“Then my mind is made up. Let’s do the cesarean.”
I’m moved over to a surgical table. The room is freezing cold, the lights bright. A nurse helps me to sit on the edge of the OR table and I’m told to curl my spine like a C. I’m shaking. Jerking. I can’t control it. It’s impossible to be motionless despite the warning it’s what is expected of me.
“Just getting started. This part feels like a bee sting.”
“Oh!” Shit. It does. A huge-ass bumblebee.
“Hold very still for me.” Easier said than done.
The worst part of being told to hold still is when a contraction comes and all you want to do is move. “Here comes another contraction.”
“Got it. It’s in.”
“We can’t wait on your contraction to finish. We have to get you on your back now. The medicine spreads by gravity so your level of anesthesia won’t be high enough for surgery if you’re not lying down. It’ll all go to your legs.” The nurses assist me into a lying position and shove something under my left hip so I’m tilted. My arms are spread to my side, stabilized with Velcro. An oxygen mask is placed over my face.
I’m scared. I need Sin with me. “Where is my husband?”
“Don’t worry. A nurse will bring him in just a moment.”
I’m strapped to this OR table without the use of my arms. The mask presses on my face and I can’t move it. Doesn’t matter that it’s blowing oxygen into my mouth and nose. I feel trapped. Helpless. The onset of a panic attack is dancing across my chest. “I can’t breathe.”
“Your oxygen saturation is at one hundred percent. I assure you that you are breathing just fine.”
The anesthetist doesn’t know my history. Doesn’t understand that my body may be breathing fine but my mind tells me it isn’t. “I’m having a panic attack. I feel like I’m smothering. I need to sit up.”
My doctor calls out, “Tilt her to her left side a little more and see if that helps.”
I feel the surgery bed beneath me move. “Try to calm down, Mrs. Breckenridge. Your surgery has started so we can’t allow you to sit up.”
Dammit. I haven’t had an attack in two months. Everything has been going so well. Why now? “Where’s my husband? I need my husband. Right now!”
“Hey. I’m here, Bonny.”
I hear his voice but I can’t see him yet. “Where are you? I can’t breathe, Breck.”
I lift my chin to look in the direction where I think I heard his voice. I’m relieved when I see him coming to me.
Sin notices the restraints around my wrists. “She has issues with her mobility being restricted. Is there any way we can take those off?”
“We can if it’s contributing to her problem.”
The Velcro wraps around my arms are removed and I immediately feel better.
“Inhale slowly and deeply. Blow it out gradually. Concentrate only on your breathing. Think about moving air in and out of your lungs.” He strokes my forehead with the back of his hand. “Own it, Bonny. You’re not a slave to it.”
“I can put you to sleep if it becomes too much for you, Mrs. Breckenridge.”
Going to sleep means I don’t get to see my babies when they are born. I don’t want that.
I reach out to touch Sin’s face. “I’ll be fine as long as my husband continues to talk to me.” Only he can soothe me.
“Close your eyes and visualize yourself breathing. In. Out. The mask you’re wearing is giving you more oxygen than you need. Breathe it in.”
My hysteria spirals downward. Sin’s voice always does that for me. “It’s getting better.”
“Good.”
Sin sits on a stool next to my head so I’m looking at him upside down. “You look weird.”
“Says the woman who is wearing a plastic mask over her face.”
“Right,” I laugh. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”
“Perfectly understandable.”
Dr. Kerr calls out, “Just made an incision into your uterus, Bleu. Won’t be long now.”
Sin kisses my forehead. “Only a few more minutes and we finally get to meet them.”
I’m trembling, almost violently.
“Nervous?” Sin asks.
Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover it. “Extremely.”
“Just broke the bag of waters on the first baby.” The room immediately fills with the sound of suctioning very similar to what you hear during dental work.
Oh my God. This is it. Our first child is about to make his or her entrance into this world.
Sin leans down to kiss the top of my head. “Boy or girl? Last chance to make a guess.”
I’ve been taking care of Lourdes so now it’s hard to imagine myself with a boy. “I think this one is a girl. What’s your guess?”
“Boy.”
A high-pitched cry fills the room. The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
Sin and I look at one another, grinning and waiting for the verdict. “Number one is a boy.”
Sin leans down to kiss my forehead. “I can’t believe it, Bonny. We have a son.”
A moment later our newborn is placed upon my chest. I stroke my hand over the top of his head. “Hello, Liam. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
The nurses wipe him off and cover his head with a beanie before tucking him inside my hospital gown so we’re skin to skin.
I don’t get to admire him for long before a second cry pierces the room. I look at Sin. “Quick. Boy or girl?”
“I’m going with another boy. It’s what I’ve been saying for two months.”
“I’m sticking with girl.”
“I hear some guessing going on down there,” Dr. Kerr says.
“My husband says boy. I’m going with a girl.”
“Mr. Breckenridge has it right again. Another boy.”
Liam is scooted aside to make room for Harrison so both of my sons are lying against me, skin to skin. “Oh my God. I can’t believe how much hair they have. They must get that from you because I was almost bald until I was two.”
“I had a head full of dark hair, just like them.”
“I thought one might inherit Isobel’s hair.” When I imagined what our children would look like, I always saw one being a little red-haired girl.
It’s difficult to see their faces the way we’re positioned. “Do they look anything alike? I can’t tell from here.”
Sin gets up and looks back and forth between their two faces. “I think they do.”
“I’m going to send the placenta to pathology to confirm that they’re identical.”
Identical isn’t a possibility. “They’re in vitro babies. They have to be fraternal.”
“It’s possible only one embryo implanted and then split. That would result in identical twins. It’s unlikely, but not impossible. I should have an answer for you in a few weeks.”
Sin leans forward to study them. “Thank you for giving me not one, but two healthy sons. Two grandsons for my parents.” He leans close to my ear. “Two future leaders for The Fellowship. And two brothers for Lourdes.”
My heart pounds. “What are you saying?”
“What do you want me to be saying?”
“That we’re keeping her.”
“Then that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I want to throw my arms around him but I can’t. They’re full of babies. “You are amazing. I love you so much. Thank you.”
I may be looking at him upside down but I recognize his expression. He presses his forehead to mine and together we whisper so softly that only we know and hear what we’re saying.
“Into me … you see.”
The End
Chapter One
Bleu Breckenridge
Oh, Stella Bleu. You are in some deep shit this time.
I’m trapped in the back seat between two of my three kidnappers: Broden and The Order member poking a gun into my side. I’d like to see how tough he is without a pistol in his hand. I’m certain I could
kick his ass. But I’m pregnant. I can’t risk putting my babies in danger.
“You know, the gun does the same job if you simply point it at me.”
He rams it into my ribs a little harder. “Shut up.”
Despite the goon’s obvious lack of experience, this situation couldn’t be worse. My wrists are bound and I’m hooded. I’m concentrating on my breathing, talking myself down from a panic attack. In slow and deep. Out steady and gradual.
Broden and his thugs have made it impossible for me to do anything but sit, wait, and see what they have in store for me. None of which I’m good at doing.
Why couldn’t they have put me in the trunk? At least there, I could’ve busted the latch and made a run for it.
Right. That’s why.
My captors drive about twenty minutes before making a final stop. Broden grips my upper arm and plucks me roughly from the car. It pisses me off. I jerk my arm from his hold once I regain my balance. “I’m mobile. You don’t have to yank me around like a rag doll.”
“Damn, ye are a mouthy little bitch. I bet ye give Sinclair hell.”
He removes my head covering. We’re at an isolated warehouse. I don’t recognize my surroundings so I study the details, the ones that speak without words. A shiny metal fence, unoxidized by the elements, around the building’s perimeter. And the building’s new, which means this premises is probably recently acquired. This might be a problem except Sin has hired Debra to watch all moves made by The Order, including any new property they obtain. That’s reassuring.
The building’s exterior is well covered by security cameras. Whatever’s inside, they mean to keep it safe.
I’m ushered into the warehouse under Broden’s firm guidance. I study the wooden crates I pass as I’m steered through the building. They’re marked with a language other than English.
My final destination is a dark, tiny space in the corner of the warehouse. Probably originally a storage room. I don’t fight going inside. It would be useless.
I’m walking through the doorway when Broden delivers a firm shove against my upper back. I twist my body as I go down to prevent landing belly first. A searing pain ignites in my shoulder and hip.
I keep my mouth shut, despite the pain. To yell out would give them too much satisfaction.
The man called Reuben uses his foot to nudge me over on to my back so he can zip tie my ankles together. It’s terribly uncomfortable lying on bound hands but my complaints would only fall upon deaf ears.
“Can’t have ye running off. Mr. Grieve wouldn’t be at all happy about that.”
Broden stands over us, monitoring Reuben’s handiwork. “Tighter, ye fool.”
I roll to my side when he’s finished so I can regain sensation in my hands. “No attempts to escape, Mrs. Breckenridge. I can promise ye that we won’t hesitate to kill ye now instead of later.”
Kill me now instead of later?
My kidnapping is about more than a trade for bomb makings. They mean to kill me regardless of the exchange.
If I die, my babies die with me. That can’t happen.
Zip-tie restraints are useless on the wrong people. Most don’t understand that the tighter, the better for the one bound by them. Lucky for me, Reuben and Broden made mine exceptionally taut.
After they’re gone, I roll to my stomach and wiggle until I’m kneeling. I position the tie lock clasp between my wrists so it’s facing outward since it’s the weakest spot. I lift my arms and bring them down hard against my butt, spreading my elbows on impact. Once. Twice. Again and again, six times before the tie clasp finally breaks.
I stand and bunny-hop to the door. I lie down and lift my legs, slamming the ties against the frame until I break the restraints around my ankles.
I check the door. The knob turns but it’s barricaded from the other side. No surprise there.
I have no way out. There’s nothing for me to do but wait.
I sit on the cold concrete floor for hours before my kidnappers return with a fourth man I’ve yet to meet. But we need no introduction. Intuition tells me who he is. Torrence Grieve.
Tall and lanky, slightly humped with a dropped shoulder. His head is slick as an onion but he sports a black and gray goatee. It’s in need of a grooming.
He sneers. “My, my. Aren’t you the clever one?”
I don’t reply.
“Mrs. Breckenridge. I’m sure you’re aware that ten o’clock has come and gone.” I’m not wearing a watch but I suspected as much.
The bloody message on the wall stated I might survive the night if Sin returned the bomb makings to their warehouse by 2200. “Have you come to take me to my husband for the exchange?”
He shakes his head. “Your husband didn’t show.”
He’s lying. Sin would not leave me in the hands of The Order. “I don’t believe you.”
“Thane came in his son’s place. He tells us Sinclair encountered a bit of a mess on the drive over. Seems he ran into Detective Buchanan and got himself arrested for murder.”
“Whose?”
“One of your own. Malcolm something, I believe.”
No. No. No. Sin can’t be charged with Malcolm Irvine’s murder. It was me. I’m the one who killed him.
“Your father-in-law made a hard barter for you. He was willing to trade everything The Fellowship has in exchange for his son’s wife. That has me wondering what makes you so special. So valuable.”
“And I have to wonder why you’d refuse his generous offer.”
“Thane isn’t the one I want to deal with.”
I was right. This is about Sin, how Grieve plans to make Sin suffer for killing his son, Jason. Torrence needs to understand what happened. “Jason stabbed Sin from behind. He fired on him before he realized his attacker was so young. He didn’t intentionally kill your son.”
Torrence appears unmoved. “Intent doesn’t change the fact that my only son is still six feet under. That’s unfortunate for you since your husband loves you. His affection gives me leverage. A lot of it. So you have the honor of dying for his mistake while he watches. And he gets to spend the rest of his life thinking about your death and how he caused it.”
I am the smartest person in the room with the biggest reason to live. My babies. That means I have to turn this around.
I’ve approached Torrence from the wrong angle. I see my mistake now. I hope he hasn’t. “You’re wrong. Sinclair Breckenridge despises me. Our marriage was arranged to unite our families. There’s little he would love more than to see me die. You’d be doing him a favor. Thane is the one who wants me back.”
“Because you’re valuable to The Fellowship?”
“So my father doesn’t come after him.”
“Who is your family?”
I was an FBI agent. As part of my career, I became fluent in US criminal organizations. I studied them intently so I could familiarize myself with common practices. That knowledge is about to serve me well.
I choose one of the most notorious Irish-American gangs in the US. One with a daughter my age. “I’m Cassidy Abban. Carrick Abban’s daughter. Everyone calls him Little Abbot. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
Derry Abban was the founder of The Four Families gang. Today, his son, Carrick Abban, is the leader. I’m certain someone in Torrence’s position would be very familiar with Abban.
“Your name is Bleu.”
“It is. Cassidy Bleu Abban. I prefer to be called by my middle name.”
It’s a good cover. One he can’t verify without doing quite a bit of digging. Should he decide to investigate, I’ll be long gone before he can figure out that I’m lying.
“If that’s true, I’m sure Thane will send his son for you. He has no intention of starting a war with Little Abbot.”
I hope that means Torrence believes me and doesn’t plan to start one, either.
Grieve waves his hand in my direction. “Plans have changed. Looks like we’ll be holding on to Mrs. Breckenridge for longer than expected s
ince Sinclair isn’t coming for her until he’s released from jail. We can’t leave her here since she’s proven to be competent at removing restraints. We’ll move her to the cottage with Lainie until her husband is free.”
Torrence’s plan has been thwarted by Sin’s arrest. I think I may have just evaded death. For now.
The head covering is replaced and new zip ties are placed around my wrists. “Break these a second time and you’ll lose your hands.”
We drive about twenty minutes before the hood is yanked from my head a second time. I’m taken into an old stone cottage. Again, I’m shoved through the door. Same story, second verse. Except this time I maintain my balance.
The room we enter is vacant of furnishings. The walls are white and veined with cracks and chipping plaster. Aged planks of wood cover the floor, many rotten and buckling.
It’s cold despite the burning fire. The air reeks. Reminds me of decomposition. I hope it’s a dead varmint and not a body.
Broden comes toward me, pulling a knife from his pocket. Most people would be afraid. Maybe I should be but I’m inclined to think he would’ve killed me already if that was his goal. “Hands.”
He pushes the sharp edge of the knife between my skin and the zip tie. In one fluid motion, he frees my wrists. “Mrs. Breckenridge. Meet your companion, Lainie Grieve.”
Grieve. She must be Torrence’s daughter. Except I was unaware he had one. I thought Jason was his only child.
None of the men say another word before leaving. The clicking sound from the other side of the door confirms I’m locked in.
They’ve left me unbound with this woman to guard me?
The woman’s a small blond with childlike facial features. Round face. Big brown eyes. Thin and frail, maybe even sick. She doesn’t appear to have the physical strength to fend off a mosquito. She has no weapon that I can see. I’m almost offended they think she’s capable of wardening me.
Go ahead, Grieve. Keep underestimating me. Continue making mistakes like this and see where it gets you.
At the same time, it isn’t wise for me to underestimate this woman. Just in case. She could be a chameleon.
One of the first rules of abduction: make your abductor see you as a person so it makes it more difficult for them to harm you. I need to develop a rapport with Lainie. “Hello. I’m Bleu Breckenridge. But I guess you already know that.”