Lucas - Anne L Parks

by Special Forces - Operation Alpha

  “I just saw her. She had some warm milk and was going to bed.”

  She turned toward him, and even though he could barely see her through the scant bit of moonlight coming though a slit in the curtains, he knew from memory the look of skepticism in her eyes. “How was she?”

  “Seemed fine. Wasn’t complaining about anything. No heavy breathing. Just tired.” He pounded on his pillow to get the fluff inside to loosen up. “Lay down. She’s fine.”

  He hadn’t expected her to listen to him, so it was a small sort of victory when she did as he suggested.

  He rolled onto his side facing her, and propped his upper body on his elbow, resting his head in his hand. “Do you still love me, Lettie?”

  She stilled. After a long moment she rolled to her side, pulling the pillow under her head. “Yes.” Her fingers played with the edge of the top sheet. “I’ll admit there were times I thought it was gone, but somehow, it was still always there. Like a firefly in the summer sky, blinking intermittently, taking me by surprise.”

  That was a great way of explaining their relationship over the past couple of years. Brief moments of darkness, but then a brilliant burst of light that lit up like a smile on a child’s face.

  “I guess, it felt like it was obscured.”

  “By what?” he asked, still enamored with visions of fireflies slitting through the darkness.

  “A false idea of what happiness really is.”

  “And now?”

  She inhaled and held her breath for a moment before releasing it. “Acceptance that perfection doesn’t equal happiness. Power in a relationship doesn’t make a relationship strong…it makes one person feel weak. Resentful. And that leads to deterioration. I don’t have to agree with you on everything, but I do have to accept you for who you are. And I do.”

  “How do I know you won’t up and leave me again?”

  Her palm rested against his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin. Warmth filled his chest, igniting a hot flame in his groin.

  “Because I’ve lived without you in my life for a year and I was miserable. I didn’t realize how unhappy I was until I thought I would die in that barn, and never see you again. And I’ve just witnessed how precious life is and don’t want to waste another minute away from you.”

  He took her hand from his face and placed his lips against her palm. Then he moved over her wrist, her pulse reminding him of how very much alive they both were, before tracing a line of kisses up her arm until he reached her lips. Rolling her onto her back, he ravaged her mouth, pushing his tongue between her parted lips, and tasting her as if for the first time. His hand ran over the curve of her waist and hips, his fingers slipping under the band of her panties and pushing them down her legs.

  “Do you want this, Lettie?”

  Instead of responding with words, she wrestled his boxers down his legs. With her hands on his hips, she encouraged him to move between her legs. Entering her for the first time in over a year was tantamount to fireworks on the fourth of July. Every move inside her reminded him of what was important. Their love.

  Their lives.

  Imperfect as they were, they had each other.

  God, please let this last…

  Chapter 15

  “You’re all I’ve got, Lettie.”

  Lettie looked into Mick’s face. His features were scrunched up in pain. She needed to get him out of this frozen hell and to a hospital where they could get the bullet out of his leg and stop the bleeding.

  She looked at the ever-increasing pool of Mick’s blood. The knees of her scrubs were soaked in it. Her hands were covered in it. The envelope he had given her had smears. She shoved the letter into her coat pocket and looked into Mick’s face.

  But it wasn’t Mick who was staring back at her. It was Lucas.

  Lettie drew in a sharp gasp.

  “Lettie, you’re all I’ve got.” He grasped her hand and squeezed it so hard pain shot up her arm. “Help me, Lettie.”

  “Lucas?”

  “Lettie—” His eyes rolled back in his head. A stream of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and made a trail over his jaw and down his neck. A long, loud exhale escaped his chest, followed by silence.

  No, no, no, no!

  “Lucas?”

  “Lettie.”

  Hands wrapped around her shoulders and shook her. Lettie opened her eyes, blinking against the sun streaming in through the window.

  “Lucas?” Relief swamped her. She laid her head against his shoulder, breathing in a deep breath as relief rolled through her. The dream had seemed so real. “What’s wrong?”

  “You were having a bad dream.” He slid away from her, extending his arms, but still holding onto her shoulders. She hated the chasm he had placed between them when it seemed as if they were moving forward. Now, it appeared he was having second thoughts.

  He looked into her eyes. “You wanna to tell me about it?”

  She shook her head. A pot clattered from beyond their bedroom. “What’s going on? Is Layla okay?”

  “The family returned and are making breakfast.” Lucas shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, Christ, that’s just what she needs—a bunch of people stressing her out.” She got out of bed and quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Grabbing a ponytail holder of the bedside table, she pulled her hair into a messy bun and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “How long have they been here?”

  “About an hour.” His eyes slid up her body as he stood. “I’m actually surprised they didn’t wake you…they aren’t quiet people. You were sleeping pretty sound when I came in, despite having a nightmare.”

  She shuddered recalling Lucas’s last breath.

  He reached for her, resting his hand on her upper arm. “Sure you don’t want to talk about it? It looks like it is still bothering you.”

  “Not right now,” she said, pulling on a pair of thick socks. “Maybe later. Right now, we should go make sure Layla is not being overwhelmed.”

  By late afternoon, Lucas had managed to clear Layla’s family from the house after the women had spent much of the day cooking enough food for an army, and stocking the refrigerator and freezer with every type of Italian dish imaginable.

  Lettie had wanted them gone hours ago, when she determined that Layla was in the first stages of labor. She had also wanted to take Layla to the hospital, even though she knew that the first stages of labor could take hours—sometimes days—for a first pregnancy. The best place for Layla was at home for as long as possible before having to call her and Mick’s families to inform them that the baby was on the way.

  A small shiver ran down Lettie’s spine trying to imagine the chaos that would ensue when Mick’s Irish family and Layla’s Italian family descended upon the Labor and Delivery unit of the local hospital. Everyone would be vying for a spot at Layla’s side, claiming some sort of superior right of access to the woman and her soon-to-be-born child.

  No wonder Layla had been hoping to get back to Newport before her little bundle of joy made an entrance. Lettie couldn’t fault her for that. There had been an almost endless stream of questions to Layla regarding her plans now. At least they were questions. The family members who stated what she should do—move back to Ohio, closer to family, why would you want to stay in a place where you don’t have family—were the ones that grated on Lettie’s last nerve. She wanted to shake them all until their heads popped off and rolled right out the back door. Explain to them that the poor woman had just lost her husband, and was going to be a single mother, perhaps she wanted some normalcy in her life. And whether they liked it or not—Newport and her military family represented normalcy at the moment.

  Lettie had warmed up some lasagna for her and Lucas for dinner. Layla was still taking a nap. They had taken a few short walks up and down the street, and Layla had finally drifted off to sleep listening to Mick’s playlist on Spotify. But Lettie was worried about waiting too long to get Layla to the hospital. She
understood Layla’s trepidations on going—she had just lost her husband while he was receiving care at a hospital. Even though Mick’s situation had been completely different than Layla’s, he had already lost too much blood by the time he arrived at the field hospital, she was still petrified about what could happen to her and the baby in one of the few places she should be able to trust in receiving medical care.

  “I should go check on Layla,” Lettie said.

  “Okay.” Lucas stood by the sink washing the dishes they had used, but didn’t look at her. They had not discussed any further what was happening in their relationship. Had not acknowledged that they had slept together and had sex a couple of times throughout the night, or what it meant. So much was going on, but the radio silence was disturbing and a little disheartening.

  Lettie wasn’t sure what she had wanted but had hoped for perhaps a secret smile or two between them. Some outward expression they had turned a corner and were moving forward. But Lucas was focused on Layla.

  Not that Lettie could really fault him for that. It was one of the things she loved about him.

  Lettie lightly rapped on the bedroom door before opening it. Layla was sitting up in bed, her hand on her stomach.

  “You doing okay?” Lettie asked as she stepped inside the room.

  Layla’s cheeks puffed out. Her lips pursed. Her head wagged from side-to-side.

  Lettie moved quickly to the bed. “Contraction?”

  Layla nodded but didn’t speak.

  “How far apart?”

  Layla held up nine fingers, then eight, then shrugged. Lettie took that as Layla indicating that she wasn’t sure, but somewhere between eight and nine minutes.

  “Okay,” Lettie said, her voice soft. “I need for you to breathe so you don’t pass out.” She moved the comforter off the woman’s legs. “I just need to take a quick look and see how far along you are.”

  “What’s going on?” Lucas was in the doorway, his face as stricken as Layla’s.

  “Everything’s fine. Layla is having some contractions. Nothing out of the ordinary, at this point.” She was looking at Layla the entire time she spoke, wanting to reassure the woman. Lettie looked over her shoulder at Lucas. “Can you get my medical bag from our room, please?”

  Lucas didn’t say anything, just turned and headed off as instructed. Lettie took the opportunity to take a look at Layla while he was gone. Typically, by the time a woman has carried a child for thirty-eight weeks, and had any number of strangers gazing upon her most private parts, she no longer cared who sees it. Especially in the throes of contractions. So, while Lettie wanted to protect Layla’s privacy as much as she could, it might be a fruitless endeavor since Lucas was the only other person in the house, and Lettie was going to need his help.

  The sheet under Layla was soaking wet, streaks of mucus and blood staining the fabric. Her water had broken. Lettie figured that at that time, Layla was only about five centimeters dilated.

  Not quite there—but not far off.

  A black bag appeared on the bed next to her. She opened it and fished out her stethoscope.

  “Shouldn’t we be getting her to the hospital?” Lucas asked. “Or should I start boiling water, or something?”

  Lettie glanced at her husband, expecting to see a shit-eating grin on his face, thinking he was funny for referencing the classic cliche in home births. But his face was stark white, his eyes wide.

  “That’s a good idea,” Lettie said, knowing her husband, like most men, needed an occupation to keep their minds off what was really happening. Especially for Lucas, who was a man of action in a crisis.

  But there was nothing he could do. This was Lettie’s domain.

  “Gather up some clean towels and sheets, also.”

  He nodded and headed out the door.

  Another contraction hit Layla. Her hands fisted the sheet, and she arched her back.

  “Breathe, Layla.” Lettie rubbed the woman’s legs as she checked to see where her dilation was at. In the span of a minute, Layla’s cervix had increased to what Lettie approximated as eight-to-nine centimeters. “Remember how you were worried about all the craziness of going to the hospital to have this baby, and how much simpler it would be just to have it at home without any of the family knowing?” She glanced at Layla and smiled. “Looks like you are about to get your wish.”

  Layla groaned. “Dammit, Mick didn’t get the crib finished.”

  Lettie smiled. “I’m guessing you will have more than your share of men willing to complete that task once we get back.”

  Lucas came back into the room and dropped the towels and sheets on the floor.

  “I need you to stand in for Mick,” she said to him. “We’re about to bring this little miracle into the world.”

  Chapter 16

  Lucas stared at the tiny little girl wrapped in a thick soft towel, cradled in the crook of his arm. He had spent the better part of the last ten minutes counting and recounting her fingers, memorizing every inch of her face. “She so tiny.”

  “Yeah,” Lettie said, peering over his shoulder. “Amazing, huh?”

  Lucas nodded, a lump in his throat. The truth was, as amazing as the child was that was asleep in his arms, he was more astounded by his wife, and how she had handled the situation. She was so calm. So confident. She not only helped Layla deliver Mick’s child, but managed to keep both Layla and Lucas from freaking out.

  “How’s Layla?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Lettie answered, relaxing her shoulders and releasing a long sigh. “Sleeping, also, which is the best thing for her.” She touched the baby on the nose. “There will be very little sleep from here on out, with this little one.”

  Lettie stood, posture stiff, muscles rigid. Her gaze went to the kitchen.

  “What?” Lucas asked, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting.

  “I thought I heard something.”

  Lucas stood. “Take the baby and go into the bedroom with Layla. Close the door and wait for me to return.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he turned her toward the hallway and gave her a nudge to get her to move.

  Flipping off the light in the kitchen, he moved toward the window. Standing to the side, he moved the curtain out of the way enough to get a glimpse into the back yard. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but then he saw movement. Two figures darted from the side of the house to the tree line at the back of the property.

  Lucas pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Sean,” he said when his teammate answered his phone. “Are you at Mick’s parent’s?”

  “Yeah, Most of the guys are here, including Ghost. You coming over?”

  “No, I need you here—at Layla’s. I just witnessed two large figures making for the trees. Think you and Appollo can swing by and take a look?”

  “On it,” Sean said, ‘and I’ll bring some reinforcements along.”

  Layla was half awake when Lucas entered the room, clearly still exhausted from childbirth. Lettie sat on the edge of the bed with the baby snug against her chest. She raised her eyebrows in question.

  “A few of the guys are coming by—they’re at Mick’s parents. I haven’t told them about the baby—thought that would be best coming from Layla,” he said, trying his hardest to be vague so as not to upset Layla. If this turned out to be a couple of kids using the yard as a cut-through, he didn’t want Layla to be worried for no reason.

  Lettie already had deep lines around her mouth and across her forehead. Nothing Lucas could do about that.

  His phone rang, and he stepped into the hallway to take the. “Yeah?”

  “Man, we have a problem,” Sean said. “The house is rigged with enough C-4 to blow the structure to the moon. All of you need to get out most ricky-tick.”

  “Is there a timer or anything?” Lucas asked.

  “No, looks to be a remote detenator, which means it could—”

  The explosion knocked the phone out of Lucas’s hand. His bo
dy lifted and then slammed into the floor. Pain spread across his back, shooting daggers into his extremities. He took a deep breath, working through the pain as his brain tried to comprehend what the hell had just happened.

  The house blew up. Lettie and Layla? Where they alive?

  The baby?

  Groaning, Lucas rolled onto his stomach, and lifted up onto his hands and knees. The fire looked to be contained for the moment in the back of the house, where the kitchen was. Smoke filled the bedroom. He crawled forward, blinking rapidly, hoping to god he didn’t find three dead bodies.

  A woman lay on her side a few feet from the door. The mattress covered part of her, the bedframe teetering on the top. Lucas could tell by the light color of the clothing that it was Layla. When he placed his hand on her shoulder, she moaned, and relief nearly drowned Lucas.

  Thank God, she’s alive.

  “Can you move, Layla?”

  The woman shifted slightly and rolled onto her back. Lucas stood and lifted the mattress off of her and she slid out. He knelt beside her. There was a nasty cut on her forehead. Her hand rubbed the back of her head. She didn’t seem to be bothered by it too much, most likely in shock. That was both good and bad. For the moment, she was calm.

  “What happened?” she asked, her voice quivering.

  “Just sit still for me, okay?”

  Lucas figured she must be fairly dazed and confused since she hadn’t asked about the status of the baby. Before she came to her senses and went into hysterics, he shifted and searched around him for the child. And Lettie.

  On the opposite side of the room, Lettie lay, her back to him. Part of the wall had come down on top of her. Lucas scrambled over to her, holding his breath.

  Please, please, please be okay.

  “Lettie,” he said as soon as he reached her.

  She turned her head and looked at him, and he thought he had never been so happy to see her brown eyes as he was at that moment.

  “The baby?” He looked at the bundle in her arms. She had wrapped her body around the child, making a cocoon to shield her as much as possible.