.
“So, what’s going on love?” He asked. “You said you had news for me tonight?”
Cade looked at Cindy who had a large clump of noodles on the end of her chopsticks, ready to pack into her mouth. It was a comical image and he tried not to laugh, until he saw how serious her expression was.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was much deeper with concern laced through it.
“Well,” she looked at the fingers that rested in her lap. “You’re going to be a daddy.”
“I know,” he stated with confusion. “Cynthia will be my little girl. We are practically blood.”
He saw her shake her head and she pulled something out from behind her back. Looking down at her hand, a pregnancy test was stretched out before him. Two little lines indicating a positive test were all he needed to pull Cindy against him in a warm embrace. He kissed her shoulder as he held her close.
18
Cindy’s belly grew seemingly in pace with Cynthia over the months. Cade continued to fall more and more in love with both of his girls. When he could feel the little thumps of the baby kicking and twisting inside, he was overcome with joy. He rested his head against her belly so he could listen. Soft thumps hit his cheek.
“What is he doing in there?” Cade smiled at her.
“Probably bouncing around from the ice cream.”
Her eyes were cast down, and he tilted her chin up.
“Something wrong beautiful?”
“Am I?” She asked.
“Are you what?”
“Still beautiful?” Her cheeks burned with blush and he kissed her gently.
“You are always beautiful. If anything, you are even more beautiful now. I may be an artist, but I will never be able to create a masterpiece like the one in your belly.”
Her smile filled him with joy.
When they made love, they had to account for the growing belly and be creative. It seemed that time just kept slipping past them. One night, when Cindy was around thirty-six weeks, she felt terrible pain in her stomach and tried to drink water, lay on her side, and use the restroom. Nothing seemed to help and the pain continued. When her pain doubled and she was seeing spots, they raced out of the condo with little Cynthia and to the hospital. Cade called Cindy’s mom and she was there in no time. She kept baby Cynthia with her in the lobby as Cade went into the back with Cindy for her evaluation. Her pain had not decreased and the doctors were concerned but didn’t say anything to them.
After hours of pain, they finally wheeled her back and prepped her for an emergency caesarian. Cade watched as they pulled their baby from his wife’s body and took him to the warmer. His little body was quiet as they worked and he feared they might have lost him. He did not want to have to tell Cindy they had lost their beautiful baby, when he suddenly heard a cry come from the corner. Their beautiful baby boy was just fine.
“How is he?” Cindy’s voice was weak and exhausted.
“He looks good,” Cade responded with a relieved smile.
They had to finish closing Cindy up before they could give her their baby. When they were finally back in their own room and he rested soundly under the warmer. Cade watched her and the little guy that slept nearby. He couldn’t believe he was a daddy, again, and that he had married the love of his life. He was truly happy for the first time in a long as he could remember. He walked over to their sleeping baby and placed his finger in his tiny hand, just as he had Cynthia. Caleb squeezed his father’s finger tight and reassuringly. Cade promised the small little body that snoozed before him, that he would always be here for him.
“Cade?” Cindy had been sleeping so peacefully, but she was now stirring.
“I am right here, I am just holding our perfect little man’s hand.”
Her smile touched her eyes and he walked over to kiss her on her forehead.
“Did you ever smoke again?”
That’s a random question, he thought.
“No, I guess I have just been too busy to care.” He shrugged and listened to the sounds in the hospital room.
“Cade, I love you.”
“I love you too Cindy.”
Cade watched his beautiful wife fall back to sleep and looking between her and their baby he felt a peace come over him, but he needed one last piece to complete the puzzle. He kissed her hand and walked out the room to go collect their little Cynthia.
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The Heart of a Hero
A Love Struck Bad Boys Romance
By Amber Burns
The following story is full of romance, sex and sensuality. See the preview below for a bit of foreplay.
She moved closer and curled herself around me.
“Just let me comfort you tonight Michel, I don’t know how to make you forget, but I can try to not to let you feel alone.”
I held on to her with my own arms around her small waist, amazed at how narrow it was. I breathed in her neck, her perfume intoxicating.
“Anna, can I call you Anna?” I asked into her hair.
She nodded, “I like that.”
She nuz
zled my neck and her next words were an ignition flame to a gas leak of arousal.
“Michel, why do scary situations and grief especially, cause a need for physical comforting and…” She trailed off lifting her head and wiping her hair from her face to look at me. “I’m sorry, that’s indecent.”
I stopped her from hiding her face again.
“I know what you mean, do you mind if we pick up that kiss where we were interrupted earlier?”
Her lips met mine before I had a chance to see her final facial expression, and our tongues entwined as her mouth opened to my gentle explorations. She moaned against me as I ran my hands up and down her back against the soft chiffon of her dress, feeling the zipper at the top, and working very hard to resist the temptation of sliding it down to expose smooth skin.
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Copyright © 2016 by Amber Burns
& Scarlet Lantern Publishing
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.
All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
1
Camp Cunningham, Bagram Airbase, Afghanistan.
I jogged in time with the rest of my platoon who were all breathing hard in the incredible dry desert heat and battling to keep their pace perfectly timed. The Sargent keeping in line next to us frowned.
“Can you useless rats not keep yourselves in a neat formation?” He screamed while he ran, not even out of breath or breaking the slightest sweat. He stopped, “Halt!”
To all of us this meant nothing good, it meant he had something worse than running in mind, we all stopped in our tracks and turned as one man to face him.
“Drop and give me a hundred!”
There were no groans or complaints, just a smooth and uniform movement as we spread out and fell to the hard baked tar, into push-up position. It became easy once you picked an item of complete non-importance to focus on, and today that was a speck of quarts stone right in my line of sight. It sparkled in the afternoon sun every time I lowered my nose toward it, and that’s what got me through those push-ups.
This PT, the physical training they put us through every day, was meant to keep us sane, the army didn’t want us sitting idle in the heat and thinking about our families, because then they’d have depressed men with guns. Not the best of situations. So in between missions, we trained, we sat in classes, and we worked on vehicles that weren’t broken. It was a fucking pain in the ass.
The call to go into Kabul on an extraction mission came the next day, and prep was the same as for any other, I’d been here for so long the place almost felt like home. This was my second tour and so far nothing bad had gone down. The last one was pretty uneventful too. It was a week before I was heading home anyway, holiday time again to go and spend some time in a civilized place. I missed Galveston, and the peace of being on my boat.
“Right boys, I want this quick, clean and efficient. There’s nothing complicated here, we have a suspect in that building,” The Major tapped a point on the map colored in different shades of green, orange and red. “And you need to retrieve him, and bring him out.”
He clicked a button bringing up infrared imaging.
“We have been monitoring the building all day, and enemy activity is minimal. There are civilians in neighboring buildings, so keep fire power to a minimum, and engage only if engaged first. Understood?” He looked at them pointedly. “You’ll go in light and fast, nothing jingles, and nothing shines. Your transport will wait two blocks away in the safe-zone. The operation goes down at four am tomorrow, now go grab some chow and get some shut eye.”
Everybody dispersed to their bunks, quiet and mentally preparing, I suppose each of us had our own way of doing that. I sat down on the edge of my cot and started taking my rifle apart to clean, the M4 had been given to me, as to every soldier when I joined the army, and I knew it like a lover. I placed the components on my blankets beside me and polished each piece with black hard shoe polish, leaving the weapon dull-black and un-shiny. It made it difficult to spot at night because light didn’t reflect off the metal surfaces.
I did the same thing with my helmet and the lace pieces on my boots. Everything had to be dull. We wouldn’t have big packs on this one, so I stuffed a set of hard rations (I always carried these because I couldn’t stand the sight of starving children) into my tactical belt along with spare ammo and a few grenades and flash-bangs, and when everything was ready, placed it next to my boots and rifle, and headed to the mess tent.
“Deverroux! Yo! You gonna come join us over here?” Maxwell called me over to the rowdy bunch of guys playing cards and listening to rap music while they ate the burgers we were given for dinner.
They fed us well, at least I think we ate well when I heard the tales from the Russian and South African guys. We got good old American basics, good home cooking, and on a few occasions, like this, burgers with French fries.
“Maxwell, what’ you up to?” I questioned, my mouth half stuffed with ground meat and bun.
“I’m kicking Andrews and Brigg’s asses at poker while I get my last supper.” He made a biblical praying gesture with his hands together and crossed himself, right, Catholic.
“Don’t say shit like that.”
I couldn’t help the seriousness in my tone, I hated that these guys could joke so easily about dying on a daily basis, especially now, when myself and Maxwell were due to go home so soon. We’d been friends since high school, gotten through basics, done some stuff state-side, and gone on our first tours together. We’d managed to stick together all the way somehow. He laughed.
“Dude, I’m walking dead here already, how else do you think I manage to get through this shit? The fucking training, the fucking desert, the fucking crapping in a bucket because we have no fucking toilets, the fucking lack of fucking!”
Now everybody in the circle burst out laughing, I couldn’t help it, I burst into a fit of chuckles too. That was so true, no women here.
I ignored their crap-talking and finished my food, and by eight I was lying in my bunk with my eyes closed thinking of home, more specifically of my boat, I didn’t really have anything else. I know the guys wouldn’t be in Galveston, but we’d visit each other, keep in touch maybe. Then again, isn’t that what you tell yourself at the end of high-school too? It never happened though.
********************
“Clear left doorway?”
Briggs’ voice in my com-set was audible only to me, and I responded with an “affirmative.”
There were just the four of us, fast, light and quick as the Major had said. The transport was now behind us, and the locals were only just beginning to stir in their doorways, I passed a young woman and hushed her with a finger over my lips. These people were familiar with us by now, and I think a few of them knew we didn’t want to hurt them, and that we only took aim for the bad guys. She nodded at me and disappeared back into the darkness of her mudbrick house.
“You’ve reached the target building Team Falcon, turn right into the next doorway,” Base spoke in our ears this time, we were named Team Falcon and they were Eagle, tacky but necessary.
No need to give an enemy the chance to get information on us that could harm us or families back home.
“Be advised, target for extraction is in a room near the back of the building, as reported by our intel late yesterday.”
“Thank you Eagle, entering target building.”
As I turned through the doorway, I was faced with a ten year-old boy, well, he could have been no more than ten. His face was a mask o
f panic, and he held a rifle that was about as big as he was, an AK47 I think.