Christmas Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5.5

by Ames, Jessica

  Yeah… he got his comeuppance. If Liv had lost that baby—a baby she’s about a nanosecond from giving birth to…

  My hand flutters down to my own stomach where mine and Logan’s baby is nestled. We haven’t told anyone yet. It’s bad luck, right? And we have enough bad luck of our own without adding any more. Besides, I still need to have it confirmed by the doctor later this week. My nausea hasn’t really abated, but I don’t feel so anxious, now I know what is causing it.

  “You want a coffee?”

  Jamie startles me as she pops her head around the door. Holy crap, my heart is racing. I forgot she was here.

  After Brosen’s visit, Logan was insistent I had someone else in the office. Jamie was at a loose end, so I offered her a position. She’s doing admin duties at the moment, but if she works out, I’ll mentor her in the marketing side. I like keeping things in the family, with people I trust.

  She also put up the small fibre optic Christmas tree in the corner and some tinsel around both our computer screens.

  “Uh—” I do want coffee, but I’m not sure I’m supposed to drink it. I should have done more research… “No, I’m fine.”

  Her brows pull together. I’m not surprised. I usually can’t start my day without a good dose of caffeine.

  “Are you still sick?”

  “Yeah, I feel nauseous. It’s probably not a good idea to drink anything, unless you want to see it projectile vomited across the office.”

  Her red hair dances around her jawline. “Nope. I’m not sure puke clean-up is in my job description.”

  It most certainly isn’t, and I wouldn’t expect her to clean up my mess anyway.

  “Did you organise the paperwork for the Dravon file?”

  “Yep. It’s in your in-tray.”

  I’ll admit, I’ve been impressed with her work ethic so far. She comes across as a bit of a wild child at times, but she’s worked hard for me so far. She’s polite on the phone, good with clients, and it’s nice having someone here with me. It did get a little lonely before.

  “Did you hear about the Christmas dinner?”

  “Yeah. Are you going?” Lo goes to his mother’s for breakfast with the rest of his siblings, then does his own thing the rest of the day. I don’t think he’s eaten a Christmas dinner since he lived with his mum. It’s a good idea planning a Club sit down meal, but I do worry about the reason for it. Piper, it seems, has become fixated on Christmas since her ordeal. I don’t know if it’s just a way for her to avoid thinking about what she went through or if she genuinely loves Christmas, but she’s like the Ghost of Christmas fudging Cheer. Derek wouldn’t let her go crazy decorating the clubhouse, but Lo said he did allow a tree to go up in the corner behind the pool tables. I think it was enough to placate her, and not enough to piss the guys off.

  “I don’t know. It’s a family thing.”

  “Which you’re a part of, J. You’re as much family as I am.”

  She shifts her shoulders. “I guess.”

  “No guessing. You are. You have Saxons blood in your veins. That makes you family.”

  I don’t know why she has a hard time with this, but I’ve noticed she’s saying more things like this lately.

  “Yeah…” she studies me for a moment, then says, “Are you okay, B? You seem a little… strange.”

  “I’m fine,” I assure her, making a mental note to be ‘less strange’. “I just have a lot to do before we go off for Christmas.”

  Jamie studies me, then says, “You’re knocked-up, aren’t you?”

  Heat rises in my cheeks. “What?”

  “Girl, in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve always had a huge steaming cup of coffee to start the day. You need it or you’re like a bear with a sore head. This morning, you don’t want coffee, which makes me wonder why. Then there’s the vomiting without any other sign of illness. I might not have finished high school, but I’m not a dunce. I can put two and two together.”

  I lean my hands on my desk and let my shoulders sag. Considering she’s around me eight hours a day, it’s going to be difficult to keep this from her. “No one else knows yet, and I’d rather it stay that way ‘til we get the all-clear from the doctor that everything is okay with the baby.”

  A huge grin crosses her face. “Oh my God! I knew you were knocked-up. Your tits look bigger! I thought I was imagining it.”

  I stare at her a beat, then say, “You’re a nut.”

  “Yeah, but you still love me.”

  “Yeah, girl, I do.” I eye her. “Not a word, though, J, I mean it.”

  She pretends to zip her mouth shut. “I can keep a secret.”

  I doubt this, given her personality, but I don’t say it. “Thank you.”

  “Was Lo pleased?” she asks, moving into the room and sinking onto the chair in front of my desk.

  Reclaiming my own chair, I smile softly. “Yeah, he was thrilled.”

  “He’s going to be a hell of a daddy.”

  “I think so too.” I have no doubt Logan will make an amazing father. He had enough practice with his own siblings growing up. He pretty much stepped up after Frank died to help his mother with the little ones.

  “Between you and Liv, it’s enough to make a bitch broody.”

  “You want kids?” I ask, a little surprised. She doesn’t strike me as the settle down type. Jamie is a party girl. She spends most of her free time at the clubhouse, hanging with the boys and making her way through hangarounds. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. She’s happy and that’s all I care about, but babies didn’t seem like something that was high on her agenda.

  Her shoulders shift, making her hair bob around her shoulders. “Someday maybe. Yeah, I’d like a family. I guess it’d have to be with the right guy, though. I want what you girls have.”

  Her wistful words make my stomach clench. Jamie lost her father, Jeff, who was a Club member from the time I was young. He and Tap were inseparable. Now they’re both gone—Jeff in a brawl, Tap because of his betrayal.

  “You’ll find him. The perfect guy sneaks up on you when you least expect it.”

  “I sure as fuck hope so. I’m not really into the whole ‘spending my golden years alone’ thing.”

  “Things between me and Logan are good now, but that wasn’t always the case, honey. Things haven’t always been plain sailing between us.”

  She waves this off. “Yeah, but you guys are happy little clams now.”

  I smile. “Yeah, we are.”

  Work passes by quickly and at six, Lo buzzes the bell at the bottom of the stairs to come up. Jamie heads down to unlock the door and while I wait butterflies flutter in my stomach. He always makes me feel like that, which is something I never experienced with my ex, Alistair.

  When he comes into the room, he seems to suck all the space out with his huge frame.

  “I’ll just be a second,” I tell him, itching to go to him, but wanting to shut down my computer, so we can leave.

  “I’m heading out,” Jamie says. “See you two tomorrow.”

  “How’re you getting home?” Logan demands, his SAA hat always firmly on his head.

  “Driving…”

  “I’ll follow you back.”

  “Logan—”

  His hand comes up. “Don’t argue with me. Dylan and that fucker, Brosen, are still out there. You don’t go anywhere without an escort.”

  “I can’t wait around for your boys every time I need to do something, Lo.” She sounds irritated. I understand it, but when you’ve had bad things happen to you, you’re also grateful for the protection.

  “You can, and you will. I mean it Jamie. I find out you’ve been running around town without a prospect or a brother, I’m going to be pissed.”

  Her eyes roll. “I’m not scared of you.”

  His menacing growl and the flinch she gives suggests otherwise.

  “Okay, Sasquatch,” I say to Logan, “let’s just calm things down.” I glance at Jamie. “Go and grab your stuff,
so we can head out.”

  She goes, grumbling under her breath about bossy fucking bikers. I almost laugh, but the look on Logan’s face stops me.

  “She’s going to get herself hurt if she doesn’t start following the fucking rules. Charlie said she slipped him twice last week.”

  I rub a hand up his arm, soothing him. “This escorting business is not easy,” I tell him. “Cut her some slack. We’re all feeling it.”

  “It’s for your own safety.”

  “We know that, which is why we’re all adhering to it, but it’s not fun having to wait an hour for a prospect to turn up when all you need to do is nip to the corner shop. And it’s invasive. Jamie’s a free spirit. She’s not used to being followed around.”

  He leans down and kisses me. “It won’t be forever, but it is necessary. We have no idea what Dylan will do.”

  “I know, babe. Believe me I know, and I have no intention of risking my life.” My hand goes to my stomach and his eyes follow.

  “Fuck! I want nothing more than to get you the hell out of this shit storm.”

  I stroke a hand over his face. “This is our family, Lo. We have to stay and be strong for them.”

  “Yeah, darlin’, it doesn’t make it easy, though.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but it is what it is.” I roll to the balls of my feet and this time kiss him. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Beth.”

  Chapter Six

  Liv

  Five days until Christmas…

  A tightening across my belly wakes me. For a moment, I lie still, trying to pinpoint the reason for my discomfort, but I can’t. My stomach feels weird, heavier almost, like all the pressure is between my legs, but it’s been feeling a little like that for the past couple of days.

  Dean shifts in the bed behind me, drawing me into his arms as he often does when we’re sleeping. One arm is draped over my stomach, as if protecting us both and I love when he does it. It makes me feel overwhelming gratitude to have a man who cares so much for me.

  For a while, I lie in the dark, just loving the feel of him wrapped around me. Then my stomach muscles clench again. It’s uncomfortable, but it doesn’t really hurt too much. I’m pretty sure it’s a Braxton Hicks contraction, though, it doesn’t feel quite like the ones I was having earlier in my pregnancy, and I certainly didn’t have the feeling of pressure between my legs.

  I try to go back to sleep, but the tightening happens again. I glance at the digital dial on the alarm clock, the red numbers cutting through the shadows of the room. Ten minutes since the last one.

  I lie watching the clock, my hand stroking over my stomach and the next one appears ten minutes out again and it hurts a little more than the last. I debate what to do for a few minutes, but then my anxiety gets the better of me. If I’m in labour, I need Dean awake and keeping me calm.

  “Dean?” I say his name whisper soft. “Dean?”

  “Hmm…? Darlin’? You okay?” He sounds sleepy and dare I say, adorable, right now. I don’t want to wake him so early, but I think I need to.

  “I think I’m having contractions.”

  There’s a beat of silence, then he’s moving. He pulls out of my grasp and the lamp on the bedside table flickers to life, drowning the room in a soft glow. When he turns to face me, he looks a little freaked. I can tell he’s trying to lockdown his emotions, though, so I don’t freak too. He doesn’t need to worry about me. I feel oddly calm about the whole thing. I can’t wait to meet our baby. Truthfully, I never thought I would get to have kids.

  “You think or you are?”

  “I am. I don’t know. They feel different to the Braxton Hicks ones.” They hurt a lot more for a start.

  “How far apart?”

  “About ten minutes or so.”

  He nods and then leans over and kisses me. “I love you.”

  I start to answer him when another pain ripples through my stomach. “Ow.”

  “How far apart now?”

  “That one was less than two minutes. I don’t understand. Aren’t they supposed to countdown in increments?” I worry at my bottom lip. “Maybe this is just another Braxton Hicks, honey.”

  “Well, you’re up and I’m up, so let’s go to the hospital and see what the professionals say, yeah?”

  I nod and watch as he climbs out of the bed and gently pulls me up into a sitting position.

  “Let me find you some clothes.”

  He quickly crosses the room, brushing his fingers through his hair, and pulls his jeans on before throwing a tee over his head. He then goes to the chest of drawers and starts looking in my side for clothes.

  My belly feels hard and my back is aching. In fact, my entire pelvis feels achy.

  “What do you want to wear?” he asks.

  “Just leggings and a tee is fine.”

  He comes over with the things I’ve asked for and starts to help me dress. Like I’m a child, he directs me to put my foot in the leg and the other then he pulls the leggings up just past my knees before the bed gets in the way. He helps me into my bra, although I’m sure that’ll be the first thing I lose when I’m in a hospital bed, and then pulls the tee—one of his—over my head.

  Just as I’m about to stand, another contraction hits me, this one strong along the base of my spine. It hurts. Okay, it more than hurts, it downright steals my breath.

  I grip the edge of the mattress and close my eyes tightly as it rolls through me.

  “You okay?” Dean asks, rubbing my thigh as it starts to die down again.

  “Yeah,” I say, panting a little. If this is just the prelude, I dread to think what the main show will be like.

  “You think you can walk to the car?”

  “Absolutely.” This might be an exaggeration. I’m not sure I can walk to the end of the bed right now.

  Dean’s hands support me, helping me to my feet. My legs are a little wobbly, so I’m glad he’s here, but I manage to stand without any fuss. He eyes me to make sure I’m okay, then he pulls my leggings up my legs, the waistband sitting beneath my enormous baby bump.

  I cradle the underside of my stomach as I stand.

  I have no idea how I manage to get down the stairs, but somehow I do. We make a brief stop in the living room to put my canvas trainers on and a coat with scarf, then Dean takes me out to the car. Once I’m seated and strapped in, he rushes back into the house and grabs my overnight bag from inside the hallway. We packed everything we might need a few weeks back, which was one of our better ideas. I wouldn’t want to wait while Dean was rounding my things up right now.

  He climbs in the car and pulls his belt on. Then he turns to me and takes my hand, squeezing it.

  “You’re going to do amazing, Liv.”

  Tears prick my eyes. “You can’t say things like that—not when I’m emotional.”

  “It’s true. Our kid will be the luckiest kid on the planet having you as their mum.” He leans over the console, taking my face in his hands and kisses the side of my head. “Let’s go have our baby.”

  I tried to do as my midwife advised and enjoy my labour. It didn’t work. No amount of counting it out, or imagining holding my kid made the process anything but horrific. The pain was intense, unrelenting and savage. If it wasn’t for Dean’s calming presence and reassurance, I would have fallen apart. When the kid finally pushed out of me, I was a sobbing, sweaty mess, and every inch of my vajayjay burnt with pain.

  But when the midwife placed the baby straight on my bare chest, covered in body fluids and gunk, in that moment, I was smitten. I wanted to kiss every inch of my baby and hold him close. I never wanted to be separated from my baby, and my brain was still struggling with the concept of ‘my baby’.

  Exhausted, I stare down at my son. They cleaned him up, weighed him and took all his statistics before he was brought back to us. Dean and I haven’t had him out of our arms since.

  He’s amazing. I can’t believe he’s here.

  The baby looks up at me with
slitted eyes, his forehead wrinkling as he tries to decide whether he’s going to cry or just fuss a little, and I don’t know how I created something so precious, so beautiful.

  “Does baby have a name?” the midwife asks as she enters the room to check on us both.

  Dean jumps in immediately with the name we picked if we had a boy. “Oliver.”

  “Daniel Oliver,” I amend. Dean never mentioned his father’s name as an option, but after hearing his story the other day, I wanted to give him something of his own life in his son—especially since we decided on Oliver in honour of me.

  “Liv—”

  “No arguments, honey. He’s Daniel Oliver Lawler.”

  He closes his mouth and I see the tears pricking his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t need to thank me.” I rub a finger over my son’s head as Dean crowds us both, getting as close as the hospital bed will allow. “I love the name and I love him. How did we make such a cute baby?”

  Dean’s face softens. “Because he’s yours, Liv. He was always going to be adorable.”

  This makes my stomach dance me because I’m fairly certain I look like hell warmed up right now.

  “He’s got your colouring, Dean, not mine.” And he does. His hair is a dark fuzz, not blonde.

  He kisses me. “I’ll never let anything touch either of you. I want you to know that, Liv. I’ll protect you both with my life. You and him are the most important things to me.”

  “I love you too.” And God help anyone who tries to harm our baby because Dean might be fierce, but I’m lethal when it comes to Danny.

  Chapter Seven

  Weed

  Christmas Day…

  Women are crazy. They’re obsessed with babies. They’ve been gathered around Liv and her sprog for the past hour, just cooing and making silly baby speak at him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the kid is cute, but it is just a baby. They don’t do much.