Ready, Willing and Abel (Passion in Paradise: The Men of the McKinnon Sisters Book 3)

by Sarah O'Rourke

  “This?” Patience echoed, not comprehending him.

  “The morning sickness,” Abel clarified. “How bad is it?”

  “Well, I get up. I heave. I get dressed. I heave some more. I try to eat. Soooo much MORE heaving. Are you seeing the pattern develop yet or do I need to keep going?” Patience asked tiredly, glancing up at Abel’s concerned face.

  Abel frowned, crouching down to kneel in front of her. “I don’t like this,” he fretted, staring at her anxiously as his jaw hardened. “For you or our babies.”

  “Really? You’re don’t? Because I’m having a blast over here!” Patience retorted sarcastically, smiling appreciatively when Harmony carried over her ginger ale to her. “Hell’s bells! It’s morning sickness, Abel, with the emphasis on sick,” she informed, exasperated.

  “That doesn’t mean I like it,” Abel replied in a harsh whisper as he leaned forward to grip her hand in his, finding it cold and clammy to the touch. “Christ, Patience, do you think I get some kind of perverse pleasure out of seeing the mother of my kids looking like she can barely hold her head up? Have you called the doctor yet? Maybe there’s something that he can prescribe to take the edge off the symptoms.”

  “Sure. It’s called birth. And I’ve still got about six months before that’s an option,” Patience declared dismissively, pulling her hand from his warm grip despite how good it felt.

  “Will you can the smartass comments for a few minutes, Hellion? I’m serious here. I want Dr. Daniels to take a look at you,” he suggested, digging in his pocket for his cell. Pulling it out, he bit back a curse as Patience snatched it out of his hand.

  Patience rolled her eyes. “Way to be overly dramatic, Asshat. Women have been havin’ babies since the dawn of time. They had to… men couldn’t hack the pain. And I reckon if my ancestors can cope, then so can I. I’m not gonna be a big baby about this and bother the doctor every time I experience a little nausea and neither are you. I can promise you that absolutely nothing has changed since we saw Mack yesterday afternoon. Well, besides the fact that your evil ex, the Wicked Witch of Eastern Tennessee, has died. And I’m pretty confident that the good doctor ain’t gonna change his diagnosis because of THAT demented dimwit.”

  “Listen, woman,” Abel ground out, obviously striving to hold his temper in check, “I’m gonna need you to give me just a little slack on the rope that’s tyin’ us together here.”

  “Only if you promise to use it and hang yourself with it,” Patience answered back sweetly. She watched as Abel pulled his full lower lip into his mouth and bit down on it as he struggled to remain calm. Weirdly enough, she found herself vaguely disappointed that she wasn’t the one doing the biting on that now glistening lip of his. She couldn’t help it. He had a sexy mouth! And that dark smoldering look that was being beamed from his steely grey eyes….yeah, that wasn’t currently helping her suddenly raging libido much at all either.

  Releasing his lower lip, Abel lifted a hand to grip the back of his neck as he lowered his gaze and stared at her stomach like it held all the answers to the universe in it. Finally, in a gravelly voice he asked heavily, “Baby, you’re gonna drive me crazy before you finally reward me with our children, aren’t you?”

  Looking over at the table where now all three of her sisters currently sat, Patience shook her head in disgust at his question. Like she was the problem! Oh all the frickin’ nerve! This entitled bastard had another thing comin’ if he thought she’d put up with his utter foolishness. “Are y’all hearin’ this load of crap he’s shoveling my way? Seriously, was it NOT his penis that pushed us into this predicament?”

  “Now Patience, if I’ve told you gals once, then I’ve told you gals a hundred times that you’ve gotta look at things from the half-filled glass’s perspective.

  “Okay, Auntie, I give up. Please share with me you’re the-glass-is-half-full take on this alien invasion that I have goin’ on in my uterus. What positive spin can you put on Abel’s hostile takeover of my womb?” she demanded, her hand making a sweeping gesture of her mid-section. “I have got to hear this.”

  “Oh, hell,” Abel groaned under his breath, silently knowing that Patience was unwittingly opening a can of worms she’d rather keep closed. “No, you don’t, Hellion. You really don’t wanna hear this.”

  “Well… Gimmee just a second here, child,” Aunt Orla replied slowly as she tilted her head to the side and studied a silent, red-faced Abel while she gave the matter at hand some serious thought. “I’ve got it!” she announced, suddenly snapping her fingers. “Patience, my girl, you’re finally gonna be able to put all those curious minds in town to rest about your boy here,” she said, nodding at Abel.

  “How so?” Patience asked warily, mentally making a list of all the old folks’ homes in a thirty-mile radius.

  “Well, we all now know that the boy’s pierced pecker is up to par! That bun in your oven testifies to the man’s virility. And after the damage you did to that fine lookin’ man’s reputation with the ladies over the years when you were goin’ on and on about how he was such a disappointment in the bedroom, you really did owe it to him to do whatever you could to dispel that notion that his ding-a-ling was a dud! These babies will do that in spades! You can rest easy now… you’ve gone and done your Christian duty,” she reasoned enthusiastically.

  Inhaling deeply, Patience slowly turned to look at her sisters, each one lined up against the wall and barely holding back their giggles. Even Honor had managed to crack a smile. “Somebody, please explain to me why we haven’t put her in a very nice retirement home yet!” Turning her head to narrow her eyes at Abel, she seethed, “You. This is all your fault.”

  “Hey, she’s your kinfolk,” Abel countered easily, lifting his broad shoulders in a bored shrug.

  “Well, sugar, I, for one, couldn’t agree with you more. This is my son’s fault,” Abel’s own elderly father, Seth, remarked with a toothy good-natured grin in Patience’s direction.

  “See,” Abel muttered with a dark look at the woman carrying his child, “I have my own crazy kin to worry about. I don’t have time to worry ‘bout yours,” he noted, yanking his own head toward his dad.

  Of course, Seth ignored his son’s statement. “I declare, this might not be the first time my boy’s package put him in a pickle – the dead body of that she-terror outside testifies to that, but this is - by far- gonna be the most memorable,” he deemed with a long look at Patience’s belly.

  Abel closed his eyes and sighed as he heard Patience’s low growl. “Dad, man, you are really not helpin’ my plight here.”

  Seth merely grinned at his son. “Not surprisin’ since I wasn’t exactly trying to give you any assistance.”

  It was at that moment that Patience decided that with a family like theirs… she really couldn’t afford to accumulate any enemies. Exchanging an incredulous look with Abel as their familial audience laughed at them, she was almost relieved to see Zeke walk into the café. Buck Tremont ambled in behind him. And she couldn’t help noting that both men wore impassive faces, but she could sense that they had news neither man wanted to share with them. Turning to try and catch Honor’s gaze before she spotted her least favorite person in the world today, Patience groaned as she heard her Aunt Orla goad, “Well, lookie there, Honor! Our favorite Sheriff has graced us, yet again, with his presence. Didn’t you just warn him earlier this mornin’ that he was trespassin’ if he stepped one toe over your threshold?”

  “I surely did!” Honor hissed, bolting to her feet before Harmony or Faith could stop her. “Out! Right now!” she ordered imperiously, pointing at the door.

  “Oh, boy,” Patience mumbled with a sigh as Abel rose to his feet and she stood beside him.

  “Oh, boy, is right,” Abel said softly beside her. “Somebody better warn Orla and Honor not to press the issue too hard with our friendly sheriff. Zeke was muttering earlier about declarin’ the entire crime scene as imminent domain and to hell with all the consequences,” he shared in a
low voice.

  Lifting alarmed eyes to Abel, Patience whispered, “You’re kiddin’, right?” Shooting a look toward a stoic Ezekiel Monroe, she realized that she wasn’t looking at the man that loved her sister right now. Nope, she was looking at the tough, formidable lawman they’d appointed to guard their town.

  Abel just shook his head. “Grab your baby sister. Quick, honey.” he ordered under her breath.

  “Now, Honor,” Patience soothed, keeping her voice steady and serene as she snagged Honor’s arm when she would have stormed toward Ezekiel. “Maybe we should hear what they have to say,” she suggested, nodding toward Paradise’s coroner. Bucky Tremont stood, leaning against the wall, still dressed in his camouflage overalls and duck waders. “Dr. Tremont!” she greeted the aging doctor who’d been friends with their father before he’d died, “Fish bitin’ today?”

  The older man slowly shook his head, lifting a hand to scratch at his salt and pepper beard before reaching a hand up to remove his camouflage cap. “Nary a nibble, little darlin’,” he replied before turning his attention to a fuming Honor. “Nice to see you, Honor. Nice to see all you girls,” he amended, his gaze sweeping over the remaining McKinnon sisters. “Sorry it had to be under these circumstances though.”

  “Dr. Tremont,” Honor acknowledged with a stiff nod in the man’s direction while Harmony and Faith both offered the coroner slight bobs of their heads and small smiles.

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” Patience said to fill the sudden overwhelming silence as she felt Abel send a soothing hand down her spine to settle on her hip. “We’re a bit off this morning with everything that’s happened,” she explained, looking between an obviously uncomfortable Dr. Tremont and an uneasy Zeke.

  Dr. Tremont nodded readily. “Yes, Zeke filled me on your mornin’ while we were outside. I’m sorry you girls had to see that.”

  “Yes, well, if that’s true, perhaps you could move your little investigation right on along,” Patience offered hopefully, putting on her best smile as she looked back and forth between Zeke and a troubled looking Doc Tremont. When she saw the good doctor cast a doubtful look at the Sheriff, her stomach sank. Determined to remain optimistic, she noted, “After all, dead is dead, isn’t it? And I’m assumin’ that since you’re still here, Doc, that the woman is still, in fact, dead? I mean, she definitely looked dead when I saw her, and that was hours ago.”

  “Oh, Ms. Hastings is definitely deceased,” the coroner assured them all quickly. “No doubt ‘bout that,” he maintained with an air of certainty.

  “Did ya put a stake through her black heart and cut off her head to make sure?” Patience heard her normally sweet, placid sister, Faith, question dryly as she spared her husband a venom filled glare. Cain merely hung his head.

  “Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Harmony asked with a long-suffering sigh. Turning to Dr. Tremont, the eldest McKinnon sister smiled apologetically. “Excuse her,” she apologized for Faith while reaching out to touch the noticeable baby bump Faith sported. “It’s those pesky pregnancy hormones of hers.”

  “And it’s a condition that’s catchin’,” Patience muttered, looking down at her own still flat belly.

  Faith glared at Harmony. “Easy for you to say, Harm. Angie didn’t sleep with your husband!”

  Patience silently agreed as she nodded supportively. “She’s got you there on a technicality,” she pointed out to her oldest sister helpfully. Seeing Honor’s face turning a deeper shade of red, she cleared her throat loudly. “But back to the matter at hand….so, how soon do we get our business back up and running? All you needed was our town’s good coroner here to sign off on suicide, right? I’m assuming that you’ve already offered your John Hancock to our hardworking Sheriff, Doc?” Patience chewed her own lip worriedly as she watched the two men again exchange a distressing look. “Uhmmm…Zeke?” she prodded, noting the older man’s clenched jaw. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll help Mr. Watkins load Angie into the hearse if need be… anything to get her off our property - once and for all!”

  “It’s not exactly that simple, Patience.” Zeke drew in a deep breath as he angled his body to face Patience and Honor.

  “No,” Honor shook her head. “Oh, no! I know that look,” she shouted again, her eyes flashing dangerously.

  Patience’s head yo-yoed from Zeke to Honor. “I need more words, sis. What exactly is happening here?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s happening here. Ezekiel Monroe is about to get permanently banned from my presence if he says what I think he’s gonna say!”

  “Zeke, what the hell, man?” Abel growled from behind Patience as his hand tightened on her hip, pulling her more firmly against his side. “This is a case of simple suicide via self-inflicted gunshot to the head. Cut and dried.”

  “I’m sorry, Abel,” Zeke said softly.

  “What the hell are you not saying, Zeke? Spit it out already!” Patience demanded, growing more panicked as she glanced up to stare into Abel’s stormy eyes.

  “What he’s not sayin’ is that this wasn’t a simple suicide, was it?” Honor asked, her shoulders stiffening.

  “No, I’m afraid it wasn’t.” Zeke confirmed with a slow shake of his head and a regretful look at them all.

  Swallowing hard, Patience braced herself against Abel’s strong body.

  “Based on Dr. Tremont’s examination, Angela Hasting expired somewhere between 2 and 4 am this morning. There’s no gunshot residue on either of her hands and the angle of the bullet isn’t conducive to a suicide,” Zeke explained.

  “Meaning?” Patience returned, dropping her hand to her hip and gripping the hand that Abel rested there like it was her only lifeline.

  “It means that in light of these facts and findings I must find that this is now a murder investigation. I’m deeply sorry, but I’m ruling this a homicide,” Dr. Tremont pronounced firmly.

  “And this establishment and attached parking area is now an active crime scene,” Zeke added morosely, his eyes bleak as they met Honor’s.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Just over a day and a half later, Abel Turner remained convinced that he was trapped in a fucked up episode of the Twilight Zone.

  He had to be!

  It was the only explanation for the bizarre turn his life had taken.

  It was only in an alternate universe where he would he give two shits if his scheming, conniving, slut of an ex-fiancé had been murdered, right? Of course, the fact that every single person that he loved and cared about from the woman he now loved to his very own twin brother was a suspect in her murder played a crucial part in persuading him to give a damn about Angela Hastings’ demise.

  It was only in some other reality where he would find a damn former crime lord to be living right across the hall from where the expectant mother of his children (and his future wife - though she didn’t know it quite yet) slept at night, wasn’t it? And the crazy woman he adored appeared to be unbothered by the fact that she had a reformed criminal for a neighbor!

  Yeah, suffice it to say, his life had veered off the mostly normal road it had been on and taken a strange fucking turn into the land of Batshit Crazy!

  Scrubbing a hand over his tired eyes while he slowly climbed the stairs to Patience’s loft, he paused as he reached the landing and turned his head to glare at the closed door located directly across the hall from Patience’s apartment. Pressing his lips together, he knew it was important to choose his battles… and Diego Fuentes’ current address really wasn’t a fight worth having right now. He knew that.

  But, damn it, it drove him nuts to know that the man was sleeping mere footsteps away from the woman Abel loved. In addition to being a criminal or alleged criminal as his attorney, Vivian Miller, religiously reminded him on an almost hourly basis, Diego was also a rather … handsome criminal. At least, that’s what his employee, Maggie, kept insisting. Personally, he didn’t see it.

  Sure, he guessed that the guy had a certain charisma about him… a cer
tain charm, maybe. He was Latin. It went with the territory. Abel wasn’t intimidated by the other man’s dark good looks or his sensual accent. Fuck, no. He was secure in the man he was. He was a hunk, too, damn it. Multitudes of women had assured him of his appeal. He was confident that he was catch!

  Or, at least, he had been confident. Once upon a time his confidence had known no bounds. That was, right up until he’d been forced to watch while his sweet Patience planted her gorgeous ass at one of the round tables in the temporarily out of business I Don’t Care Café and flirted with that Fuentes fucker all damned morning and well into the afternoon. He, meanwhile, had sat, helpless, listening to Zeke interview every single unhappy (and often, uncooperative) member of the McKinnon family about their whereabouts on the night of Angie’s death. And if that hadn’t been bad enough, Ice Monroe had shown up to the party somewhere around lunch time, dropped his ass into the seat on the other side of Patience and devoted his attention to her, too!

  Oh yeah, that’s right. There’d been two fuckin’ assholes salivating over his goddamned woman. The worst part, though? One of those assholes was supposed to be a friend.

  Yep, Unlike Diego Fuentes, Abel had known Zachariah ‘Ice’ Monroe almost his whole life. He was a decent guy, definitely good to have around when the shit hit the fan as it inevitably tended to do where the McKinnon girls were concerned. But he definitely wasn’t the kind of man he wanted anywhere near Patience. No, Ice was too risky, what with his mysterious ways and secretive manner. Abel was no novice in the ways of women; females got off on that shit.

  And the only man that Abel intended Patience to get off with was HIM.

  Add all that to the fact that Patience and Ice had been close personal friends for years and Abel was certain he had a recipe for disaster on his hands.

  A disaster that was poised to blow up in his face if he didn’t do something to diffuse the situation with all due haste, he thought to himself as he turned toward Patience’s closed apartment door. Digging in his pants pocket for the key that he’d creatively borrowed (read, stolen) from Maggie’s desk at the office, he quickly let himself into Patience’s darkened loft and closed the door behind him as he contemplated the various ways that Diego and Ice could be made to disappear from Paradise.