by May Gordon
I give her one last kiss before settling us in a comfortable position. I rest my hand on her belly and place her head on my chest. For the first time in eight months, I feel the pieces of my broken heart start to mend, my soul finally settles, and I'm at peace again. And God help anyone who tries to break us apart a second time.
Chapter 16
Annabelle
I wake up to the sweet sensation of kisses on my belly. I feel the baby kick hard followed by a deep chuckle from Foster. I smile, still not opening my eyes, and hear him whisper sweet things that make my heart feel full. When I look down, Foster is laying on his side, his hand firmly on my giant belly.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” I say feeling emotional. These baby hormones are getting to me.
He crawls up my body and kisses me breathless. “I love you,” he says and I smile.
“I love you too,” I tell him, feeling the baby again.
“They’r active,” he says with a grin, putting his hand back on my belly.
I give him a small smile and tell him, “It’s a boy.” His eyes go wide, and he can't hide the pure joy covering his face. He looks proud, and I can't control my grin. “You're happy?” I stupidly ask.
“Angel, I'm fucking ecstatic, you can't even comprehend how happy I am,” he says as he takes my face in his hands and starts kissing me again.
It gets hot and heavy, and we eventually move to the bathroom where he makes love to me on the counter, followed by a shower together. Having him touch and kiss every inch of me helps erase some of the stress and loneliness. Once we’re clean, Foster helps dry me off, then sits me on the bed and brushes my hair until its dry. The silence between us as he does is comfortable, peaceful. I try to tell him he doesn’t need to do all this as he helps me get dressed, that I’ve done it on my own for months now. It’s meant as a joke, but his face quickly darkens, not liking the reminder of all he’s missed.
“Well, you’ll fucking never be alone again,” he vows.
I smile and nod, letting him help me put my pants on. After we’re dressed, we make our way downstairs. It’s nine-thirty in the morning and I get to see the beautiful Chicago city from the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse.
“Morning,” I turn toward Porter’s voice, seeing two other men sitting at the kitchen table with coffee.
“Morning,” I say shyly.
I feel Foster’s arm cover my shoulders as he walks us to the table where he pulls out a chair. I sit down awkwardly, so big and pregnant every little task is hard.
“Angel, I’d like you to meet Duke and Griffin. Of course, you know Porter.”
“Guys, this is Annabelle Glen.” He places a hand on my belly and adds, “And Foster Junior.”
“You're having a boy?” Duke asks, sounding excited.
“Fuck yeah we are,” Foster says with a shit eating grin. The guys breakout in congratulations then Foster tells me, “I’ll get you breakfast, angel.” He kisses my lips and asks, being the sweet man I know he is, “Anything make you sick?”
“I’m eight months pregnant, I’ll eat anything and everything,” I tease, making him laugh.
“I called in breakfast so there are tons of options,” Porter says.
He comes back with a massive plate and I’m almost ashamed to say I could probably eat every bite. Foster sits next to me, drinking some coffee. With me situated, Foster dives in.
“I have one mission now, find and capture Arnold,” he says, deathly serious.
The three men glance at me, probably to see if Foster’s words bothered me, but I’m too busy enjoying the pastries and chocolate milk.
“You don’t want him dead?” Griffin asks.
“I do, but it’ll be a very slow and painful death,” Foster growls. “And I have a long list of torture techniques I want to use.”
Again, the three men look at me, like they should be guarded with what they say. “What?” I finally ask, their looks annoying me and interrupting my breakfast.
Duke, who seems to be a shoot from the hip guy, makes sense as he’s from Texas after all, asks Foster, “How much does she know?” while looking at me.
“Everything,” I answer with a shrug answering his question.
“And it doesn’t bother you?” He asks for clarification.
“That Foster wants to slowly kill the man responsible for making me think he was dead and separating us for eight months?” I pause and pretend to think. “Yeah, that’d be a no,” I say taking another bite of my food.
They chuckle at my answer and go back to talking. After some discussion, Foster pulls out his phone and calls Jace and Cole. I say hi and they sound emotional, happy I’m alive. I missed them too. Once the pleasantries are out of the way, the guys tell us that thanks to everyone cracking down, Arnold and his army are spread thin, not only in capital but men as well. Whoever Arnold works for should be pretty fed up with him at this rate, even after years of excellent service.
“Do you have any results for me?” Foster growls
“Yeah, boss,” Cole says. “I finally hacked the fucker and found out where he is.”
“Why do you sound so grim?” I ask. Shouldn’t he be happy about this?
“He’s in Chicago,” he states and Foster’s body goes on high alert.
“Why the fuck is he here?” He shouts.
“He’s tracking Anna?” Porter suggests. “Maybe he doesn’t know you’re here.”
“Fuck!” Foster yells getting up and pacing the length of the glass windows.
I know he’s worried. He thought he’d hunt him, but Arnold being in the same city I’m in puts him on edge.
“Porter, do you have a safe house?” He stops and asks him.
“Yeah, out of the city,” Porter confirms.
“And a doctor on the payroll?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, first things first, we need to take Annabelle, the doctor, and a small army to protect her,” he says. “Jace and Cole, arrange to come here and bring the top crew members. I’ll call the others.” The guys agree and end the call.
“Foster, I’m not going to a safe house,” I argue. We just got reunited and he wants to send me away.
“You are,” he states in his no nonsense tone.
“No,” it comes out like a whine.
“Enough!” he yells and I'm shocked into silence. He storms over to me and drops to his knees in front of me. “Angel, I couldn’t survive losing you again.” His voice is soft, full of emotion. “And we have a child to protect now. If I lost either of you, I’d die.” His confession subdues me and I place my hands over his. I’ve been running for eight months but with Foster here, I know he’ll protect me. I’m so pregnant I should be taking it easy anyway. I know he loves me and this child, all he wants is us safe and sound.
“Okay,” is all I say.
He gives me a hard kiss, not giving a shit about the three men watching us like we’re a daytime soap opera.
“Thank you, angel,” he says, relieved. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he whispers.
“I forgive you,” I tell him with a small smile.
With that settled, I finished my breakfast, and the men make the necessary calls. Foster gathers my bags, and before I know it, we’re in three different SUVs heading toward one of Porter’s safe houses in Springfield, which is a few hours from the city. I feel so sleepy after what feels like a dozen orgasms and all the pastries I ate. I stupidly think this whole ordeal is wrapping up, that I’d relax there until Foster comes for me and we can live happily ever after. I fall asleep, leaning against Foster, but am jarred awake by the horrifying sound of metal against metal, and Fosters shouting. I feel him cover my body and brace me as we the vehicle spins. It’s a miracle it doesn’t flip over. When it settles, I realize we were t-boned as I hear another crash, and gunshots ringing out.
I panic and place my hand on my belly. “Angel, you okay?” Foster voice registers in my mind but I can't find mine to answer. I see him pull a k
nife from his ankle that he uses to cut my seat belt then his. He puts it away, taking a gun from the back of his jeans. “Can you move?” He asks as we hear more gunshots.
I nod, and he starts to scoot me towards the other door. He opens it, and we climb out ducking for cover. He yells at me to keep down, as he stands and returns fire. I look around, shaking but trying to calm down. We’re near Springfield in one of the older almost abandoned areas. Griffin comes tumbling over to our car, bloody and beat up.
“Get Anna to safety,” he yells above the gunfire and points to a building behind us. “I’ll cover you.”
Foster kneels in front of me. I'm still not functioning and don’t think I can even speak. I start to feel cramps in my stomach from where the crash jarred me. “Angel, can you run? We need to get out of here,” he says.
I'm not sure if I answer, but somehow I'm on my feet, and Foster is directly behind me, fully covering my retreat. I hear more shooting as the pain in my stomach grows. I hear Foster scream and stop, turning to see him on his knees, holding his arm, blood gushing from under his hand, as he fires toward the cars.
“Go!” He roars at me.
I start running again, feeling a sting on my arm then my leg, but I ignore the pain. I finally duck into the building, going until I can't anymore. I feel lightheaded and realize I’m covered in blood when I look down. I must’ve been hit. I'm bleeding out and fast. I lean against the wall and slowly lower myself to the ground.
I move my hand to clench the wound on my leg which is bleeding faster than my arm. I close my eyes and hope Foster will save me. I groan when I feel another pain in my stomach. I try to think of our future as I sit there, of anything else but the predicament I'm in. I barely realize I'm crying before everything goes black.
Chapter 17
Foster
I look behind me and Annabelle is nowhere to be seen. I clutch my arm where I’ve been shot. It’s only a graze but will probably scar. Just another to add to my collection. With one SUV flipped and the other smashed, it looks like a disaster zone. I’ve gone through three magazines firing at Arnold's men. I have no idea how the fuck he found us so quickly. Suddenly, Arnold appears to my left. He stops and glances at me then books it toward where Annabelle went.
“Oh, fuck no,” I growl and chase after him.
I run with all my might and finally catch up and tackle him to the ground. We’re now sheltered from the gunfight by the buildings. His gun goes flying, and I climb on top, punching the shit out of him.
“Die fucker!” I yell, trying to choke him. I stupidly shove my gun in the back of my jeans, and feel him reach for it. I take my hands from his throat and try to get it before he can, but he uses that opportunity to headbutt me and it goes flying as I fall back. We both scramble to our feet and look at each other, having nothing but our fists now, but that’s enough for me to take him down.
“You’re such a disappointment, son,” he informs me, sounding annoyed.
I can't fucking believe he’s even talking to me like this. “You’re not my father. You’re a fucking monster,” I hiss.
He laughs without humor. “Says the man in the same profession.”
Maybe we’re in a similar line of work, but we’re so fucking different from each other. He abused my mother and me, then killed her along with many other innocent people. That’s the most significant one. I don’t fuck with people who don’t deserve it.
“I work for a powerful man. I wanted you to take my place once I decided to retire. Hell, you could even take over for the boss, one of the most powerful men in all of Europe,” he says. “But you insisted on following through with your revenge, all because I killed that pathetic excuse of a woman.”
I know he’s baiting me, trying to get me to attack first. He was military, and even with his age, I should let him have an advantage.
“Maybe once that woman is dead and gone you’ll think clearer,” he chuckles.
I run at him and we battle it out with our fists. He may be older, but he’s a tough son of a bitch. I don’t let up, dodge his attacks and dishing out more of my own. I don’t stop, I can’t. The lives of Annabelle and my son are on the line, unlike with my mother, I have the power to protect them. I punch him square in the jaw, and he finally stumbles back, pausing for a beat to regain himself. This is my chance and I quickly grab the knife in my boot. With quick reflexes I step forward and stab him right in the heart. He looks at me in shock and I slowly see the life leave his eyes. I pull it out the knife and he falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes. I’m disappointed we didn’t get along, but he’s dead now, and that’s all the matters. I feel the weight I’ve carried my entire life lift as I spit on his dead body.
“That’s for my mother,” I say then do it again. “And that was for Annabelle.”
My mind reverts to the love of my life, and I quickly put the bloody knife away then take off looking for her. I weave between the smaller building and alleys, my body screaming in pain. I need to find my angel. I’m running like a madman, scanning every alleyway as I pass, then I stop short.
Annabelle is on the ground, her back to a brick building, covered in blood.
“Oh god,” it comes out in a sob as I drop to my knees and put my hand to her neck. Her pulse is slow, soft pulse. “Hang on, angel, I got you.”
“Foster!” I hear Porter yell.
“Over here!” I holler back.
Porter speeds to a stop, and his eyes go wide with shock. “I need a car, is it clear?” I ask, not giving a shit I’m probably once again crying like a bitch.
“Fuck!” He curses as he looks at Annabelle. “Yeah, they’re all dead. We have one SUV working.” I try to pick her up, but hiss at the pain in my arm. Before I know it, Porter whisks her into his. “I got her, man, come on,” he says.
We rush toward the accident site, and Griffin is standing near the SUV and his eyes go wide when he sees us and he jumps in the driver’s side to start it. Porter gently places Annabelle in the back seat and I slide in next to her.
“Go, be with her. We’ll handle clean up,” Porter says.
I don’t bother answering as Griffin speeds off, taking us to the nearest hospital. When we get there, she’s placed on a gurney and rushed past a set of doors. I’m stopped by some people, saying I can't pass that point.
“The fuck I can’t! That’s my woman!” I yell at the doctor.
I see security guards step toward me and growl in anger. “Easy.” I feel Griffin's hand on my shoulder. “It’s his wife in there, and as you can see, she’s pregnant. Please excuse his behavior,” he addresses those blocking my path.
An older doctor offers to check me over while we wait. I can barely form words or a thought, but I somehow get looked over and patched up, then sent back to the waiting room. She’s still in surgery, and there’s no updates yet. Griffin went back to help clean up, promising to come back asap. I’ve been pacing this tiny waiting room for hours, and finally sit to take a breath. I’m not a religious man, never even thought about believing in god, but I close my eyes and pray. I vow to give up everything to have my angel and our baby safe.
Hours later
I feel like I'm about to tear this hospital apart. It’s been so long and I haven't heard a thing. They made me fill out a shitload of paperwork as if they expect me to think straight, but somehow I managed to. Duke, Porter, and Griffin are with me after taking care of the mess we made. Cole and Jace are also here and I’ve been flooded with calls from Lawson, Quinn, and Novak, along with their women. They’re all so worried, and I had to convince them not to make the trip.
The silence in the room is deafening, and I don’t think I can handle another moment of it. I’m about to storm past those doors when a doctor comes through and I jump to my feet in an instant.
“How is she? How’s my son?” I rush out in a panic.
He looks taken aback by my eagerness but recovers quickly. “The wounds were grazes but she still lost a lot of blood. If she wasn’t preg
nant, she would’ve died. We had to do an emergency c-section because of the blood loss. Your son is healthy and just needed some oxygen,” he states.
“She’s only eight months!”
“Thirty-six weeks is more than long enough for a baby to be healthy,” he tells me. “He was a huge and healthy boy. They’re in room two hundred five and you can go see her now.”
I look back, and the guys nod. “Go, we’ll go take care of some work. Call if you need anything,” Porter says.
I don’t reply, just move forward and head straight to the room. When I enter, I see her in the hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of wires. I sit next to her, picking up her hand. Her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful, like she’s taking a nap.
A nurse comes in wheeling what looks like an incubator and I stand as she comes to my side. I look and see my son laying there, attached to a few wires.
“I thought you said he was okay? What's wrong? When will Annabelle wake up?” I fire out questions to the nurse.
She smiles gently and puts her hand on my shoulder, pushing me down to sit again. I have Annabelle on one side and our son on the other.
“Annabelle is fine, she just needs to rest and has a lot of pain meds in her. She could wake at any moment.” She looks down at my son and says, “This handsome little man just needs a few more minutes with IV and oxygen then he’ll be ready to be picked up.”
I can't believe we created something so beautiful. I’m itching to pick him up and cuddle. The nurse points to the call button above Annabelle's head. “Press that if you need anything, but I’ll be sure to check on you.”
“When can I hold him?” I ask, getting choked up.
“I’ll be back soon, then you can. I promise,” she says with a smile before leaving.
I roll him closer and smile. He’s sleeping peacefully, looking comfy as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. I start talking to him, telling him all about me and his mom, how much I love them both, and the shit-ton of crazy uncles and fantastic aunts he has. The nurse eventually returns and unhooks the wires then hands him to me. When I hold my son in my arms, I feel my entire being settle. I can't believe how much I love him already.