Lucky
Six months.
It had been six achingly long months since I'd laid eyes on Hope Carter's face.
Four of those months, I'd been strapped to a gurney floating in and out of consciousness and fending off death.
I'd fought off more infections than I cared to remember, and hell, most of them I didn’t remember.
When Gonzalez took me out that night, I'd been sure I'd never open my eyes again.
In the moments before I lost consciousness, I had been absolutely convinced that the bastard had thrown me under the bus for his own financial benefit.
Waking up four months later on that gurney in Mexico, finally in my full senses, had shocked the hell out of me.
No one told me a goddamn thing.
I had no fucking clue how I'd gotten there or why they were keeping me alive.
Spending two more months trapped in a drug-infested cesspool of violence, literally fighting for my life on a daily basis in underground fighting rings before being tossed back into the kennels with the dogs.
I didn’t know anything except that I was in a foreign country, surrounded by non-English speaking thugs and whores.
And hell, even the ones that could speak English weren't about to risk their lives by talking to the white boy.
Brothels and containers, whores, and rotting corpses.
Death was on my doorstep every second of the day in that compound.
The only thing that had kept me alive was my survival instincts and skills with a blade.
When Gonzalez finally decided to show up at the compound three days ago, I'd been so goddamn stunned to see him that I ended up losing my first ever fight and getting stabbed in the thigh for my troubles.
After being patched up by a charming whore named Rosita, I'd been dragged into the HQ to talk to Gonzalez.
And that's where he explained everything to me.
David had gone to Gonzalez with a proposition.
He knew about our business arrangement and had offered Gonzalez 50k in exchange for my life.
When Gonzalez turned him down, telling him that I was worth far more than any money he could offer, David pulled his trump card.
Maria Gonzalez.
G's twenty-one-year-old daughter.
David had her locked safely away, and in order to get her back in one piece, all Gonzalez had to do was kill me.
So together they set up the whole ploy at the Ring of Fire to corner me, and Gonzalez smuggled in the best damn doctor dirty money could buy in to keep my ass alive.
At the last minute, he even tried to double-cross David by threatening his own daughter, but that went south fast when he ordered them to shoot her dead.
So G did what he had to do to keep Maria safe, making sure Noah was there to witness my 'death' so there would be no fallback on his daughter if it came to David's attention that I wasn’t actually dead as agreed.
He needed me to be a ghost.
And that's exactly what I became.
Gonzalez revealed that he had kept up his end of the deal we made all those months ago.
Without them knowing, he had protected the entire Carter family in my absence, had his men trail them, and kept a constant flow of twenty-four-hour supervision on Hope the entire time, even when she left the state for several months.
He also revealed that he'd been watching David for months as he continued to 'work' with him and gain his trust, all while scoping him out and waiting for him to get careless.
According to Gonzalez, the lung cancer that won him his early release from prison was taking its toll on David's body, making him desperate and reckless.
When I asked him why he hadn't just taken David out himself for threatening his daughter, Gonzalez told me that I had earned the kill.
He had been waiting for the perfect moment to bring me back.
Tonight.
David Henderson might have thought he'd been in control tonight, coming here and attacking my woman and her mother, but he'd walked into a well laid trap.
Just outside the walls of this cottage were fifteen of Gonzalez's men, all armed, all waiting for a signal.
David had thought the men were there for him.
They weren't.
He had thought the black Defender with tinted-out windows parked down the road from the front gates was there for him as a getaway.
It wasn’t.
It was my lair – the car that had transported me back through the border.
He'd been led here by Gonzalez, tricked by the obnoxious attitude that money could buy loyalty, and killed because of his reckless notions of being untouchable.
250k was the price David had put on Hope's life – on my child's life.
He paid Gonzalez for protection and guns and it led him to his death.
For six long months, I thought I had been double crossed.
But it had all been a plan.
For my benefit.
So I could seek my revenge.
I guess I could appreciate the effort G had put into keeping me alive, but the bastard riddled my body with lead, and tossed me to an aggressive motherfucking pack of wolves for six months, so it was still a touchy subject for me.
Being here now, though, after everything I'd been through to get home, made every fucking minute worth it.
Hope was still clinging to Lee, wide-eyed and making these tiny grunting noises.
Every time she looked at my face, a pained sob tore from her throat.
My heart was racing so hard as I stood up and tossed the knife away and looked at her.
She looked so fucking beautiful, it hurt.
It physically fucking pained me to look at her.
The image I'd had in my mind, the one that had kept me alive when I was in the compound, hadn't done her justice.
The sight of her clutching her swollen stomach killed me.
She was nine months' pregnant now.
And I hadn't been there.
Knowing she'd spent all that time alone, thinking I was dead, going through the pregnancy on her own?
It broke me.
"You're here?" she kept saying over and over, tears streaming down that beautiful face I'd missed so fucking much. She released the hold she had on her mother's arms and waddled towards me, only to stop and quickly back away. "You're really here?"
"Yeah, baby." There were so many things I wanted to say to her, so many things I needed to explain, like how much I loved her, and how sorry I was for leaving her alone in this, or how I felt when I thought I'd see her again, and how fucking much she made my heart race, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, "Now, who does a guy need to kill to get a kiss around here?"
Hope didn’t kiss me.
Instead, she continued to shake her head and back away from me, chanting something about breathe through it and it would all be over soon before howling out a pained grunt.
It broke my heart, but I knew what she meant.
I'd had plenty of those dreams for the past six months.
Dreams where we were back in my apartment together, only to wake up and realize we weren't.
It hurt like nothing else I'd ever experienced, and I was so fucking mad that she had to suffer that kind of pain.
All I had ever tried to do was protect her and keep her safe.
With her back to me and her hands pressed against the wall, Hope continued to grunt and whimper.
"Thank you," Lee whispered, speaking for the first time in minutes. Blinking rapidly, she looked to where a couple of Gonzalez's men had joined him in the clean up before looking back to me. "Thank you," she repeated, voice laced with emotion and sincerity.
Well, shit.
This was a one-eighty from the last conversation I'd had with the woman.
"You're welcome?" I replied, unsure of what the fuck to say to that.
Breaking away from the counter she'd been leaning against, Lee walked straight over and wrapped her arms around my waist.
Stunned, I just stood there with my hands at my sides.
"Thank you for loving my daughter," she choked out, squeezing me tightly. "Thank you for saving her life." Releasing me, she took a small step back before looking up at me and saying, "And thank you for being too damn stubborn to die."
Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t bat them away, allowing them to fall down her cheeks instead. "I was so very wrong about you and for that, I'll be forever sorry, but we can talk about that later, because right now, I need you to go and take a lightning fast shower and change your clothes."
"What?" My brows narrowed in confusion at her strange request. "Why?"
"Because my daughter is about to give birth to your son or daughter," Lee replied, before turning her attention back to Hope. "And she needs you to take her to the hospital in order to do that."
"The fuck?" I strangled out, feeling panic like I'd never experienced before wash through me.
Fuck panic, it was more like a tsunami of terror.
"Lucky," Lee soothed. "Hope's in labor."
"Labor?" I shook my head and gaped. "Labor?"
"Labor," Lee confirmed.
For most of my life, I had coasted through, doing whatever needed to be done without thought, fear, or concern.
I had lost count of the number of men I'd killed.
Of the amount of times I'd come close to death.
I'd been shot, stabbed, beaten, and burned.
None of the above brought the fear of god into my heart like that one five letter word did.
Labor.
"But I just got back."
"Well, I'm afraid the baby's not working on your schedule," Lee quipped with a smirk.
"Labor?" I repeated, turning my attention to Hope. "You in labor, sweetheart?"
"Uh-huh," she choked out seconds before groaning in what sounded like absolute agony.
Jesus Christ.
What had I done to her?
"I'm sorry," I blurted out, feeling a massive urge to apologize to the woman for being responsible for making her scream like that. "I didn’t know what was I doing to you!"
"Hunter," she cried out. "Come the fuck here!"
Oh shit.
Rushing to her side, I placed my hands on her shoulders only to quickly remove them again when she screamed at me to "back the fuck off."
"Do you want me to make a call, Bolillo?" Gonzalez offered then, distracting me from my personal crisis. "One of my men has delivered the babies of three whores. He's just outside and would get that baby out –"
"You keep that fucker outside and away from my woman," I warned him.
"Aye, aye, aye," Gonzalez mused. "First time fathers. Biggest pussies of them all."
"What can I do?" I demanded, turning my attention back to Hope. "Tell me what to do here, sweetheart?"
She reached out and grabbed my arms. "The pressure," she hissed, flinching. "My vagina feels like it's going to burst."
"Jesus Christ." I gaped in horror, looking her up and down. "Can that happen?"
"Ugh," she grunted in relief.
Moments later a steady stream of water gushed down her legs.
"Is this supposed to happen, Lee?" I demanded, asking the one person in the room with the experience to soothe my fears. "She just pissed on my boots."
"It's her water breaking, idiot," Gonzalez chimed in. "Relax."
"Lucky," Lee came to my rescue by taking her daughter's hands. "Go and clean yourself up. We need to go to the hospital."
"Okay" I nodded. "Okay."
"Lucky?" Lee said again, glaring at me.
"Yeah?"
"Move your feet… now!"