by Hazel Grace
For the most part, Briar is on a two-hour schedule with wanting to eat and she hates being bundled up, enjoying her feet poking from the bottom of her blanket.
Stormi is the calmer of the two—shocker—when Briar cries, Marty is like a rocket to check and assume something is always wrong.
After two weeks, he’s beginning to get the hang of it. Usually, he is quick to learn but with Briar, he’s meticulous and doubtful that he will do something reprehensible or worse.
Bishop drops by to see Briar when I’m not there, but my visits are becoming far and in between because Alexander and I have been busy planning our own nest. And I’m overwhelmed and nervous. Marty is rubbing off on me.
“Emmy!” Alexander’s voice ricochets out in my living room.
“Over here!” I hear him start towards me on the hardwood floors and to the second bedroom that I plan on making the nursery. “Be careful coming in, I have shit everywhere.”
“Do you ever stop?” I glance over to see his shoulder propped along the doorway, arms crossed as he watches me folding baby clothes that we’ve bought already.
He doesn’t look angry but exasperated that I can’t seem to chill for five seconds.
I shrug against his scolding and the sexy navy suit he’s wearing. “All I can think about is paint colors and how I don’t want them to be pastel. I want something…I don’t know. I thought maybe coming in here would help inspire me.”
“Did it help?”
I wrinkle my nose and pick up another onesie, carefully folding it into its new place. “No.”
“Babe, we still have time.” Alexander moves, striding over boxes and bags. “Did you eat?”
“Um…yeah, some time ago.”
Hours ago.
“How about I order something and you chill on the baby stuff tonight.” Long arms wrap around my stomach from behind me and nestle me into Alexander’s body.
“Does that chilling start now or when the food gets here?”
Alexander chuckles and kisses my temple. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
Releasing me, I hear some bags rustle as he makes his way out, but he causes the whole room to halt with his following comment.
“Then can you tell me all there is to know about a man named Chung-Ho Gwan?”
My brows immediately knit as my skin prickles in warning. “What?”
I turn to face him, locating him in the middle of the room with a blank expression on his face.
“You work for the United States government and I’m curious about the protocol for dealing in goods with other countries.”
My brain doesn’t fully compute what the fuck he’s even saying.
It’s not Alexander to make odd and out-of-the-ballpark jokes. Why in the hell would he need to learn about a North Korean man who deals in nuclear weapons, gas bombs, and futuristic warfare?
Red flags slowly begin to wave in my head, and my instincts know better. They see the signs, but they’re coming up with other alternatives and guesses about what he could possibly want to be educated on when it comes to Chung-Ho.
B723 has been hunting him down for well over a decade but Ledger refuses to let us set foot in North Korea. When Wade was President, he sent a Navy SEALs team to extract him from the country for prosecution, but they never returned.
Not many men and women know about Gwan. So my boyfriend bringing up a man that we’ve been half-ass hunting for years and waiting to step foot outside the threshold of his country isn’t normal dinner conversation.
“Gonna need you to be more specific there, Alexander,” I state through my teeth, attempting to sound at ease without the tenseness of my body sinking into my voice.
“I had a meeting with a colleague today.”
“Who?”
“Senator Evans.”
“A politician?” I pull myself and my paranoia back, twisting my voice to sound curious. “Since when do you meet with such company?” Alexander’s darkening gaze falls on the crib that is half-built, seeming to zone out of our conversation, or he’s ignoring me. So I turn it to sound teasing. “Most of them are boring, believe me.”
“I’ll finish that,” he says flatly. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. There are too many pieces.”
No, there’s not.
“Alrighty.” I compose myself not to rip the onesie in half that I have in my hands.
“What did you want to eat?” He flicks his focus back to me, finding me standing there as patiently as I can. “Lemme guess, you wanna finish your work?”
I nod, and he smiles. The one that used to make me blush because it’s so perfect and nearly unfair to most of the population.
Alexander extends his arms for me to walk into them, and I comply even though I don’t want to.
Something is telling me to not take this lightly.
Chung-Ho Gwan is not a name passed around the dinner table. He’s allusive, dangerous, and not on many people’s radar.
“We’ll eat and finish tonight, deal?”
“Sounds good.”
“And we can talk over dinner.”
And we’re back…
“Why are you holding me so tightly?” He promptly releases me, possibly realizing that he fucked up or set up an alarm that he could’ve kept from sounding.
Except I’m not some secretary that works for a governor and served a President of the United States like he believes I have.
I’m a fucking assassin that has taken more men and women down than he has standing behind him on a daily basis.
I gradually put some space between us and turned to face my boyfriend, wearing his cheap smile that I never noticed before.
Maybe it’s faux because I’m tipped off to some bullshit that Alexander got himself into or wanted all along. And now I’m curious about what he’s done, so I play it as cool as possible.
“Now, what is this about?” I ask, giving myself some space between us. “Who is this Chung-Ho—what was the last name?” I dawn ignorance because it’s the best policy to avoid this conversation and get my bearings.
“I was just speaking with Senator Evans this evening, and he mentioned funding his campaign while offering me a position.”
“In politics?”
“Something like that.” I don’t get to answer because he continues rambling. “My brother is a congressman in—“
“What?”
What the hell?
I didn’t know he had a brother in Congress. He just suggested he was always busy and never got to speak with him.
Maybe if you would’ve asked more questions…
“Yeah, babe, I told you. In New Hampshire.”
I shake my head. “No, I would’ve caught on to that.”
“Might’ve been when you were falling asleep.”
As reasonable as that sounds, I feel like that comment would’ve woken me up. I didn’t want my home life to be involved in politics even though Wade was governor; that’s as far as I’d let it in.
“Anyway, my brother, Warren, is wanting to be put on the Republican ballot for President in the future. So I’ve been playing nice with politicians who I’ve helped run stocks and IRAs for.”
“What does that have to do with that guy?”
“Do you know him?” He lifts a brow, and I shake my head.
“Never heard of him.”
“Damn—“ He rubs the slight stubble along his jaw. “—he’s a dangerous dude.”
I step closer. “Why? Is your brother in trouble?”
“He mentioned that he’s been approached by a group of men who wanted to sell him nuclear weapons. To get into the black market of—“
“That’s insane. You have to tell him no.”
Alexander hits me with a no-shit look. “Emmy, I know. But he’s the oldest child. He’s an asshole. He wants alliances with many powerful people, Americans and the like.”
“But if this gets out, it’d ruin him.”
“He’s pretty adamant on this.”
“Has your family been threatened?”
Alexander shakes his head then slowly stops. “I mean…there are always threats. We’re a powerful family. You know how the rich work with their jealousy and need for ultimate power.”
I shrug. “I don’t have access—“
“No, no—“ Alexander steps closer, setting the hairs on my arms on end. “—I’m not asking you for nukes or the codes for things like that. My brother would like to speak with him.”
I would ask him why but he’s not going to tell me. He wouldn’t want me to worry.
However, his brother is a fucking moron. Getting involved with Chung-Ho Gwan would get him on the radar of any country that’s hunting him down.
“You’re scaring me,” I state honestly but not for the reasons that are continuing to sink in his head. My hands find my stomach, and Alexander follows my motion with his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I don’t want to keep anything from you.”
“He doesn’t sound like a safe man, Alex. I think your brother should stay away. It’ll cause too much unnecessary press for him and if someone else finds out…it won’t be good.“
And now my boyfriend’s brother is on my radar.
I’ll be sure to make sure Warren doesn’t get on any ballot.
“Let’s drop it.” Alexander breaks his focus off me and relaxes his shoulders. “It was a stupid question.”
I scoff. “Yeah, one that you have my full attention on.”
He slowly brings his dark browns to me, but I’ve dealt with worse. “I said, let’s drop it.” My jaw constricts before I feel the babies kicking.
Placing my palm on the skin that separates me from my children, one of them kicks at it.
I take silent comfort in the movement, knowing that they must feel my stress coursing through my frame and my accelerated heartbeat.
“How many weeks are you?”
It sounds like a simple question, right? Something someone would ask you in passing or just out of curiosity. But I hear the serving purpose of the question and understand that this man in front of me is country first and family second.
“Twenty-eight.”
A slow smile forms along his handsome features. “Good.” He motions with his hand. “Come, let’s get you something to eat before the babies eat you alive.”
I walk past him to get downstairs and to my phone. I need to text Ledger and get this information out to him.
If Chung-Ho is initiating deals with someone in our own country, the wrong hands will eventually get things they’re not supposed to have and possibly use them one day.
A piercing pain radiates off my right side and my hand immediately goes to it, just to come back with blood along my inner fingers.
I whip around, locating Alexander with what appears to be an eight-inch blade coming down to swing at me again. I move to the side but he knicks my bicep, and I feel the sharp metal slice through my shirt and flesh.
My right hand comes around to slam into the side of his face and Alexander staggers backward—surprised.
Yeah, motherfucker, I’m not just an assistant.
The blade thrust forward, almost getting to…my babies. My brows deepen at Alexander.
My Alexander.
The man who said he was going to give the babies and me everything.
The man who reminds me every day of how much he loves me.
The same one who just tried to shank me and believe I was going to stand around and take it.
“What the fuck!” I holler out, the color of red outlining my vision. “Are you fucking insane?!”
“You have a big mouth, Emmy. I’m not going to be interrogated by my wife.” He swings his weapon again at me, but he’s predictable and slow, and it’s easy for me to dodge.
“Your wife? I’m not your fucking wife, asshole!” Recognition dawns on him, like he’s convinced himself so many times that I was, then believed it. He talks about it here and there, but we’ve never gone into depth.
Thank fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I leer through my clenched jaw. “Did you think we were going to live in the 1950’s? I wasn’t allowed to give my say?”
“Not at all,” he glowers. “But I see the condemning and judgy look in your eyes.”
“I think it’s safe to say we’re done.” I begin to slowly back away, on the ready for him to jump me again.
“Done?” Alexander looks flabbergasted that I would even voice such a fucking thing. “I love you, Emmy, what makes you think I’d let you go?”
“Oh, great—“ I shake my head and back myself towards the door. “—you’re delusional. This will be fun.”
“Emmy—“ Before he can even finish, I’m turning and starting for the door. I try to keep myself steady so that I don’t fall, but I can hear Alexander right on my toes and the sharp pain that hits my shoulder.
I know he got me again, but I don’t have the time to stop.
I clear the kitchen and swipe my cell off the island but drop it when Alexander’s hand knocks it out of mine.
His arms loop around my center, and I thrust my elbow back, hitting him in the ribs but it doesn’t stop what he’s already planned in his head.
His knife comes down and through my stomach before a strangled and panicked cry leaves my lips.
I try to grab his weapon to save all three of us but he’s strong. I can feel the stab wound at my side screaming in pain as I clamp down on my teeth.
This is life or death.
This is my babies and me.
For the slightest of seconds, my mind goes to Bishop and how he told me to get rid of him.
It fleets the moment I catch the bottom of Alexander’s chin when I jerk my head back and get him to halt his next pendulum swing on my torso.
I whirl around with closed fists and hit anywhere on his body that will semi-inflict him with what he has just done to me.
My height works against me, and not only that, but now I’m the size of a growing house with not just me to protect but two unborn babies who don’t deserve to be here with me.
A handgun shows up in Alexander’s left hand, and my immediate attention falls to it.
It’s my first mistake of many tonight.
While trying to hit it out of his hand, he moves around with the knife and knicks my side. He comes back to stab one more time before pistol-whipping me in the face.
My vision blurs, but I try to stay fastened to consciousness. I need to because no one is fighting for my children but me.
“The moment I said I was falling in love with you,” Alexander snides through a satanic tone. “Is the moment you signed on to being mine forever. And not only did you give me two babies but a future.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter weakly before my focus begins to diminish.
Oh, no, no, no.
I see Alexander smile again.
“I will.”
“Hold on, Ems.” A large hand crushes mine as my body jolts, sending a sober shot of pain throbbing through my frame. I moan involuntarily as I crack my eyes open to blinding white light above. “We’re gonna make it, hold on.”
Hold on.
I blink and turn my head to the right, finding Mills hovering above me, his face twisted in transparent fear and anguish.
I remember him showing up at the house, but I don’t recall much after that.
His fingers brush away hair from my forehead as he still tightly clutches my hand.
“We’re gonna have babies,” he says, trying to sound excited. “You’ll finally get to meet them.”
My brows furrow in another wave of discomfort as each inhale and exhale causes a tight pain to reside in my belly.
Alexander stabbed me.
The babies.
“Mills,” I whisper, my voice strained. “I need you.”
He nods his head furiously. “I’m here. I’m going to call—“
“No!” I shake my head and squeeze his hand tighter, terror ripping through me as much a
s the pain. “Listen to me…I don’t have much time.”
“Ems, you’re not going to die.” His boyish features harden along with his clenched jaw and I wish I could tell him to chill. “You are not going to—“
“Shut up, and listen.” My stomach clenches at the strain I just put on it from trying to make my voice sound more assertive. “We’re going to need to move quickly.”
“Okay…what do you need—anything.”
“Where is Alexander?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. You didn’t tell me. Do you want me to—“
“Sir, we’re going to need you to leave,” a female voice chimes in between our vital conversation. “Unless the young lady wants you to stay.”
“We need a minute.” My voice doesn’t come out as anything but muttered through my anguish and the kicks from my babies.
Something is wrong, and they’re telling me.
“A minute,” Mills says louder for me. “Two minutes.”
“But sir—“
“You’re wasting my two fucking minutes,” he snaps. She must leave because he bends forward a little to get closer to me. “What do you need, Lou Boo?”
“I need you to be the father on the birth certificate.”
His face contorts. “You need me to do what now?” I hit him with an exasperated and exhausted look. “Um…Ems, I’m not the daddy.”
“I need you to be.”
“Uh…” He averts his eyes from me, looking for something before returning. “We’ll talk about that later. We need to get you—“
“Two minutes, no time. Alexander tried to kill me. He can’t take the kids.”
Mills’s grayish-blues expand then narrow. “What the fuck?” His cell appears in his hand next, and I squeeze his palm tighter, gaining his focus again.
Blackness edges my vision of my best friend, and I try to breathe through my mouth.
“Mills…” My jaw trembles because I can’t control how scared I am.
I did all this wrong.
If something happens to me, I never got to tell Bishop how much I love him.
“I’m here,” Mills quickly asserts. “I’m here, Ems.”
“Don’t tell anyone…I’m here. Throw me under a fake name.”
“I did.” He bobs his head up and down. “You told me to do that in the car when I drove you here.”