“HOW ARE YOU GOING TO tell Kayne?” London asks ecstatically as I wipe the jelly off my stomach and pull down my shirt.
“I have no idea.” My voice is shaky from the shock. I’m not sure I even believe it yet.
I’m actually pregnant.
“I want another one,” London abruptly discloses.
“Another one?”
“Yes, just one more.”
“Think Jett will go for it?”
She nods. “I’ve always wanted a big family. He knows that. And maybe if we hurry we can be pregnant together.”
“Oh, Jesus,” I laugh loudly. “Could you imagine the hormones?”
“I can imagine holding two little ones at the same time.” She’s practically burning up with baby fever.
“You better be careful what you wish for. You might end up with twins.”
London shrugs. “So be it.”
“You’re cra-” the chiming on the television catches my attention.
“WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM WITH A SPECIAL REPORT,” the newscaster announces. “EARLIER TODAY, OFFICIALS RECEIVED A TIP THAT TWO MISSING BOYS, JAMES ANTHONY AND RODNEY O’CONNELL, WERE BEING HELD IN A REMOTE HOME ON THE NORTH SIDE OF OAHU. THE TWO BOYS WERE REPORTED MISSING LAST THURSDAY AFTER NOT RETURNING HOME FROM A LATE SOCCER PRACTICE. THE OWNER OF THE HOME AND SUSPECTED CAPTOR IS CHARLES TINLEY. TINLEY, A REGISTERED SEX OFFENDER, WAS THE PRIME SUSPECT IN THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD JUSTIN COPELAND SEVERAL YEARS AGO, BUT NO CHARGES WERE EVER FILED. TINLEY ALSO HAS A HISTORY OF MENTAL ILLNESS AND HAS BEEN CALLED ‘A THREAT TO HIMSELF AND TO OTHERS WHEN NOT TAKING HIS MEDICATION.’”
London turns up the volume as we listen more intently to the young, pretty newscaster speak. She’s one of the anchors on the morning news show Kayne and I sometimes watch.
“EARLY THIS MORNING, A HIKER HEARD SCREAMING IN THE WOODS CLOSE TO HIS CAMPSITE. RICHARD PRICE FOLLOWED THE SOUNDS UNTIL HE CAME UPON TINLEY’S RESIDENCE. THERE, HE SAW TINLEY TORTURING ONE OF THE BOYS WITH A LIT CIGARETTE WHILE TIED TO A TREE. PRICE IMMEDIATELY CALLED AUTHORITIES. WHEN HE CONFRONTED TINLEY, TINLEY PULLED OUT A KNIFE AND RETREATED INTO THE HOUSE. PRICE MANAGED TO GET RODNEY O’CONNELL FREE, BUT WAS INFORMED THAT JAMES ANTHONY WAS STILL INSIDE THE RESIDENCE. ONCE OFFICIALS ARRIVED ON THE SCENE, TINLEY FIRED SEVERAL WARNING SHOTS AT THE OFFICERS WITH A SHOTGUN. WHEN OFFICIALS GAVE TINLEY THE OPTION TO SURRENDER, HE INFORMED THE OFFICERS HE WAS ‘IN POSSESSION OF EXPLOSIVES AND WOULD BLOW HIM AND THE BOY UP IF THEY DIDN’T LEAVE.’
DUE TO THE NATURE AND SEVERITY OF THE SITUATION, HONOLULU SWAT WAS DISPATCHED AND HAS NOW TAKEN CONTROL OF THE SCENE.”
That’s when my stomach drops. The camera flashes to a live feed of the house, surrounded by a dozen and a half men dressed in black body armor. Some holding machine guns; some holding protective shields. The image is too far away to see any facial features, but both London and I know Kayne and Jett are somewhere in the mix of the Special Weapons and Tactics Team. All we can do is watch as the men carry out what they were trained to do—defuse violent situations. We sit in a frozen state as the team surrounds the tiny rundown house while too many antagonistic words play on repeat in my mind—a history of mental illness, a threat to him and others, explosives.
The men just hold their ground, while London and I hold our breath. What are they waiting for? I lived through the raid at Mansion, and Kayne had told me the story of my attempted extraction when Michael kidnapped me, but I have never really seen him in action, so to speak. Never witnessed firsthand how he puts his life on the line until now—a history of mental illness, a threat to him and others, explosives.
My lungs cycle oxygen sluggishly as the men descend on the house, kicking the door down and crashing through windows. But nothing prepares me for what happens next.
BOOM.
“IT IS REPORTED SEVERAL OFFICERS HAVE SUSTAINED LIFE-THREATENING INJURIES.”
It feels like that sentence is stuck on repeat.
“It is reported several officers have sustained life-threatening injuries.”
“It is reported several officers have sustained life-threatening injuries.”
But they don’t say which officers. We can’t even see their faces as they’re dragged from the wreckage. What remains of the house is nothing more than a pile of destroyed wood. It’s been almost seventeen minutes since the bomb exploded.
“CHARLES TINLEY IS REPORTED DEAD.”
Is it wrong to be thankful of that and still be resentful because he hurt people in the process? Possibly hurt my husband or one of my best friends?
I feel sick. Like I want to throw up. Neither Kayne nor Jett are answering their cell phones, which only makes my rampant thoughts run wilder.
I compulsively twist my wedding ring around my finger. A white gold band with pink diamonds and the words, ‘Ruined By Him’ etched on the inside.
Kayne has a similar engraving on his, ‘Owned By Her.’
He surprised me with the inscriptions during the ceremony. I could barely hold it together as it was—then he showed me his little surprise, and it sent me right over the edge. That moment was perfect and beautiful and magical, and I know it can never be emulated again. Our wedding was a one-of-a-kind day; the same way my husband is a one-of-a-kind man. Anomalous. Unique. Irreplaceable.
The one person I could never live without.
“It is reported several officers have sustained life-threatening injuries.”
The emergency room is in an uproar, no doubt preparing for the mass injuries about to barrel through the door. One of them possibly my husband. I clutch my stomach instinctively. This is supposed to be a happy day.
When the first gurney carrying a hurt officer rolls by my patient room, I lose the battle with my nausea and puke in the biohazard bag. My nerves just can’t take this.
“Ellie.” London holds my hair until the contents of my stomach are empty.
“I feel the same way,” she tells me as I dry heave.
“Ugh. Yuck.” I wipe my mouth.
“I know.” She moves me back to the bed and digs around in her purse.
“Here.” She pulls out a juice box.
I just stare at it. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I’m a mom. I come prepared. You’ll be the same way, carrying around a bag of tricks.” She rips off the little plastic straw, unwraps it, then stabs it in the hole.
“Thank you.” I accept the purple and red box from her, take a sip, and swish the apple-flavored liquid around in an attempt to get rid of the nasty taste in my mouth.
That’s when I hear a very distinct voice barking outside the little room. Both London and I barrel out of the alcove to find Kayne towering over my nurse, John. There’s soot smeared on his face and dirt covering his clothes, but that seems to be the extent of his injuries. Unless you count self-induced hypertension. He’s pissed.
“Kayne?” He glances over when he hears his name.
“Ellie?” I nearly knock him over when he looks directly at me.
“Where’s Jett?” London asks frantically.
“In there.” He tries to point to a room similar to mine, while I climb all over him.
“Baby, what are you doing here?”
I ignore his question. “Are you okay?” And instead ask my own. “I saw everything, the news report, the explosion . . .” My voice quivers. “They kept saying officers had life-threatening injuries but didn’t say which ones.”
My eyes tear as I cling to his shirt. If you think being married to a Dom is difficult, try being married to an ex black operative who is now part of an elite SWAT unit.
I would take the Dom any day.
“Shh, Ellie, I’m okay. Everything is okay.” He runs his hand through my hair. That should soothe me, make me feel comforted, but it somehow has the opposite effect.
“You scared the shit out of me!” I lash out, slamming both fists on his chest. “I thought you were hurt!” I hit him again, crying. “Or worse!” The third time he grabs my wrists before impact.
“Whoa, killer. I’m fine. There’s no need to beat me up,” he says humorously, before his facial expression changes. “How did you know I would be here? Did someone call you?”
“No.”
“London, then?”
“No. We were actually already here,” I confess, sniffling.
“What?” His grasp tightens. “Why?”
Oh shit, this is not the way I envisioned telling Kayne he’s going to be a daddy. Right after an explosion with a death grip around my wrists.
“I woke up bleeding this morning,” I divulge.
“What? Where?” There’s a mix of fear and anger in his eyes.
“Between my legs,” I admit softly, so only he can hear.
“And you didn’t think to call and tell me?”
“London rushed me to the hospital. I didn’t want to worry you while you were away.” Although, selfishly, in hindsight, I wish I had. That way he wouldn’t have been anywhere near a crazy man with explosives.
“So what’s wrong?” he asks concerned.
“Nothing,” I tell him truthfully.
“Ellie,” he says strictly. Like, don’t fuck around with me strict.
“I’m pregnant.” I rush the words out. They’re amazing to say.
“What?” It looks like I just slapped him.
I nod. My angry tears turning into joyful ones.
“Honest to god?”
I nod more fervently, unable to speak from the overwhelming happiness.
“Holy shit!” He hauls me into his arms and plants an exaggerated kiss right on my lips. I wrap my legs around him and squeeze with every ounce of strength I have.
“But wait.” He pulls away. “Why were you bleeding? Is something wrong?”
“No. The doctor says it’s normal in the first trimester. I just have to keep my stress level low. Which has been a bit difficult this morning.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I should have called and told you I was all right, except Jett got hit with some shrapnel and I needed to make sure he was okay.”
“Is he?”
“As far as I know, it grazed under his eye. That part of the skin bleeds profusely. I think it looks worse than it is.”
“Is that why you were yelling at the nurse? To get someone to check on him?”
“Of course.”
“Were you inside the house when the bomb went off?” I ask meekly, unsure if I want to know the answer.
“No. Several of us had gone around back to extract the other boy. He was in bad shape. Beaten up, starved, and severely dehydrated. Once he was out, that’s when the other team went in. Jett wasn’t wearing his protective eyewear and caught some flying debris.”
“Are the boys going to be okay?”
“I think so, but from what I understand, they were abused in more ways than one. We might want to send them a business card sometime down the line.”
“Oh, no.” I frown, a mash up of emotions hitting me.
“Tinley has a rap sheet a mile long, and most of it is child abuse.”
“Disgusting monster.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I’m fine.” He hugs me. “It’s going to take more than a pipe bomb to get rid of me.”
“I don’t want to get rid of you. Ever.”
“You say that now.” He chuckles.
“I’ll say that always.” I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted. “Can we go home?
“Sure, kitten. We can take a nap right after you lick me clean.” He nuzzles my neck.
I giggle. “Insatiable.”
“It’s who I am. Love me or leave me.”
“I choose love you.”
“I can only hope.”
I roll my eyes, faithless man. “I need to grab my purse before we leave. Do you need to say good-bye to Jett?”
“Nah.” Kayne starts walking in the direction London and I bombarded him from. “London is with him. I’ll check in on him later.”
I direct Kayne into the small space I spent most of the morning in. He sets me on the ground and I grab my bag.
“Wait.” I stop him as he takes my hand to leave. “I didn’t exactly tell you I was pregnant the way I wanted to. Or hoped to. Can we sit for a second?”
“Sure.” Kayne looks confused but takes a seat on the bed anyway. I yank the curtain closed for privacy then crawl onto the mattress next to him. I pull out my phone and hand it to him.
“Am I supposed to call the baby?” he asks, even more perplexed.
“No.” I laugh as I swipe the screen and hit an app. “Just press play.”
He does, and a second later, that quickly pounding underwater sound pulsates through the air.
His eyebrows crease before understanding hits.
“Is that . . . ?” He brings the phone closer to his ear.
“The baby’s heartbeat. I wanted you to hear it when I told you.”
Kayne just sits there spellbound, listening to the rhythmic sound. “It’s the most amazing thing I have ever heard.” His voice is breathy and his eyes are glassy.
I snuggle up against him. “I think so, too.”