Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication and Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Enforcer by Ryleigh Rhodes
Copyright © Ryleigh Rhodes 2014
First Ebook Edition: July 2014
Published by: Ryleigh Rhodes 2014
Cover Design by: LM Creations
ISBN-13: 978-1500324766
ISBN-10: 1500324760
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading , and electronic or mechanical sharing of any part of this book without permission in writing of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Dedication and Acknowledgements
Special thanks to my good friend, Laurie, for finding time in her busy schedule to critique this for me, and listen to my crazy ramblings. I'd also like to thank: Lila Rose, PJ MacLayne, Dawn Altieri, Scarlet Wolfe for offering support and advice along the way. Last, but not least, special thanks to my hubby for putting up with my crazy moods, and rambunctious toddler so I could have time to write. Love you always!
"Do what you feel in your heart to be right- for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't."
Eleanor Roosevelt
Chapter One
I lowered my sunglasses and waddled out of the volunteer tent. Why did I volunteer at the hospital's charity golf tournament? I was gigantic. Thirty-six weeks pregnant with twins. I should've been home with my feet elevated, rather than out in the heat, but no. Here I am sweating my tatas off.
My husband, Sawyer, is deployed to Afghanistan. Q and Pohl, Sawyer's best friends and army buddies, were loyal, checking in on me constantly. Of course, they volunteered to caddy for a chance to rub elbows with a few celebrities.
They were still out on the course fulfilling their obligations. Being the size of a whale, I couldn't drive anymore. Which, unfortunately, meant I was stranded until they returned.
Palming my belly, I eased down on the picnic table. A beautiful, slender, but pregnant blonde, took a seat across from me.
"Birds of a feather— might as well stick together." She smiled. "My name's Kristen."
"I'm Claire. How many weeks are you?" I asked.
"Thirty-four, with a boy, Matthew. You?"
"Thirty-six." At Kristen's frantic expression, I smiled and added, "With twins. Boy and a girl." I have a twisted sense of humor sometimes.
"Whew. I only have one. You had me worried for a minute though." She laughs sipping her water. "I think your husband volunteered, to caddy, for mine." Strangers make that assumption quite a bit, that one of the boys is my husband.
"My husband is in Afghanistan. His friends— aka my babysitters, did volunteer to caddy." They were more than happy to volunteer. Q loved sports, and Pohl liked being in Denver over Fort Collins.
"He's going to miss the birth?"
Unless the army managed to produce— and perfect— some sort of magical transporter, like in Star Trek, or something— he would miss the birth. It was an emotional sore spot for both of us, but life happened. Sawyer knew when he re-enlisted that he'd likely deploy again. Although getting pregnant wasn't exactly planned, we both still had obligations to see through.
"Yes, he will. I have a friend coming to stay with me. Not really sure how I'm going to manage twins, and my last year as a resident.," I confided, finishing my water. I'm weeks away from crossing the finish line.
"I was wondering how you were roped into volunteering. What kind of doctor?"
"I started off as PharmD, but I added on Oncology. Honestly, I only did that to fully use my GI Bill. Just didn't want to waste it," I admitted. After I survived Iraq, I damn sure wanted to use every benefit I had earned.
"So you met your husband in the Army, how cute!" Kristen commented.
Several of my friends had gotten married while serving. Sawyer and I were sort of black sheep because we served in different branches. It wasn't as common. If only Kristen knew how many friends I had witnessed being lowered in to the ground. There's nothing cute about war.
"He's in the army, a medic. I actually served in the Marine Corps. We met in Iraq, nothing overly romantic about it." I shrugged. Nothing romantic at all! "What does your husband do?"
"Jack plays football for the Broncos, quarterback. His cousin, Clay, plays hockey for the Avalanches. He's out there golfing too. Clay's team has a decent shot at winning the cup. They're in the playoffs now," Kristen proudly admitted. "They also have a cousin that plays in the MLB. Which is kind of weird, right? Three cousins playing professionally in different sports."
Although, I agree it did sound strange, I didn't follow sports. Mainly I didn't have the time. I could follow football because, being raised in the south, it was sacrilege not to understand it. My phone dinged, indicating a text message.
Fumbling through my purse, I smile and replied, "Q and Pohl, my husband's friends will be happy then. They were hoping to meet some celebrities. Honestly, I don't follow sports. Between work and study hours combined with being the size of a whale, I'm happy when I manage to sleep. I really don't have time to watch TV."
Thankfully, it wasn't work just a text from Q, checking on me.
"Jack spoils me, I have to admit. I'm a pretty lucky girl. He makes sure I stay comfortable." Kristen fanned herself with a half rolled catalog.
Kristen sported a large carat diamond on her left ring finger. She could probably qualify to be on Housewives of Denver, if that show even existed. Wait, did that show exist? Kristen didn't seem quite snarky enough, although I had just met her five minutes ago. Who knew what her true colors could be.
######
Kristen and I left the beverage tent and strolled back to the shaded picnic table. At this point I'm already coated in sweat, mostly boob sweat. I'd rather be at home in the AC. But, no, I'll stick it out a few more hours, and maybe sneak off to re-apply some deodorant so I won't wake the dead.
"Is it just me, or are you counting down the days until you can enjoy a beer, or booze at all? I would kill for a cosmo!" Kristen said.
"I have champagne stashed in my fridge. I plan on celebrating with a big mimosa, which I probably won't be able to finish half of without feeling tipsy," I replied, letting out a short giggle.
We'd barely reached the shade when I heard someone calling my name. I finished tying my chestnut brown hair up in a pony tail, and turned to see two soldiers, dressed in their Class A's. A Captain with a Sergeant in tow.
Oh, my God! In my experience, men in dress uniforms, off-base out in public, rarely held good news.
"Oh, shit!" I whispered. Kristen turned to see what was wrong.
Sadly, I knew protocol. With two of them walking towards me, they would not be bearing good news. I gripped my purse to hide my shaking hands. The Sergeant's uniform included the Army Medical Regimental Corps Crest, meaning, he was in fact a medic.
Damn, damn, damn.
"Mrs. Harris?" The captain asked.
"I'm Mrs. Harris. What is it Captain?" The Captain glance
d briefly at the Sergeant standing next to him.
"Ma'am, why don't you sit down?"
I plopped down on the bench. This couldn't be happening, not now!
"The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your husband; Sawyer, was killed in action in Afghanistan—"
I bit my lip, attempting to hold back tears. "You're seriously reading me the fucking script right now?" I shouted, as a tear rolled down my cheeks. I didn't want people hovering around me. Now was the time to be stoic.
"Mrs. Harris, we're sorry for your loss." The Sergeant offered his detached condolences. He was a medic. They were required to have a medic to deliver devastating news. In case someone fainted, or, in my case, went into labor.
"I'm a doctor. I don't need medical assistance. Just leave!" I blurted. Kristen shakily pulled out her cell phone, then nodded to the soldiers, who slowly turned away, and left. Most people suffer disbelief first, then anger. Not me. I've known enough people who have died in combat that I no longer disbelieve news like this. It just pisses me the fuck off.
My kids would never meet their dad. There'd always be this big void to fill. I was afraid I wouldn't be enough for them.
"I'm going to call Jack. He's going to bring your friends here, okay? Take a deep breath, please don't pass out on me." Kristen pleaded as she frantically called her husband.
"Jack!—No, I'm fine. Is one of the caddy's with you named Q? ... You need to drive him here, NOW! ... Tell him Claire was just notified that her husband was killed in action ... Yes, drive him here. We're under a big oak tree, not far from the beverage tent. I think she might be in labor, so hurry!" Kristen ended the call quickly, and fanned me with a rolled catalog. "They're at the tenth hole, but they're driving back, five minutes tops. Any contractions?"
Kristen was freaking out. Q was probably freaking out too. I was definitely having contractions probably due to stress. The last thing we needed were both of us in labor. I had to keep my composure until I was alone. Please don't let my water break here!
"It's only a few contractions. It's normally like WWE SmackDown in there, so I'm use to it. Nothing abnormal. I want to go home." Another strong contraction hit me, and I held my belly as the muscles tensed.
Crap, crap, crap!
It had to be the stress of the news. I wasn't ready to have these babies yet. "I'm going to lay on the ground, and elevate my feet. I'm fine, please do not freak out on me, Kristen." Kristen eased to the ground next to me, and continued fanning.
"I don't know, sweetie. Your belly is really moving. I hope your hospital bag is packed."
My OB suggested I be ready to go starting at thirty-four weeks, and I didn't take that suggestion lightly. The Marine Corps taught me to always be prepared, and that motto carried over to my civilian life.
"It's packed, but it's in my SUV, which is parked in my driveway." Q would not be happy having to make a detour on the way to the hospital. He'd want to get me there and checked out immediately. I had a feeling I'd be there a while, and I wanted my bags there.
"Do you want some water?" Kristen suggested, her hands were slightly shaking.
"Better not. Someone convinced me having a c-section would be best, if these kiddos are breaking out today, I'll need an empty stomach." Not that having another scar would really matter, I admitted to myself. I noticed Kristen's pale face. "Seriously, Kristen, take a breath. A deep breath."
A golf cart sped to the curb, and stopped abruptly. Q jumped out, and rushed to my side.
"Her hospital bag is at her house. We need to go get it," Kristen exclaimed. Q gently touched my belly as another contraction ripped across my muscles. I sucked in a deep breath, as Q checked his watch. It was more discomfort than painful at this point.
"You're really pale. Where's the notification officer?" Q questioned.
"She told them to leave, and they left. You're taking her to the hospital, right?" Kristen yelled. She was not holding it together, and it made me feel bad. Really bad.
Q's jaw clenched, and I could tell he was pissed. Pissed at losing Sawyer, the notification officers leaving, the twins coming 'early'. My OB told me the goal was to make it at least to thirty-four weeks. The longer they baked in the oven, the less time they'd need in the NICU.
Jack wrapped Kristen in a hug, and whispered something in her ear, helping Kristen calm down. Thank God! She was starting to worry me.
Q turned to Clay and asked, "Clay, will you help me get her up, and into the cart?" Q pulled me into a sitting position. Clay stationed himself opposite of Q, and helped hoist me up. Once I was standing, Q threw one arm around my back the other under my knees, and I was lifted in the air.
"Q, I can walk you know," I quibbled. "I'm pregnant not disabled." I was seriously huge, I'd gained close to forty pounds. I'm petite so the only direction the babies could go was out, and I did not appreciate being handled like a sack of potatoes.
"Walking can speed up the labor process. You will walk only enough to get into the hospital," Q ordered. Putting me down in the golf cart, Q sat on one side, with Clay on the other.
"Don't you need to call Pohl? Or are you leaving him here?" I inquired, as the others loaded into the cart. Kristen and Jack squeezed in up front. Jack wrapped his arm around her. She visibly relaxed with his touch.
"His girlfriend is here. He can find his own way."
"Which one?" I questioned.
Jack pointed the driver towards the parking lot.
"Cop."
Aw, hell. I didn't have a lot of close friends, mainly because I didn't put up with bullshit. Trusting my gut and initial reactions to people served me well in the past. I saw no reason to change my method now.
"You're right, don't call him. She's weird. Like wants to snatch my babies weird."
Kristen frowned at my response. Q motioned the driver to his vehicle, and the golf cart came to a sudden stop, causing me to collide into Clay. Awkward.
I mumbled an apology, and attempted exited the golf cart. The big belly prevented me from making a swift exit, and Clay ended up lending me a hand.
"We're going to follow you to the hospital. Is that okay?" Kristen asked.
"Sure. Um, actually if one of you could drive my car to the hospital that would probably make things easier," I inquired and added, "It's not far from here." Please, oh please.
Normally, I frowned upon others driving my SUV. This was an emergency, and an exception to the rule. My best friend, Sarah Wilson, would need a vehicle once she managed to get a flight to Denver.
"I can ride with you. Jack and Kristen can meet us at the hospital to pick me up," Clay offered. Looking at Q, I left the decision to him.
Q quickly agreed. While he verified the hospital with Jack, another contraction hit. Clay waited patiently rubbing my lower back, while I breathed through it. At least someone was calm about this. I was faking the funk. If Sarah was here she would see through my ruse.
Clay helped me settle into Q's truck. Q drove to my townhome. He was keeping it together. Q was stoic, at least in a combat zone. I knew he wouldn't necessarily freak out about the babies coming today, but I wanted him to stay as calm as possible. Dealing with trauma in a combat zone was slightly different than labor and delivery.
Fishing through my purse, I pulled out my car keys, handing them to Clay.
"I hope you can drive a standard. If not, guess we'll wait for Sarah to get here."
I grew up in a ranching community pretty much everyone knew how to drive a standard. Tractors weren't exactly common in Denver though.
"I know how to drive a standard," Clay admitted.
Nodding I pulled out my phone and started typing. "I'm going to text Wilson. Okay, Q?"
"Why don't I call her once you're settled in the hospital?"
Q was being way more optimistic. These babies were coming out, and soon. My OB might be able to delay for a few hours to allow Wilson time to get here, but they would be here before long. Today would be the day.
"She needs to book a flight. You can call her once we figure out what the babies are doing." I finished typing and sent the text to Sarah. Fuck, if anything I needed my friend here as soon as possible. Don't get me wrong I loved Q, but I needed Wilson.
Claire: Might be in Labor OMW to hospital with Q. Sawyer KIA
Q pulled into my townhome complex. He waited for Clay adjust into my SUV, before leaving for the hospital.
My phone beeped. At least Sarah knew better than to try to call and talk now. I glanced down at her phone, and read the message.
Wilson: Headed to airport be there ASAP! Love you!
######
My OB delayed long enough for Wilson to arrive, the twins were fine, but needed extra monitoring. Happily married one minute, and a widowed single mother of two, the next. Life was cruel. It would be hard, but I had to focus on the future for my babies.
Enforcer Page 1
