by Dee Garcia
Oh my God.
“That means you saw…”
“Everything?” he asked, lifting his eyes from the paperwork, his brows quirked. “Or what I assume is almost everything anyway.”
“What did you see?” I pressed, and he shrugged a shoulder, turning back to the clipboard.
“It’s all hazy, to be honest. Tried as I might to move, my feet wouldn’t let me. I was glued to the mouth of that alley.”
Averting. He was averting, which could only mean…
“Tell me what you saw,” I demanded, wearily yet purposefully.
The delay in his response was somehow more troublesome in the damned quietude. A pin could drop, and you’d hear it. You’d expect groans of pain or discomfort, perhaps even crying or whimpering, but there was nothing except whispers. I couldn’t tell if they were real or all in my head. Xander sighed, raising every last hair on my body to attention.
“You were hunched over in pain as that man lunged for the woman,” he started, roiling my stomach around like hamster wheel. “I watched him stab her deep in the gut, just before you threw him into the wall and—”
“Don’t say it,” I cut him off, shutting my eyes as I lifted a hand. “You don’t have to say it. I know what happens after that.”
“Then you know that he deserved it. I may not have been there for the entire thing, but he deserved it, Angel.”
There was nothing remotely insincere or forced for my benefit about his statement, just like when he’d said it the morning after I killed Barry Donovan in the back of that pickup truck. Was I perhaps not giving my man enough credit all along? I mean, there was obviously a reason why he was my man. He knew all about me, and yet he still wanted to be with me. He accepted me. Was there a chance he often looked at things from my point of view and acknowledged them as the norm, regardless of what society thought? Regardless of how pure and good his heart was?
“Why did you kill the woman, though?” Xander went on to ask, pulling me away from my inner-thoughts.
I stole a glance in his direction, suddenly confident I could share this with him without scaring him off. “Rule number two… No witnesses, ever.”
“Then what’s rule number one?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“Are there any more?”
I held up three fingers. “Rule number three.”
“Which would be?” he probed.
“Don’t fall for a mark.”
“Kinda botched that one, huh?”
“Mutilated for sure. But back to Millie… I wanted to help her, X, I really did. That’s why I attacked Bobby when I overheard him assaulting her. But old habits die hard, and as soon as I realized she’d watched me end his life right before her eyes, I knew I unfortunately had to end hers too.”
A simple nod was my answer—nothing less, nothing more. It should have worried me, and somewhere in the back of my mind, it did, but after witnessing an overall nonchalant and easy reaction from him regarding the entire predicament, nothing but relief washed over me. Even when he remained tight-lipped and continued filling out the paperwork, I wasn’t fretting over what may be running through his mind. I just watched him, laying perfectly still on the bed to avoid another flare of pain.
“Can I ask you one more thing,” he said upon completing his task, setting the clipboard on the seat beside him.
“Anything,” I answered him.
“What happened in the bathroom?”
“It was her.”
Xander curled his lips, as if he’d known all along. “Is she…always a problem?”
I shook my head. “No. Before I met you, she was never an issue. I connected with her only when I was on a kill, and even when we first got together, I was still in control. She didn’t begin acting out until we left.”
“What’s her motive?” he questioned, leaning onto his knees, and I shrugged because that’s what I’d been trying to figure out since that first nightmare back in Ponce.
“I don’t know. She goes silent from time to time and then she re-emerges when I least expect it. One second, she’s dead set on reminding me I’ll always be her and the next, she’s trying to help me.”
Had the nurse not slipped past the curtain at that very moment, I’m sure he would’ve continued pressing me on my dark passenger, but all he managed as she collected the clipboard beside him was, “We’ll figure it out.”
“Alright, Mrs. Alfonso,” she addressed me, flipping through the papers Xander had just finished filling out. “Bloodwork looks good, but let’s get your little peanut checked out, shall we?”
I stilled immediately.
My what?
Xander’s dark eyes darted to her, with the very same question I’d just thought blazing within them.
“My what, I’m sorry?” I asked in a rush as she flashed me another crinkly-eyed smile.
“That precious little peanut you’ve got growing in there.”
Did she just imply that I’m…
I couldn’t even allow myself to finish that train of thought because it was ridiculous, but also because Xander’s eyes bugged out at the same moment my stomach fluttered nervously. There’s no way…
A skittish, rebutted laugh shot out of my mouth. “You must have me confused with someone else. I’m not pregnant,” I assured her.
The nurse’s eyes cut to mine, her mouth forming a perfect O, as she went through the paperwork Xander had filled out a second time. “Oh no, dear, this is definitely your file. Based on how your husband answered these questions, I’m assuming neither one of you knew, but you’re one-hundred percent pregnant.”
If my life was a movie, a screeching sound effect would’ve accompanied the world around me in that tiny room skidding to a stop. Bile burst up my throat with such speed, I had to pop a hand over my mouth to keep from hurling all over the pristine white sheets of the hospital bed.
I’m pregnant?
What the fuck? WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?
I was on the verge of hyperventilating, my chest heaving faster and faster, until I remembered one tiny little detail…
“There’s no way I can be pregnant. I have the Nexplanon.”
The nurse’s head snapped toward me as she slipped on a pair of gloves. “Oh my. Have you been having any unusual bleeding or cramping?”
“No.”
“And how long ago did you get it inserted?” she pressed.
I did the math quickly, counting back the months in my head. “Winter of 2012.”
The way she gaped at me said it all. “Those things are good for four years, flowerpot. You’re way past removal date. Did your OB not ring you for an appointment?”
“No,” I said, though that was probably a lie because I’m sure they did call me. I just hadn’t been home.
“That’s odd and quite concerning, but worry not, we’ll get that taken care of tonight. Let’s just make sure baby is where he/she is supposed to be, okay?” she hedged, and I nodded, still stunned by the word baby.
“Can you help me move her to the edge of the bed?” she asked Xander, who was on his feet in seconds, taking his place beside me.
The two of them moved me with ease, taking care to work around the gash in my side.
“There we go,” she said sweetly. “Now lay back and put your feet right here in the stirrups.”
I complied—to my utter embarrassment—and watched her every move thereafter. She rolled in some machine from the hallway, plugged it in, then took a seat on the stool as she flipped several buttons on the dashboard and the attached monitor. And then pulled out some dildo-looking contraption.
“What is that?” I asked her, eyes wide.
“Don’t be afraid, love, it’s just a wand. Your HCG levels are still on the lower end, meaning you’re likely very early on. Vaginal ultrasounds are done until twelve weeks or so, since baby is so small.”
“Oh my God.” I. Was. Mortified.
“Just relax and take a breath for me, it’s going to be a little chil
ly,” she warned, rolling a condom on the damn thing, and some freaking lube.
I didn’t even realize I’d reached for Xander’s hand until he was holding it securely, standing stiff as a board beside me. I nearly yelped as she maneuvered that thing inside me, not only because it was indeed chilly as she’d advised, but also because it felt like such an intrusion. God, this was disturbing.
“There we go.” Her voice held a cheerful lilt. “All safe and sound.”
Xander and I both snapped our heads to the screen. “Is that it?” he queried.
“Yes it is, with a nice strong heartbeat too. Let’s take a listen.”
With the click of one button, the room went from virtually silent to immersed in this whooshing, thumping noise. There was no mistaking it was a heartbeat, a sound that attached perfectly to the faintest flicker I could see within this teeny little blob on the screen.
“I’ve got to say, Mrs. Alfonso, you’re a very lucky woman. What you went through tonight... well, you know. Must have one hell of a Guardian Angel watching over you,” she stated as she clicked more buttons on the console.
Never mind a word she’d just said, I hadn’t heard any of it. I was still fixed on the image of my uterus that was now not so empty anymore. “So, I’m pregnant?” I squeaked.
“You sure are. Nearly six weeks, based on baby’s measurements. Let’s get you a picture you can take with you later tonight.”
A few more clicks echoed around us and then a printing noise. She pulled out the wand—to which I shuddered—tossed the condom into the trash, and then...then she passed me the sonogram.
My hands shook as I held it in a death grip, that teeny, little blob staring back at me. A teeny, little innocent blob. Right next to it were the words, ‘Hi Mommy and Daddy!’ Even seeing it in front of my face, I couldn’t believe I was pregnant, something I’d never thought would happen. Something I never wanted to happen. I mean, what kind of mother could I ever be? Me, my father’s hitwoman, an assassin, a fucking cold-blooded murderer. What type of life could I ever give a child? Tears welled in my eyes and despite wanting nothing more than Xander to comfort me, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, my eyes trained on this little life we’d carelessly created together.
What the hell were we going to do?
I’m gonna be a dad.
Those five little words had been running through my mind in a loop since the moment I saw that tiny little blob on the screen in the hospital. That tiny little blob that had a heartbeat, the one attribute we as humans connected to life.
A life; I’d created a life. The concept was mind-boggling, given I never thought the day would come. I’d been alone for so long, purposely keeping women at arm’s length, that starting a family wasn’t a choice I ever entertained, when I could barely support myself.
But the choice wasn’t mine to make anymore; Life had made it for me.
A part of me was scared beyond belief, what with our outstanding situation and all, but somewhere deep inside me, I was...happy. Excited even. With a child involved, the Scarsis couldn’t simply end my life and do away with me. They cared too much about family to deliberately force Eden into the role of a single mother for their own selfish reasons. She’d never forgive them and what little remained of their family dynamic would swiftly crumble to the ground. And the very same went for Mama. She may not have approved of our whirlwind relationship, but she didn’t have much of a say anymore. In reality, she hadn’t had much of a say from the get-go, because I’d chosen to be with Eden regardless, but now she’d have to come to terms with it, one way or another.
This child, while completely unexpected, was a blessing in disguise—the catalyst who could bring us all together.
At least that’s how I was choosing to see it. Eden, though, I wasn’t so sure of at the moment. She’d not said a single word to me since we found out about the pregnancy. Not while she underwent several procedures, from stitches to the birth control removal. Not while we waited to be discharged or in the cab on the way back to the hotel. Not even now, as we sat here in the daunting silence of our room. She’d been laying on her stomach in the same spot for the last hour, her face buried deep in her arms. I wanted to believe she was resting, since neither one of us had slept a wink in the emergency room but honestly, I didn’t really know what to think. For all I knew, she could be damning everything and everyone, me included.
I mean, not all women want to have children.
Did she fall into that demographic? Based on her family values, I would say no, but what the hell did I know? Could bringing a child into the world be the worst scenario possible for her and if so, was she perhaps blaming this on me? Was there not even a speck of good to be seen through her eyes?
Calm the fuck down, Royce.
Clearly, the lack of conversation was getting to me. I was going from one extreme to the next, completely ripping apart and dissecting every little thing. Why did silence have such power over us? Why did it change how people felt? How we thought? It was literally eating at me, eroding my very sane existence. What was rationale or logic in times like these?
Nothing, that’s what.
Yanking my head from my hands, I stared at Eden, hating the way she’d been so closed off. So unreadable. So distant. I didn’t want her to blame me. Didn’t want her to be angry or unhappy. I just wanted everything to be as bright as I was imagining it could be.
“Say something. Anything,” I blurted out quietly.
My voice was barely audible, but it was loud enough. She heard me, and after a few chilling seconds, she very slowly turned her head toward me. Our eyes connected and still, she didn’t speak, regardless of my athirst expression.
“Please, Eden,” I supplicated her, growing more anxious. “Tell me.”
Nothing, not a word followed, and the worst part was how her blue-eyed stare didn’t falter. In fact, she stared me down. Intensely. So much that I could hear the strength of my own heartbeat.
A heartbeat that now beat inside of her too.
The reminder prickled my skin as the smallest sigh whirred through her nose.
“I thought I’d figured out my life,” she murmured to my surprise, unmoving from her place on the bed. “And a child was definitely not in the cards.”
Her tone knocked me rigid. I couldn’t move. She was angry…
“Why?” I asked testily.
“Why?” She laughed, shaking her head almost pitifully. “Because what kind of mother could I ever be, Xander? Me, the trained assassin who grew up around boys, who learned everything she knows and is the monster sitting in front of you today, because of her father. How am I supposed to be a mother when I don’t even know what a mother is?”
“Firstly, you’re not a monster,” I growled. “And secondly, instincts, Angel. Stronger than anything in this world, they never steer you wrong.”
“And yet they can only take you so far. I know what the definition of a mother is, what society has conditioned us to believe is the perfect mom, but I don’t know any of that from experience. I’ve never felt a mother’s love. How am I supposed to give that love when I know nothing of what it encompasses?”
“It’s your flesh and blood. You just…know.” I shrugged, because that was, unfortunately, the best answer I could think of.
Eden scoffed as she rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “Tell that to my mother. She seemed to have missed the memo.”
That, however, I didn’t have an answer for, mostly because I knew very little of her mom, but also because I couldn’t wrap my head around how a mother couldn’t want her own child.
“Will you tell me what happened?” I found myself asking, despite knowing now was probably not the time to prod her about something of this nature. But how could I not? With her impervious reaction to the news of our baby, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was having similar thoughts. Not to mention she was so early on, there was still the option to…
No, I thought to myself, practically cri
nging at the horrific direction my mind had gone.
“Some kids are planned for,” Eden started, again to my surprise. She had my full attention in less than a nanosecond. “Some are part of that ‘oops’ category, and some are just straight bastards. I was apparently the third. My dad was married to my brothers’ mom, Valentina, at the time. They’d been married for several years already, and had Alessio and Matteo, who were an absolute handful. Daddy was working long hours, doing not only his own dirty work but my grandfather, Lorenzo’s, too. And Valentina was the epitome of a mafia wife; strong, sexy, loving, understanding. Life was good.
“Now, enter my mother here—Calista Mastrianni. My dad hasn’t ever shared much with me, so I don’t know why exactly she was at rock bottom, but evidently, after living on the streets and selling herself for a year, she came to my grandfather for help. Honest and detailed in her explanation, my Papa granted her the money. He was a very compassionate man, very generous too. Continued granting her more as the time went on to ensure she wouldn’t go back to prostituting. But Calista was never able to pick herself up and Papa grew tired of her excuses, so he put her on the list.”
“Like the list I was on,” I said, and Eden nodded.
“The same one.”
“So, what happened?” I hedged.
“Something completely out of Daddy’s norm. He used to be a lot like Alessio, enjoyed torturing his marks in the privacy of the basement. But something about my mother got him caught up from the moment he opened her file. He staked her out as normal, followed her into a pub. The difference here was he didn’t drug her and take her back to the compound. He stayed and chatted her up. They danced, they drank, and then he took her back to a hotel, under the notion he was here on business.”
“And then he tried to kill her,” I finished off what I knew was coming because fuck me, did this sound unnervingly identical to the night Eden and I met.
Again, she nodded, brows knit together almost in torment.
“But he didn’t kill her,” I added, which earned me another nod.
