Lucky II (Patten Bodyguards Book 6)
Page 1
Lucky II
By Stella Marie Alden
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
From the Author
Busted Play
Copyright (C) 2019 Stella Marie Alden
Cover by Book Cover Luv
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
stellamariealden@gmail.com
A special thanks to my ARC team, my Facebook fans, and those who open all my newsletters. You help make these books possible.
To Rich, my love and gratitude for all the countless things you do to make this possible.
Prologue
Lochlan James
Tonight, the dark, dingy bar in Brooklyn perfectly suits my mood. The dive is hotter than hell and smells a whole lot worse. It’s got crappy food, criminal lowlifes, and a bartender who doesn’t give a rat’s ass if I get shit-faced.
Suds holds out his hand as if expecting I’ll let him see what Callie texted. I’m not about to expose my complete failure as a husband, a father, and a human being. Instead, I chuck the electronics into my pocket, point to my glass, and the bearded bartender fills it with more whiskey.
Before I can wrap my fingers around my drink, Suds slides it in front of him and downs my amber liquid. “You’ve had enough.”
“Not even, close, mate.” I get in his face, then slam my cell phone on the bar. “Fine. Go ahead. Have a look-see. Then leave me be.”
My best mate scrolls through my messages and sighs. “This doesn’t sound like her.”
It hurts so bad I can’t even breathe. Without her, my life has no meaning.
What am I, some kind of pathetic loser? I motion the bartender over while Suds regards me with hooded eyes. The whiskey heats the back of my throat and I cough but the real pain doesn’t subside.
I point for a refill but my self-appointed nanny covers my glass with his hand and opens his mouth with more fucking words of wisdom. “You need to tell her how you feel.”
“Thank you very much, Dr. Phil.” I raise my glass at the bartender, eyeing me now with brows creased.
“Could you pour me another, pal?”
The bun-tender empties the last of the Jameson into my glass and even after another, I’m still not inclined to chit-chat. “Why not go babysit someone else? I was doing bloody fine until you got here.”
Suds stands, piercing blue eyes finally angry, his southern accent thick. “Y’all need to go up north, apologize, and get her back.”
I stand, thinking I’ll get in his face but I need to brace both hands on the bar to get the room to stop spinning. “You think I haven’t tried? She’s gone off the grid. No phone, no online, no nothing. She told me to back off so I am.”
“Since when are you a quitter?”
“Because she’s right. I’m no damn good for her. If we’d never met, the last couple weeks would never have happened and she wouldn’t’ve almost died.”
“But she didn’t and she’s got your kid in her belly. Y’all gonna let her raise your kid alone?”
“If that’s what she wants, yeah.” My stupid chest feels like the time I took a bullet.
Suds slaps me on the back. “Don’t be such an ass. Pregnant women aren’t exactly the most logical beings on the planet. All those hormones make them crazier than a two-peckered billy goat. Just go up there, go caveman, and bring her home.”
“What makes you such a fucking expert?” I gulp down the tall glass of water that bun-guy places in front of me.
“I got four older sisters, all with kids.”
“Suds, I messed up. Okay? I almost got her killed. They’re both better off without me.”
My pal, one of the most laid-back guys around, stands, reaches back, and punches my jaw. I fall off my stool with my ass on the sticky floor.
Fuck. Double Fuck. And Fuck that too.
When the bouncer runs up, I send him away with a wave and force a grin toward Suds. “Only a friendly disagreement, mate. We’re good, eh? No worries.”
I climb back onto my bar stool, grab a cube of ice and place it on my throbbing chin.
Suds, apparently, isn’t done harassing me. “Drag your fucking ass out of here and go get your wife or I swear to God I will knock you fucking unconscious and drive you up to Mass-a-two-shits myself.”
When my phone blips, I read the message and shove it under his face. “Yeah, nah. I don’t think so.”
Suds eyes dart over the text then he shakes his head back and forth. “You’re a moron. This ain’t from Callie.”
“So say you.” I try to focus with double vision and my stomach churns, wanting to rid me of the last half hour of drinking.
Suds has no mercy. “Read the fucking message again, ya dumb Aussie. Your wife doesn’t text in whole words. No one under forty does.”
Callie: I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk to you. I never want to see you again.
What the fuck, over? He’s right. She would’ve written the you as a capital U. I fumble around and manage to find my text history. “Shit. They’re all like that. Someone must have her phone.”
Suds puts an arm around my waist to steady me when the room spins. “I bet you a thousand bucks, her mother’s doing the texting.”
I throw some bills down on the bar, force one foot in front of the other, and stumble toward the red exit.
Outside, I hand the cell phone to my pal. “Call me an Uber. I got a flight to catch.”
And one mother-in-law to set straight.
Chapter 1
One week ago…
Calliope James
On Sundays, especially in the summer months, most of New York stays in bed until noon. That’s why it seems like overkill for Isabella’s husband to book the whole restaurant for brunch. I guess, when you’re a billionaire, money is no big deal. Nonetheless, we have the place to ourselves.
“Anyone else need to use the ladies’ room?” It’s my second trip in as many hours but when you’re pregnant, it’s perfectly normal.
“I’ll go.” Always trying to make people feel at ease, Blakely jumps up, grabs her purse, and shoots me a smile.
“Six months down and three to go.” I scoot my chair back enough for my baby bump to clear the table and stand.
We create a small breeze as we traverse the room and pink helium balloons wobble. I’ve been gifted with baby bottles, teething rings, diapers, and so much stuff I can’t imagine using it all. Still, it’s very sweet. These women flew from all over to give me a baby shower.
At the top of the basement stairs, I pause and smile at my husband standing by the front door. Perhaps we can wrap this party up in time to have hotel sex before he has to go
back to work.
I run between the tables to give him a big hug and kiss. “Can you grab the bassinet and bring it to the car?”
“Sure thing, luv.” He shoots me a panty-melting smile, the one that says he also has getting naked in mind.
“I need to go downstairs… again.” I roll my eyes, he chuckles, then speaks to Suds in his headset. “I’m leaving the building for a few. You got this? …Copy that.”
To be honest, I didn’t want him working on his day off but he insisted. At least I’ll have use of his huge muscles to carry all the gifts back to the limo.
With a quick wave, me and Blake descend the brick staircase built around the time of the Civil War. Three well-worn doors block our way at the bottom. The one to the right says gents, straight ahead is blank, and to the left is our destination.
Inside the ladies’ room, I blink several times to adjust to the brightness. Blue fluorescent light reflects on white subway tiles covering every inch of the walls. Blake sets her purse down on the marble shelf surrounding the modern sink and checks her perfect long blond hair.
While I find a stall she asks, “How’re you feeling?”
“Physically or mentally, doctor?” With a laugh, I deflect her attempt to psycho-analyze me and she chuckles.
“I was inquiring about your physical health but if you want a quick session, I can.”
“Except for having to pee constantly, I’m fine.” Finishing, I flush, wash my hands, and open my purse to find a little makeup.
“Does anyone look good in this lighting?” I reapply mascara to emphasize my blue eyes, some blush to my pale skin, and add a little gel to my spiky yellow hair.
Blake brushes hers. “It’s not easy to go straight from college to instant family.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Lucky makes everything seem… easy, I guess. Nothing ever ruffles his feathers. We’re good, really good.”
And he makes love with me every chance he gets. I think back on how we met and smile. Was it the sexy Aussie swagger that hooked me or maybe it was his accent? No matter. He made me feel like I was the only woman in the world and I adore him for it.
When Blakely smiles at me, I ask, “You’ve been married for a while now. Does the lust ever die down?”
The tops of her cheeks turn red. “Not yet. Jack keeps it… interesting.”
Chuckling, we both lean over and check our war paint until a man’s voice sounds overhead. We both jump. I put my finger to my mouth with one hand and point with the other.
No one other than Isabella’s bodyguard should be in the building.
Our eyes grow wider as we stare up at the open pipe protruding over the bathroom door. It must connect to the men’s side.
“I don’t feel so good about dis.” His accent is thick, no doubt from Brooklyn or Queens.
“Nobody axed you, did they?” The nastiness in the second guy’s voice reminds me of The Sopranos or The Godfather. Either way, it’s not good.
The first voice moves closer to his end of our strange speaker-system. “Dis doesn’t feel right. My sister’s pregnant. How’s that gonna fly? Huh?”
My reflection goes white and my heart pounds as I strain to make out the bits and pieces of conversation coming from overhead. “…going to get hurt …scare …easy money.”
Blake opens her mouth but I place a finger over her lips. She nods, zips her purse open wide, and pulls out a pistol.
Holy shit. Who carries a gun to a baby shower?
Someone next door flushes and water rushes between the walls. Then, two sets of footsteps pound up the stairs. With shaking hands, I text my husband but, in the basement, my phone is useless.
I hold up the screen with no 4G and no wifi, and point up the stairs. Mentally, I reassure my baby within. Don’t worry honey, your mommy and Auntie Blake have this.
Blake cracks open the door, pistol in hand. “You should stay put.”
“No way.” I squeeze in behind her, staring up the stairs where Suds shouts, women scream, and furniture overturns.
“Stay behind me.” Gun held with both hands, she slowly inches up the stairs with me at her back.
We peek over the landing, across the main restaurant, and into the small banquet room. Two men bind the hands of my friends. Sienna is first, then Mel, and next, Lilac. Isabella faces the stairwell and I’m quite sure she sees us but keeps her face stony.
What happened to Suds? A Patten bodyguard doesn’t go down without a fight. At the thought of him unconscious or even dead, my knees go weak. Perhaps he’s hiding in the kitchen, biding his time.
If not, we’ll need to wait for Lucky to come back. I mute my phone and point to Blake to do the same. A bleep right now would surely get us killed.
With five full bars, I ping 911 to Lucky and the police while keeping one eye glued to the other room. The smaller of the two men puts a pile of plastic ties on the table, reaches behind his back, and pulls out a gun. The taller guy with him must be either a brother or a cousin. They both have similar squinty eyes, dark brows, and large noses.
Shorty points his gun at Lilac. “Where did the other two go?”
“They went outside with the bodyguard, to bring the presents to the car.” She shifts her gaze to the front door.
Good answer.
“Fuck!” The taller guy paces and glances into a small window in the kitchen door. “I told you we should’ve done this earlier.”
“It doesn’t matter. Three is just as good as six. Capice?”
“What I do understand is we should go.” He holds open the swinging door, they both leave, and the place goes dark.
When the breeze created by their exit hits my nostrils, I grab Blake’s hand and pull her up the stairs. “Oh my God, I smell gas. I’ll find Suds. You cut them free.”
Lucky should be back any second but it may not be soon enough.
My tied-up friends shout encouragements to Blake as I feel my way between tables and chairs. A small amount of light shines under the kitchen door. Crack on steroids, adrenaline races through my veins, I push, and enter.
The smell stronger, my head swims as I step between the steel countertops and stoves. In the left corner, I wiggle the handle of the outside door for some much-needed oxygen but it won’t budge. It must be locked from the outside.
Holy shit. We’re trapped.
A man yells from far away, breaking my panic. Suds? I look forever hoping I won’t pass out before I find him. Finally, in the walk-in freezer, I drop to my knees in a pool of blood.
“Oh my God. Are you hurt bad?”
“Only my pride.” Holding a hand to his ruined white shirt, he curses, and wobbles to stand. “Shit, do I smell gas?”
“Yes, we need to move.” I put an arm around his waist, and rush him to where Blake cuts the last of the women’s tie-wraps with a steak knife.
Izzy pushes on the partially open front door and chains rattle. “Oh my God, it’s locked.”
Suds speaks into his comm unit. “Loch, get bolt cutters and for fuck’s sake, don’t shoot. We smell gas! I’m taking the women downstairs. Yeah. Copy that.”
I’m going to pass out if I don’t get fresh air so I run to where Izzy still stands. Outside, a few short yards away, Lucky sprints across the sidewalk toward the restaurant.
When his concerned eyes lock on mine, I push my lips to the hole. “I love you.”
I want to stay and say more but Suds grabs my shoulder and pushes me back into the main restaurant. “Downstairs. Everyone. Now.”
Right. Gas rises. Hopefully, we’ll survive until they shut down the main valve or cut the chains off the door.
At the bottom floor, instead of a restroom, Suds kicks down the door straight ahead with no markings. “Go, go, go. In the basement of the next building, turn right. There’re stairs. Go up and out, fast.”
Suddenly, the floor overhead explodes with an earsplitting blast and I protect myself by curling into a ball, hands over my head.
My last thoughts are of Lochlan
.
Please God, take good care of him.
Chapter 2
Lochlan James
The explosion lifts me off the concrete and drops me about twelve feet from the building. I don’t know how but I’m suddenly back in Afghanistan.
Bloody hell, I don’t want to be here.
“You okay, bro?” Henry slaps me on the back and Jasper follows suit.
Fuck, no. Nothing’s okay. You both died. Or maybe not. At this juncture, I can’t be sure of anything.
Our Humvee lies on its side, wheels spinning, the inside blown-to-bits. Confused as hell, I sit and ponder on the edge of the road. This happened years ago, didn’t it? I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here.
Babies cry, the Humvee transforms into a school bus and in the blink of an eye, I’m inside. I was in charge, I was supposed to keep them safe. This is all my fault.
One by one, I pick up infants and place them gently outside in the sand. Thick smoke chokes my lungs, I cough, and check my watch. The bus will explode in five minutes. However, the more babies I bring out, the more there seems to be.
“You shouldn’t have left them.” My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Gardner, stands behind me. She never liked me. She said I was a smartass and she was right.
“Please, please help me.” I hand her a crying baby girl but when I turn, she’s morphed into Suds, and we’re back in front of the Humvee.
Thank God. I’d much rather die with soldiers than infants. I count the bloodied faces, all guys in my unit. I remember now. I was thrown clear of the blast and survived. None of the others, except Suds, was so lucky.
I never liked my nickname but it serves to remind me of those I left behind. A thought nags at my foggy brain.
I need to be someplace else.
On command, a beautiful smile appears under a pink hat. Snow falls on blond eyelashes and this gorgeous sheila shoots me a grin. It says come and get me. I’m yours for the taking and I do.
We’re in bed, making love which is confusing. In the service, I don’t make love, I fuck. I do it so well no one even knows, except me, but this is different. She’s different.