by Apryl Baker
Kade didn’t know what to feel when those cat eyes shined up at him with curiosity. His face was small, but he was definitely a Kincaid. It was in the stubborn tilt of his jaw and the fierce protectiveness he saw in the way the boy clutched the knife. Conner told him he’d told the boy to protect his mother, and he was still doing that.
“Hi.”
Kade saw the smile break out on Angel’s face. He knew what she was thinking of. That day on the beach when he’d found her lounging with her friends. He’d said it then, and now their son was saying it in the exact same confident swagger he had that day.
Kade cupped the little boy’s face and felt the prickle of tears. “Hi, yourself. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
Mateo reached up and brushed the tears away that were slowly falling down his cheeks as Kade stared into the face of the child he’d grieved over for almost seven years.
“¿Por qué estás llorando?”
“He’s asking why you’re crying,” Conner informed him. Kade didn’t speak Spanish. Something he’d start remedying today. “Mateo understands English, but he can’t speak it so well yet.”
“I’m crying because I’m happy. I thought you were gone, and now you’re here, safe and sound. No one is going to take you away from me or your mama ever again.”
“Even Juan?” Kade wanted to get his hands around Juan’s throat when he saw the dead look that entered his son’s eyes.
“What did I tell you about Juan?” Conner came over and tousled the kid’s hair.
“He would die.”
“He will.”
The little boy finally nodded, but the dead look remained. Kade suspected it wasn’t until he saw proof of Juan’s demise that Matthew would start to recover from whatever he’d been through.
“Can I hold him?” Kade asked Angel, unsure if she’d give him up. Not that he’d blame her if she refused.
Her arms tightened around Mateo, but she finally nodded. Kade took him from her and hugged his son to him, unabashed tears streaming down his face. His son. Kade fell, holding the little boy so close it might be choking him, but he held on.
He was finally holding his son.
Kade sent up a prayer of thanks. For this, he’d haul his ass to church every Sunday for the rest of his life. God had done him a solid and brought them both back to him.
He sat there for a long time, Mateo clasped against him, and breathed in the scent of him. He smelled of the beach, of sand, and salt, and that unique smell that was all little boy.
He’d been conceived here, and it was right that he smelled of the things his mother loved the most. Everything was right with the world.
He just had one more thing to take care of before they could go home.
Chapter Twenty
Angel glanced at her son to make sure he was safe before letting her attention center on the gravestone in front of her.
Peter Marcus Lemoraux.
Kade promised she’d be able to come say goodbye to her brother, and he’d done exactly that. She brushed the dirt away from the headstone and placed the flowers over the grave. Daffodils. It was their mother’s favorite flower. She didn’t know if Peter liked them, but she’d put identical flowers on her parents’ gravestones a few minutes earlier.
“Hey, big brother.” She squatted beside the gravestone’s header that read beloved son and brother. “I missed you.”
The wind kicked up, and she let it wash over her. Who could say it wasn’t Peter listening and letting her know he heard her and missed her too? She would believe it was him.
“I just wanted to let you know I forgive you. If you hadn’t made Kade promise to leave me, maybe you would still be here. I’m mad as fuck about that, but I forgive you. You were only trying to keep me safe.”
She traced his name with her finger.
“I want you to know I’m happy. I found Kade again, and we found our son. He’s a little damaged, but we’ll help him. I need you to know I’m good, big brother, and I know you’ll always have my back. Me and you…” She used her index finger to gesture back and forth between the stone and herself. “We always got each other’s back.”
Kade’s arms went around her, and she let the first sob out. It hurt so much to be here, to say goodbye. She hadn’t let herself do it when she’d buried him. She’d been too pissed, and then she’d buried every emotion she had in regard to Peter and Kade.
“It’s okay, moye serdste.” He hugged her close, and she cried harder. “He knows you forgive him and how much you love him. He knows.”
“I know.” She hiccupped and leaned into him. “I just miss him so much. Did I tell you I had a dream about him last night?”
“You did?”
“He was sitting in the living room at the old house watching My Little Pony, of all things. There was a little girl sitting in front of the TV. They were having a tea party. She was wearing an Ariel princess costume, and her red hair was glinting like fire in the sunlight.” Angel twisted so she could see her husband. “I think it was his way of saying we’re having a girl.”
“Fuck that.”
She laughed at the horror that spread across his expression. Kade and his brothers all agreed the one thing that kept them all sane was that they’d never had a sister to worry about growing up. Give them a niece, and their lives would turn into a living hell of fierce protectiveness.
“It’s a girl. I know it.” She let him help her up, her tears starting to dry as the dream made more and more sense to her. “Arielle Patricia Kincaid.”
“I’m not having it.” Kade shook his head, his eyes wide as saucers. “There will be no girls born into this family.”
“Too bad, husband. Your daughter will be here in a few short months.”
“Then I guess we’d better get her mama to the altar before she’s as big as a house.”
“I thought you weren’t having it?” she teased.
“I’m not, but if God is cruel enough to give me a daughter, I will take her and keep her locked away until she’s eighty.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Are you ready to go home?”
She gave one last look at her brother’s grave, saying goodbye. “Let’s go home.”
The End
About the Author
So who am I? Well, I'm the crazy girl with an imagination that never shuts up. I LOVE scary movies. My friends laugh at me when I scare myself watching them and tell me to stop watching them, but who doesn't love to get scared? I grew up in a small town nestled in the southern mountains of West Virginia where I spent days roaming around in the woods, climbing trees, and causing general mayhem. Nights I would stay up reading Nancy Drew by flashlight under the covers until my parents yelled at me to go to sleep.
Growing up in a small town, I learned a lot of values and morals, I also learned parents have spies everywhere and there's always someone to tell your mama you were seen kissing a particular boy on a particular day just a little too long. So when you get grounded, what is there left to do? Read! My Aunt Jo gave me my first real romance novel. It was a romance titled "Lord Margrave's Deception." I remember it fondly. But I also learned I had a deep and abiding love of mysteries and anything paranormal. As I grew up, I started to write just that and would entertain my friends with stories featuring them as main characters.
Now, I live in Huntersville, NC where I entertain my niece and nephew and watch the cats get teased by the birds and laugh myself silly when they swoop down and then dive back up just out of reach. The cats start yelling something fierce…lol.
I love books, I love writing books, and I love entertaining people with my silly stories.
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/authorAprylBaker/
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/AprylBaker
Wattpad:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/AprylBaker7
Website:
http://www.aprylbaker.com/
Newsletter:
http://www.aprylbaker.com/contact
Apryl Baker Fan Page:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/AprylBakerFanClub/
On Her Guard
Protecting Her Series,
Book One
By Skyla Madi
Chapter One
Ben
I suck the last of my chocolate milkshake up the long, red and white straw, uncaring that it makes that annoying slurping sound people hate so much. I feel their stares on me and imagine their eyebrows pulling tightly together as their frustrations mount. The milkshakes are mediocre today. They were the best once. Now I’m not so sure.
I pick up my napkin and swipe it once across my lips before scrunching it in my fist and dropping it into the tall, empty glass. Exhaling, I slide out of the spacious, red leather booth and pull my wallet out of the back pocket of my worn jeans. The milkshakes here didn’t always cost five dollars. I swear they hike the price up every time I come back from duty.
Bastards.
I drop a twenty-dollar bill on the table and turn toward the exit.
“See you tomorrow, Ben.”
I don’t look at the waitress, Donna, as I saunter past the counter where she pours an obese man in a dirty trench coat a fresh, hot coffee.
“See you tomorrow, Donna.”
Bells clash together as I press my palm to the door of the isolated little roadhouse on the edge of town and step outside. Fresh spring air on the tail of a gust of wind whips my face and I fill my lungs with it. In the desert, the air never smelled like this.
God bless America.
Stomping down the metal stairs in my heavy, brown boots, I reach into the front pocket of my jeans and pluck out a half empty packet of cigarettes. The packet is a little worse for wear since I’ve been carrying it around in my back pocket as I jump from job to job. Flicking the cardboard flap back, I pluck out a cigarette and pinch it between my lips.
“What do you want from me, Samantha? Tell me what you want!”
Slipping the packet of cigarettes into my back pocket, I turn toward the ruckus across the parking lot. Car doors slam. Oh goodie. A milkshake and a show. I move toward my big black truck and rest against its bull bar, bending my leg at the knee.
“I don’t want anything from you!”
“Bullshit!”
The guy comes into view long before the girl does and I light my cigarette as he storms across the lot, gravel crunching underneath his crisp, white sneakers. He tugs his blue letterman jacket together at the front before pushing ten angry fingers through his short, jet black hair.
“I’m not going in there with you if you’re going to keep yelling at me!” A short blonde pops out from behind a yellow Beetle, clenching the thick strap to her handbag.
I simper.
“So don’t,” he shouts over his shoulder as he clears the roadhouse steps in a single bound before disappearing inside.
I drag on my cigarette, watching in silence as she throws her hands up and mutters to herself. I take in her cut-off jean shorts, white halter top, and the belly button piercing that pokes through the slice in the fabric and glistens in the sun. She must be in high school, given her sugary tone and her boyfriend’s jacket.
Turning around, she spots me and pauses, eyeing the cigarette in my hand.
“Hey!” she calls out. “Can I get a cigarette?”
I squint as the sun slips out from behind a fluffy, white cloud, its bright light reflecting off the stones. Flicking my cigarette to the ground, I crush it under the sole of my boot.
“Sorry,” I say. “Last one.”
Of course I’m lying, but I think she knows that. The young girl cuts her eyes at me as I push off my truck and saunter around to the driver’s door.
“Fuck you,” she snaps, planting her manicured hands on her hips.
My lips quirk. Yep. She’s definitely in high school.
I climb into my truck and shut the door. Kids these days feel so entitled. Where I spent my last tour, they’d cut off her head simply because she spoke to me. Again, God bless America. This little girl doesn’t know how good she has it. Besides, I did her a favor anyway. Smoking is a filthy habit.
I don’t smoke often. I’ve had this packet of mine for a solid month and I’m only now nearing the end. Even though my days no longer leave me trembling with anxiety as the safety of the sun sinks into the horizon, I can’t seem to kick the craving for that four p.m. smoke.
The tiny blonde storms toward the roadhouse, not bothering to spare me another glance as I turn the key in the ignition and reverse my truck. The engine’s gentle but vicious rumble is music to my ears. I thought she’d sound like shit after my recent eleven-month absence, but she’s just as mouthy and glorious as ever, thanks to my neighbor, Josh, who took her around town to stretch her legs every few days.
Vrrrrrrt.
I frown as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the main road. There’s another muffled vibration followed by a familiar ringing. I glance down at the center console, but I can’t seem to pinpoint where it’s coming from. Returning my attention to the asphalt, I turn my radio dial down to hear the ringing better, but the radio is off anyway.
Where the fuck…? Stretching, I reach over the center console and pop open the glovebox. The ringing becomes clear and loud, so I snag my cellphone and answer it.
“Yeah?” I slam my glovebox shut.
“Really, Ben?” my angry little brother snaps. “You quit your job?”
“Yeah, I quit,” I tell him, moving into the right lane to overtake a light green campervan driving grossly under the speed limit. “Fetching coffees and watching assholes mix cement isn’t me.”
“It’s the first day!” he counters. “You think they’re gonna let you pour up an entire driveway by yourself on your first day?”
Frustration bubbles underneath my skin. My brother doesn’t understand what I need to survive. I’ve done four top secret tours throughout the Middle East. Four. The last eleven years of my life have been filled with action, blood, violence—hard-fucking-work. I’ve rebuilt entire homes with my bare hands. I’ve helped construct schools, fix vehicles, and detonate roadside bombs. Hell, I’ve performed major surgery in the middle of a damn desert to keep a friend alive. There, I had purpose. Here…here I have nothing.
“I’ve built schools, Declan.”
“I know you have, but this isn’t the fucking Middle East, Ben. This is the real world! I stuck my neck out to get you this job and you quit before the day is through?” He pauses, and it’s lengthy, before finally exhaling. “You were nobody when you first went to the Middle East. You had to work your way up. Same goes here in this country. You gotta work for it. No one is going to give you a hand out. They don’t give a fuck who you are or what you’ve done. If they want you to fetch them a coffee, you fetch them a damn coffee.”
I lick my lips. Of course, he doesn’t understand. I can fetch coffees until the cows come home but, why should I? Why should I have to settle? I’d give anything to be back serving my country. I know it’s a horrible life to want to live, but I don’t know anything else…and now that Mom’s gone, every time I come back here, it feels less and less like home. There’s something else missing too, and I can’t pinpoint what it is. It’s not luxuries. I’ve bought everything I can possibly want—even a motorcycle that I don’t like riding. None of it keeps me distracted long enough to stop thinking about those hot days I spent smoking cigarettes under a makeshift umbrella, my focus never leaving the horizon. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but the way my heart raced every time the breeze blew sand off the top of a dune…I never felt so alive…and if I didn’t promise my mother on her deathbed twenty-four months ago that I’d stop touring over there and start a life here, I’d go back in a heartbeat.
“Good talk,” I mutter, pulling the phone from my ear.
Declan’s voice is rushed and unintelligible as I hit the red button to end the call. Exhaling, I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and continue my drive toward the city. It’s not of
ten I drive into the city, but someone I know is getting married tomorrow, and the only way I could get out of attending the wedding was to agree to show up at the bachelor’s party—which is tonight.
I smooth my hand down the front of my gray tee. I don’t look like much, but this is the cleanest shirt I currently own, so it will have to do.
Indicating right, I slip onto the freeway and head toward a bustling Las Vegas.
Chapter Two
Sera
“You be good, baby.”
I smile as my father plants a quick kiss on my forehead and nudges me toward the front door. I bat my eyelashes at him, ignoring Leo, who stands on my right, his black eyes burning the skin on the side of my face. “Always.”
I pull my long black coat tight around me as I turn and descend the wide, stone steps that lead to the sleek town car waiting for me.
“Keep a close eye on her,” Dad says to Leo. “If she gets away from you again…”
I roll my eyes with a smirk as James, my driver, opens my door.
“She won’t.”
I hear the hard bottoms of Leo’s shoes as he storms down the steps and slips into the car behind mine. I glance over my shoulder and wave to my father, who offers one back. I see the warning in his eyes, his threat to punish me if I act out again. Why can’t he be a normal father? I’m twenty years old. I don’t need an escort—or a guard to watch my every move. It’s freaking suffocating. I know he means well, I know he does, but the life he chose for himself shouldn’t affect the life I want for me.
Being the only child—and only daughter—of Marco Ventilli, Don of the Las Vegas family, is no walk in the park. You’d think with all this money and power I’d be shitting all over this town, but truth be told, I’ve barely seen what this town has to offer a young girl like me. I can’t break a fingernail without my father finding out about it and I’m at my wits’ end. I used to be okay with it all until I came of age and wanted to live my life the way my friends did. It’s through them that I saw just how trapped I was.
