Lieutenant

by Lesli Richardson

  But dehydration and starving, the stress and trauma, drinking less than pure water, eating what we did—I’m not getting my hopes up.

  I especially don’t want to get Owen’s hopes up, because losing this baby will crush him.

  I am hopeful, however, that even if I do lose the baby, maybe it means we can keep trying. I’d started to think it’d never happen. Honestly? I was convinced it wasn’t happening. Not after, what, nearly four years of it not happening? I was hyper-focused on getting re-elected, and looking forward to my own campaign run, getting myself positioned for it.

  I also hate myself for thinking if I do lose the baby that I need to make sure that gets leaked for maximum sympathy factor.

  The politician is eager to climb back in the saddle.

  Me?

  Not so much.

  Not until I have Owen in my arms and know he’s okay. Yeah, I’m fucking superstitious, but the next plane crash I’m in, I want my men with me, if only to feel comforted knowing we’ll be together for eternity.

  I’m not looking forward to flying home. Oh, I’m looking forward to getting home, but flying’s going to suck balls.

  It’s actually going to take both of my men to get me on a motherfucking airliner cruising over open water. I would have said they could knock my ass out with good drugs, but mommy’s little case of indigestion makes that impossible now.

  Carter leans in and his free hand gently settles over my tummy. I’m painfully aware how thin I am.

  I’d kill for a damn Cuban sandwich. Any sandwich. But I’m on a very strict clear liquid diet, until they can transition me to the next stage. It would suck to survive what I did and die because I wanted a goddamned cheeseburger.

  Mmmm. Cheeeeeeseburger…

  He stares into my eyes for a long moment before he speaks. “I’ll only ask this once—”

  “We’re not pulling out of the race, Carter. We’re fucking doing this.” I hit the button to raise the head of my bed. “We worked too goddamned hard for this. You think I’m not using this to leverage us into a win? Fuck that shit. I am my father’s daughter, and we are running Tallahassee for the next twelve years. If I can’t pull off a win for myself after Owen’s second term after all of this? Then I don’t fucking deserve to be governor.”

  He studies me for a long time before finally nodding. “All right, pet,” he quietly says. “But please figure out how to say that in a much gentler way to Owen when he gets here, huh?”

  He’s absolutely right.

  The bastard smirks, and I can’t help but smile. We really are perfect together, all three of us. I wish we could both marry Owen, too, but at least he’s happy to be owned by us.

  I’m not much of a praying kind of person, even after all this, but I do hope our baby makes it, if for no other reason than I know it will make Owen the happiest man on planet Earth, with Carter a close second.

  And seeing them smile is truly one of my reasons for living.

  Especially after what I just survived.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Owen

  Where’s a TARDIS when you really need one, huh? I think changing my clothes helped prevent me being recognized. Jeans, a T-shirt, sneakers, and my favorite Lightning baseball cap, one Carter gave to me years ago, when we were still in college.

  The entire way over from the States, and then again on my flight from Manila, my right thumb rubs against the blue band on my right ring finger, the Doctor Who ring Carter gave to me the day I was sworn in as governor. My left rubs the band on my left finger, the ring Susa gave me.

  Fuck my job.

  I’ll give it all up if it means we have Susa back.

  Fuck the plan. Fuck everything except Her.

  As our flight closes in on our destination, I struggle not to nervously tap my foot or do any number of annoying things to burn off my increasingly frantic energy.

  A million anxiety-fueled scenarios are racing through my mind. That it turns out it really wasn’t her after all, and somehow, it was a horrible mistake. Or that she’s died while I was in the air, mere minutes before I go running through her hospital room door.

  That I don’t get to tell her in person one more time how much I love her.

  Fuck the election, fuck everything else—I want my Susa, and I want her in my arms, and not another goddamned thing matters to me right now.

  They can quote me on that, if they want. I don’t fucking care.

  Goddamned Kevin Markos can point a camera in my face and I’ll happily flip him birds with both hands and tell him to happily fuck himself on a rusty pitchfork.

  Without lube.

  There are government officials waiting for me when I emerge from the plane after flight attendants make sure I disembark first, and they hurry me through customs and into an awaiting SUV for the drive with a police escort.

  I can’t even be bothered to pay attention to what is, admittedly, a beautiful country.

  Nothing matters until I put eyes and lips and hands and every other body part possible on Her.

  Carter is awaiting me when the hospital’s elevator door opens on her floor, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to burst into relieved tears to see him. He grabs me in a quick, wordless hug, then takes my hand and rushes with me down a couple of corridors, leading me to a private room, where he closes the door behind us.

  The blinds are already drawn on the corridor windows, and we’re alone. Susa looks at me at the sound of our entrance, and she’s sunburned, her face swollen, her hair a wreck—but it’s Her.

  This is when I burst into tears and check out for a little while as I climb into bed with her, sobbing as I hold her and she whispers to me, and I tell her over and over again how much I love her, all while Carter leans in from behind me to hold both of us.

  I unabashedly weep. Even if I had a thousand cameras pointed in my face I couldn’t stop myself right now.

  She.

  Is.

  Alive.

  I’m lying there with her frail, gaunt frame tucked against me and her head in the crook of my arm when Carter finally speaks.

  “We need to talk, buddy.”

  “Why?”

  He changes sides, walking around the bed so he can look me in the eyes without me craning my neck around at an odd angle. He smiles as he lays a hand on my cheek and leans in, kissing me. “Susa’s pregnant.”

  Rage washes through me. “What? Who fucking did it? I’ll fucking kill them my-goddamned-self! I’ll—”

  It’s Carter’s rolling laughter that shuts down my anger, followed by Susa’s soft giggle.

  “What?” Fuck, the bastard extraordinaire can’t be so goddamned callous and cruel that he’s…laughing? “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny! Who raped her?”

  Carter’s now laughing so hard that tears are rolling down his face. He has to brace one arm on the bed to support him, because he can barely stand. He hooks the other around my head and pulls me in for a deep, confusing—to me—kiss.

  “It’s yours, dummy!” he says.

  Susa clears her throat with a warning tone I know all too well.

  “No, pet, in this case, it’s totally warranted.” Carter smiles at me. “She’s pregnant with our baby. Yours, ours—you. Dumbass.”

  He’s…he’s got to be fucking with me…right? It’s been, what, the better part of four years since she went off the pill, and I’ve fucked her in nearly every position mentioned in the Kama Sutra, and a few that weren’t, and…

  “Really? I whisper.

  Susa reaches up and tangles her fingers in my hair. “Want me to beat Sir for you for calling you a dumbass? I will. Just ask me.”

  I’m laughing even as I’m crying again. “We’re going to have a baby?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Owen,” Carter snarks. “Sheesh. That didn’t go the way I thought it would.”

  “But…but it’s been so long, and…” I don’t even know where to go from there so I let it die off into
silence.

  “It happened,” Carter said. “Just our luck on the timing, I suppose.” He sighs. “We’re going to need to have a lot of tests done, watch her carefully. Don’t… I don’t want you to think this is a sure thing, yet. All right?”

  I nod, but now I’m staring down into Susa’s eyes. “I’ll announce I’m going to pull out of the race when we get home, and—OW!”

  She’s grabbed my ear and is painfully twisting it, pulling me down close to her face, so close I feel her breath against my cheeks.

  “Listen to me,” she says, full-on Ma’am mode engaged. “You are not pulling out of that race. We’re still running, I’m still your lieutenant governor, and we’re going to fucking win. We’re going to try to keep this secret until after the election. The plan is still in effect. This changes nothing.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Owen. I’m serious. We’re running.”

  My hand settles over her tummy. She feels like a sack of bones, and that makes me heartsick on numerous levels, but within her…our baby.

  My baby.

  Even if we’re the only three who will ever know the truth.

  I’m going to be a dad.

  Me!

  I look up at Carter when she finally releases my ear. “Sir?”

  He’s standing there, that smirk on his face, and his arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t look at me,” he says. “I’m just the governor’s chief of staff. I’m out-ranked.”

  But he can’t hold it. The smirk turns into a full-on grin.

  I stare down into her eyes. They’re red and bloodshot and fucking gorgeous.

  More gorgeous than anything I’ve ever seen.

  “Yes, Mrs. Evans.”

  She smiles. “Good boy.”

  * * * *

  I finally get over to see Connie a few hours later. She’s in far better shape than Susa. Her sons are with her, and I lean in to give her a hug.

  She starts crying. “She saved me.”

  I haven’t heard the whole story. Carter told me snippets, but I didn’t even process most of it. I was too busy staring at Susa and imagining her pregnant with our baby.

  “I’m so sorry about Mike.”

  She grabs my hand and squeezes. “She put the oxygen mask on me, and got my life vest on me, and got me out of the plane, and gave me crabs.”

  Her sons burst out laughing.

  “Um…crabs?”

  “Crabs. On the island. She was the first one to see them. She couldn’t eat much, so she’d give me hers to eat.”

  “Oh! Crabs.”

  “And water. She made me drink. I…I would have died if it wasn’t for her.”

  I gently squeeze her hand. “I’m glad you both made it. It’s a miracle.”

  She nods. “I think I might want to resign my post, though.”

  I laugh. “You know workman’s comp will pick this all up, right?”

  She finally smiles. “You’re going to win, you know. If she can get us home again, she’s going to get you re-elected.”

  I nod. “I tried to talk her into us both quitting, and she said no.”

  “Probably was a lot more profane than that, on her part, knowing her.” She smiles.

  “It was.”

  We chat for a few minutes longer, then I go talk to Governor George Forrester. I knock on the open door and the man sitting next to the man in the bed looks up.

  “Governor Forrester?” I ask.

  “That’s what they tell me,” the guy in the bed says.

  “Owen Taylor.” I walk in and shake his hand. Carter’s told me a little bit about what Susa went through, and the personal information she and this man exchanged.

  No, I don’t begrudge that he held her, comforted her.

  Ordered her to drink.

  At least when she was close to giving up, maybe he helped keep her alive when she wouldn’t have made it otherwise.

  I had to, at the very least, meet this man and shake his hand.

  The other man stands. “I’ll run get some coffee, George.”

  “Thanks,” Forrester says.

  The guy closes the door behind him.

  I sit in the vacated chair. “My chief of staff told me we have you to thank for helping to keep our lieutenant governor going.”

  He sits up a little in bed. “You guys are really lucky.” He meets my gaze. “She loves both of you so damn much.” He tears up. “Ellen would have loved to have known her.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Yeah, well, the main thing I’m thankful for is that she literally didn’t know what hit her.” He sadly smiles. “And I’m grateful for Susa. Once we can all think and breathe and are safely back on solid ground, you’d better believe I’m going to record some campaign ads for you guys, even if I have to form my own PAC to do it. And when she runs for governor. And whatever other office she runs for. I’ll strong-arm the GOP in my state to toss money her way however I have to.”

  I honestly have no clue what to say. “Um…thank you.”

  “I know. It’s weird talking politics right now, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She and I are a lot alike, I think. I was going to run for governor, once this term was up. I think my chances just got a lot better.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, probably.”

  He drops his voice. “You’re lucky men,” he says again. “And no, nothing she told me that’s personal will ever be repeated by me. We kind of have…” He sadly smiles. “I guess I have a lot in common with Carter.”

  “They told me.” I shake with him again. “Thank you, Governor. And any runs you make, I’ll be happy to help you out, too. And get Benchley Evans to pitch in.”

  “George. And that’s a deal.” He studies me for a long moment. “She did tell me y’all are trying to have a baby. I hope that works out for you.”

  I snort, rubbing the back of my neck. “We still off the record?”

  He nods.

  I shrug. “Nothing’s for certain right now. It’s still soon. But looks like maybe there’s a reason she was throwing up. Only time will tell if everything’s okay and it makes it.”

  His eyes widen, tearing up again, and he sits up to hug me, both of us crying now. “Congratulations, Dad. If anyone can pull this off, she can.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Boy, do I.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Susa

  It’s two weeks before they feel safe discharging me and Connie. I’ve regained three pounds and while it’s recommended I don’t hit an all-you-can-eat buffet, I’m allowed to eat soft foods as I can tolerate them.

  Mmmm. Pudding.

  They said in another week I can progress to other things. Meanwhile, I can drink protein shakes and things like that.

  Owen’s slept in bed with me every night. He was going to let Carter sleep in my bed, but Carter, that soft-hearted bastard, ordered Owen to do it.

  Fuck, did I mention how much I love these men of mine?

  I don’t know how Carter, Dray, and Daddy spun the story so it’s not suspicious that Owen stayed with me that long, but they did it. I guess having Connie here helped. The public’s been eating up the info released at every daily briefing, where they report how we’re doing.

  Hell, more people are asking about us than the usual legislative shit they ask about.

  The politician in me is howling with the scent of victory in the air.

  The Ma’am, wife, pet, and mother-to-be will simply be glad to get home.

  Allen, Collin, and George left the hospital three days ago.

  George stopped by one more time to say good-bye and give me a hug. He’d gotten a shave and a haircut and looked a lot better than he did when we were pulled off that rock. I know my men have talked with him several times, and there will likely be visits back and forth with all of us, campaigning for each other, and just sitting around as friends.

  Because, come on, the man likes Monty Python. How bad can he
be?

  He also privately whispered congratulations in my ear as he hugged me, so I know either Carter or Owen spilled the beans to him.

  Daddy doesn’t know yet, and I’m not actually looking forward to telling him.

  I’m afraid he might want to make me pull from the race, and wouldn’t be shocked if he threatens to ratfuck us somehow if I refuse.

  We go straight from the hospital to the airport, to an awaiting charter flight. From there to Manilla, then to LAX.

  In LA, Carter and Owen roll me off the airplane and down the jetway in a wheelchair. We’re taken off first, along with Connie, and surrounded by officials, but my men refuse to let anyone else help with me or our stuff. Owen’s carrying our bags, and Carter’s pushing me. One of Connie’s sons is pushing her in another wheelchair.

  We emerge from the jetway into a Customs area, where we’re processed in what is probably record time before we’re escorted out into a crowded terminal full of press, cameras, and people who explode into cheers and applause at our appearance.

  Goddammit, Daddy. I don’t even have any fucking makeup on, and I look like shit.

  I should have known he’d do this.

  I mean, yeah, I get it. Senator Benchley Evans is nothing if not pragmatic when it comes to politics.

  Still, I would have preferred a private welcome.

  Carter leans in and whispers in my ear. “Sorry, pet. I asked him not to do this.”

  When I catch Daddy’s eye before he’s allowed to walk over to us, I spot his wink.

  Goddammit.

  It’s been over seven weeks since I’ve seen my parents, and I don’t know if it’s because my perspective was forcibly shifted, or because the stress of my ordeal aged them in record time, but they both look incredibly frail compared to when I last saw them.

  Owen looks about two breaths from tears. I hope Carter can figure out a way to get him alone to calm him down. Despite how aggravated I am at Daddy, I’ve given up trying not to cry as I hug him and Momma, even though I hate crying in public.

  It’s emotions, it’s hormones, it’s…everything.

  I’d finally convinced myself dying wasn’t the worse thing in the world, right before we were rescued.