“Can you send me a pic of the D.B.?” the supervisor asked over the secure radio channel. They all wanted to see if it matched the mug shot of Rodgers that Brody had on his laptop.
“Yeah. Give me a sec. He’s face up. Looks like he was stabbed several times and got his throat slit. My guess is three to four hours ago, but need the ME to confirm. By the way, there’s a Frankenstein mask in here, and plans and evidence of the bomb from Clearwater laying right out in the open.”
Ian glanced at Marco with a hint of worry. Yeah, they’d found their bomber, but someone had beaten them to him. So now they were back to square one. No suspects and a still unknown motive. “He was probably hired out and then killed, because either the bomb didn’t work or he could lead us to whoever wants Harper dead.”
Rage boiled within Marco’s veins because he couldn’t beat the hell out of the dead guy for information. “Fuck!”
* * *
Trudging up the stairs to Nick and Jake’s apartment, Marco glanced at his watch. Twelve-forty-eight in the morning. Jeez. He’d called Harper earlier to fill her in on what had happened so she wouldn’t worry when she saw the ‘Breaking News’ on TV. As usual, the media would be broadcasting what they’d scrambled to find out, even if the information wasn’t completely accurate. They tended to act first to scoop other reporters, then backtracked and apologized later, if necessary. He wanted to make sure she knew everyone was all right…well, except the dead bomber.
At the top of the stairs, he placed his hand on the scanner and when the light turned green, he pushed open the door to the apartment. Hopefully by now, the two women and baby were asleep and would stay that way. Instead of going to his own home, he opted to sleep here on the couch. Too bad the guys hadn’t gotten around to adding a spare bed for the third bedroom yet, but that would be fixed by tomorrow night. Silence and a note on the coffee table greeted him.
M— Hi. Hope you’re not too tired. I left a dinner plate in the fridge for you. Just reheat. See you in the morning. H—
He smiled. It felt weird coming home to something like this. The only person in his life who had ever left him a note about dinner had been Nina. He had just pivoted toward the kitchen when an unfamiliar noise caused him to freeze. Just as it registered in his brain, it got louder. Shit! Mara was crying.
Hurrying into the office, he found Harper had installed a nightlight making it easier for him to see. The cries increased in volume and he flipped off the baby monitor to keep her from waking the two women sleeping in the master bedroom. Peeking into the crib, he found Mara red-faced with wet eyes, opening her mouth to let out another wail. “Shhh,” he crooned. “Hush, sweetheart. No crying now. We don’t want to wake your momma or grandma.”
She paused mid-cry and stared up at him, obviously unsure what to make of him interrupting her nighttime routine. Her cries began to alternate with softer whimpers as he leaned a little closer and took a hesitant whiff. “Oh, crap.” He gagged and waved a hand in front of his nose because his statement was meant both figuratively and literally. His first thought was to go get Harper, but then he decided against it. She needed a good night’s sleep after what she’d been through the past few days. “Okay. I don’t suppose you know how to talk me through changing your diaper, do you? Should I call Uncle Brody? No, he’ll laugh at me and bust my chops.” He snapped his fingers, which drew her attention, then pulled his cell from his pocket. “YouTube. There’s got to be a video of this on YouTube, right? Right.”
He brought the website up on his smartphone and quickly did a search for diaper changing. Several videos came up and he picked one where the baby was wearing pink. Mara was still sniffling, but remained focused on the video as Marco held it up so they could both see it. After running through it once, then twice, he looked at her and asked, “So, what do you think? Between you, me, and social media, think we can get you into a clean diaper? I’m game if you are. Let’s give it a shot, all right? Hang on a sec.”
Sorting through the supplies Harper had set up neatly on the desk, he found a new diaper, baby wipes, and a changing pad. He set it all up on the floor, for lack of any other place to do it in the room—this would also ensure Mara couldn’t roll off something and fall. Her cries began to escalate once more, just as he turned to get her. “Shhh. None of that. I’ve got you.”
She calmed a little as he picked her up and then placed her on the floor with the pad under her. As he knelt, a quick thought popped into his head. Grabbing his phone again, he brought up his music playlist and searched for something which would be soothing to her. Choosing “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac, he lowered the volume a little and set the phone next to Mara’s head. Convinced his daughter was satisfied with his choice of music, he returned to the task at hand. With suddenly clumsy fingers, he pulled the tiny zipper of the pink sleeper down her torso and leg, then grimaced. “Whoa, that’s one nasty smelling poop you did, little girl.”
After removing the pajamas, he unsnapped the white onesie. Her little legs kicked as he pulled the tabs of the diaper. He immediately tucked his face into his upper arm and gagged for a moment when the strong odor intensified ten-fold. “Whoa! Shit! I mean…holy cow, girl! Ugh!” Despite his surprise, watering eyes, and curling nose at the mess and stench, he somehow managed to keep his voice down. “Jeez, your Uncle Brody wasn’t freaking kidding. Yucky poo-poo.”
He grabbed a few wipes, then wrapped a hand around both her ankles and gently lifted her legs until her butt was off the dirty diaper. Sliding it from under her and to the side, he shook his head. How the hell could someone so tiny shit this fucking much? It took more wipes than he expected, but he finally got her baby-soft skin nice and clean. With one hand still holding her up, he used his other hand and teeth to spread the new diaper wide, then placed it underneath her. Folding it around her hips like the video had shown, his fingers fumbled with the tabs. Meanwhile, Mara began to smile and giggle, a few bubbles escaping her tiny lips. “Like that, huh? I don’t blame you. All fresh and show-room new. Not that you’re going to be showing your tush off to anyone, if I have a say about it—which I do. But we’ll discuss that when you’re a lot older, okay?” Jeez, if the guys heard me now, they’d be slinging some serious jokes.
It took longer to get her onesie and pajamas back on than it had getting them off since she was now happily thrashing all four limbs, but somehow he managed it. Throwing the used wipes into the diaper, he rolled it up into a ball. “This is going in the garbage in the kitchen and then that’s going out the front door, little girl, because this stuff is toxic.”
“You did that very well.”
Harper’s voice had him glancing over his shoulder. “Hi. How long have you been there? You could’ve lent a hand, you know.”
“You were pretty much done when I got here. I would’ve stepped in to help if needed. How’d you learn to do that?” Dressed in a blue, silk pajama set, she walked in and bent down to lift Mara, as he reached up and put the package of wipes back on the desk.
Standing, he grabbed his phone and held it up for her to see. “YouTube.”
Harper grinned, then started chuckling which had Mara giggling again. “I should have known. Did you just get in?”
“Yeah, and I’m starving.”
Carrying the baby, she headed out the door. “Then come on. You can eat while she does, too.”
Surprisingly, he was looking forward to sharing a meal with his daughter.
CHAPTER 11
When a wave of nausea overtook Kristen, she threw the covers off and ran for the bathroom. She’d heard all about morning sickness, but this was her first bout of it as she hugged the porcelain god. In between her retching, she heard Devon walk in behind her. “Pet, what’s wrong? Okay, stupid question, you’re obviously sick to your stomach.”
Straddling her naked hips and thighs, he pulled her hair out of her way and rubbed her back. “Easy, sweetheart.”
“Ugh. Tell that to my stomach.” She barely managed to get the retort out be
fore her stomach rebelled again. It had been five whole days since she’d found out she was pregnant and she still hadn’t found the right time to tell Devon. Between the club, Trident’s caseload, protecting Harper, Mara, and Karen, and having a conniption about her ex-husband’s lawsuit, it had been a rough and busy week for him. Besides, she’d been trying to come up with a special way to tell him and she’d finally put a plan together. She was going to do it this morning, just as soon as her stomach settled.
It was another few minutes before the rolling nausea subsided and, with Devon’s help, she stood, washed her face and brushed her teeth. Her sweet husband wrapped one arm around her waist and held her arm while escorting her back to bed.
“Climb in and let me see if there’s any of that ginger ale left in the pantry from when Shelby was going through her chemo. It should help settle your stomach.” Shelby Whitman, soon to be Christensen, had started out as one of her beta readers for her novels and then became a good friend. It was thanks to her that Kristen had gone to The Covenant for research before falling in love with one of its owners. Now cancer free, the blonde pixie was planning her own wedding to her Dom, Parker.
“Can I get you anything else?” He retrieved one of his T-shirts out of the dresser, then pulled it over her head, holding open the sleeves so she could put her arms through the holes. She loved when he was in tender Dom mode.
Relaxing back against her pillow, she gave him a small smile. “There are some saltines in there, too. Can you grab some?” Harper had told her to make sure she had some in the house for when the morning sickness started and she was so glad she’d picked a box up yesterday while grocery shopping.
After pulling the covers over her legs and torso, Devon leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You bet I can. I’ll be right back.”
Watching his still naked backside exit their bedroom, she sighed. Damn, the man had a fine, tight ass. When she was sure he was out in the kitchen, she opened her nightstand’s drawer. Sitting inside was the small box she’d wrapped last night with leftover ‘Happy Birthday’ paper from his presents last week. Taking it out, she placed it on his side of the bed.
It was a few minutes before he returned and handed her a glass of ginger ale, with a little ice, and set a plate of crackers on her nightstand. While she took a sip of the soda, he noticed the box next to her. “What’s that?”
“Oh, just one of your presents I forgot to give you for your birthday. Open it.”
Rolling his eyes, he circled the bed, picked up the package and climbed in on his side, lying next to her. “You got me more than enough, Pet, and I loved it all—especially the new toys.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “But you didn’t have to get me anything else.”
She tried to hide her excitement and impatience. “I know. But I saw this and couldn’t resist. Open it.”
“Couldn’t resist, huh?” Sitting up again, he placed a pillow behind his back and leaned against the headboard.
Watching him methodically open the paper, she was ready to take it back from him and rip it off because he was going so slow. Worried her glass of soda was going to go flying in a minute, she put it next to the plate beside her. After the wrapping was gone, Devon lifted the top of the box and stared at the contents in confusion, just as she’d hoped. “Um, two shotgun shells? What…”
She put her hand on his arm and kept her gaze on his face, wanting to see the moment he got it. “Well, I figure, if it’s a boy, you can teach him to shoot…if it’s a girl, you can use them to scare away her boyfriends and teach her to shoot.”
“If it’s a...” His words came out slow and unsure, but then his eyes flew open wider than she’d ever seen them. “Holy shit! Ho-ly…are you kidding me? You’re not kidding me. Please, say you’re not kidding me. You’re…you’re…we’re having a…a baby?”
Grinning, she bobbed her head up and down. “Yes, we’re having a baby!”
“I’m gonna be a…oh my God, I’m gonna be a dad!” He grabbed the covers and tore them off her body, staring at her abdomen, which was still not showing signs of her pregnancy. Pushing up the T-shirt he’d put her in, he placed a trembling hand on the soft swell she’d never been able to get rid of, no matter how much she tried in yoga class with Angie and Kat. “W-when? How far along are you?”
She covered his hand with her own, using her finger to rub his simple, gold, wedding band. “About seven weeks. We’ll get a better idea after my first sonogram next Wednesday.”
“So we have about what…seven and a half months until we meet him or her?” He leaned over and kissed the back of her hand, then moved both his and her hands out of the way, before putting his lips on her abdomen. “You just made me the happiest man in the world, Pet. You’re going to be beautiful carrying our baby and the best mama there ever was or will be.” Shifting, he tilted his head upward. “Kiss me, my baby-mama.”
“With pleasure, my baby-daddy.” She bent down, letting him take possession of her mouth until they were both breathless.
With obvious reluctance, he pulled away. “As much as I want to rock your world right now, I think we should wait until your morning sickness passes. It is morning sickness, right?’
“Yes, I think so. Today is the first day I’ve had it.”
“Then have your ginger ale and crackers while I wrap my brain around this.” He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “Holy shit, we have to call my folks and yours. They’re going to be so excited. The first official grandkid on both sides.” Kristen was an only child and none of the Sawyer brothers had started families yet, even though Jenn called Charles Sawyer, Grandpa Chuck.
Nibbling on a cracker, she took his hand again. “I’ve been thinking about this since I got the news. If it’s a boy, I want to name him John.”
Devon stared at her in shock for a moment, then her big, bad Dom’s eyes filled and he began to cry. Horror smacked her right in the face. “Oh my God, Devon. I’m sorry. I just thought—”
Placing his hands on her cheeks, he pulled her toward him and settled his mouth over hers. It was a tender kiss, salted by his tears, and it almost broke her heart. She thought he would like naming the baby after the brother he’d lost so many years ago. Devon had been a freshman at college when high school senior, John, a closet alcoholic, had died of alcohol poisoning. Devon had John’s initials and dates of birth and death tattooed on his left chest.
He broke their kiss and wiped his wet eyes while still cupping her cheek with his other hand. “Shhh, Pet. You didn’t do anything wrong—far from it. I’m sorry if you thought differently. I love you and I love that you want to name the baby John if it’s a boy. I couldn’t think of a better name. It just hit me all at once.”
Sighing in relief, she turned her head to kiss his palm. “My fault. I should have given you a little time to adjust. We don’t have to commit to any names yet.”
“Nope. If it’s a boy, it’ll be John Devon Sawyer. But what if it’s a girl?”
She was about to answer, but as a wave of nausea hit her again, she slammed her hand over her mouth, leaped from the bed, and made a beeline to the bathroom. Devon was right behind her, pulling her hair back for her once more, as her retching commenced. “That’s okay, Pet. We can think of a girl’s name later.”
* * *
Squatting in front of the outdoor refrigerator in Ian’s Oasis—as the ‘backyard’ of the compound had been dubbed—Marco slid bottles of beer and soda onto the bottom shelves. Around ten this morning, Kristen and Dev had decided to hold an afternoon barbecue for everyone since the eighty-seven-degree temperature was unseasonably warm for the beginning of February, even for Tampa.
The outdoor kitchen was filling up with enough food to feed the small army they were expecting—both Trident teams and their family and friends, in addition to the extra contract guards who were still roaming the compound. Harper, Kat, Angie, and Kristen were sorting through grocery bags, putting things either in bowls or leaning over him to store perishables on the u
pper shelves. Parker, Tiny, and Mitch were stacking some firewood Parker had brought with him for the fire pit for when the expected cooler weather rolled in later in the evening. On the far end of the area that Angie had designed for her fiancé, where the koi pond was with its waterfall, sat Karen and Boomer’s parents, Rick and Eileen Michaelson. In another sitting area, Jenn, Shelby, and Alyssa Wagner, the Michaelsons’ charge, were taking turns holding and entertaining a giggling Mara. Beau and Parker’s dog, Spanky, a huge bullmastiff, were at their feet, keeping watch over the tiny new addition to their group of favorite humans. Others would be arriving shortly.
It had been days since Rodgers had been found dead in his apartment. There had been enough evidence at the crime scene to say with certainty that the long-time criminal had been the person who’d planted the bomb at Harper’s. Unfortunately, that was all they were able to confirm. Who he’d been working with or for, and the motive behind the attacks on Harper were still a mystery. The team had been working with the police, trying to come up with a suspect from the list Harper had given them after going through her files the other day. To Marco’s exasperation, though, she was still refusing to give them any names from her Friends of Patty cases, which had resulted in a ‘disappearance’. She’d only given them a few names where the women still lived in the area, and their abusive husbands or boyfriends were behind bars for a long time. He understood her refusal to turn over the other names, even though it was frustrating has hell.
As for how things were going between the two of them, that was just as maddening for him. Being around Mara all the time now had been a bit of an eye-opener for him. He no longer panicked when she needed to be fed, changed, or just held. She was definitely growing on him…and so was her mother. But things between Harper and him seemed to be in some sort of holding pattern. There was no denying the attraction was still there, but their lifestyles were so different. Could he change? He wasn’t sure. Did she even want him to change? Again, that was an unknown. After the threat against her was taken care of, maybe he’d sit down and examine if there could be some sort of compromise between them. Until then, he’d continue sleeping on the new bed in Jake and Nick’s spare room, and taking cold showers.
Watching From The Shadows: Trident Security Book 5 Page 11