“It’s faster to just shoot them,” my father replied with the same disregard for human life as Micah once had.
“Those are my men,” Moretti spoke up. “I’m sure they don’t know what Sharon’s done. If I’m there, they won’t cause any problems.”
My dad didn’t appear to like that idea, “I’m sure seeing you will be a huge shock for her, but if she’s armed, Vitale, she might shoot you herself.”
He shook his head, “No she won’t. I know what she said sounds damning, but she plotted this so she wouldn’t see me. You may not believe me, but I don’t think my daughter hates me—she just wanted to take my power. She couldn’t have done this if she had to face me. Strange as it sounds, no matter what she said, my daughter loves me. Using him,” he said, pointing to Micah, “was so she wouldn’t have to watch.”
I don’t think anyone in the room could accept what he said, other than himself, but sometimes the lies we believe are the only things that keep us going.
“You don’t have to be there,” he said as he looked to Botachelli.
Botachelli’s eyebrows rose in unison as he answered my father, “I didn’t plan on it. My men,” he said as he motioned to Micah and David, “will handle it; I’m starting to believe they can handle anything.”
Neither Micah nor David smiled, but I detected both of them straightening slightly. Honor in the mafia is highly prized; Botachelli had just given them a top honor—especially since I’m sure, before the outcome of this nightmare unfolded, he had plans to kill them.
“I would like to be there,” Jonathan spoke up.
My father nodded. “Micah, you set it up and tell my men where you want them and how you want them to respond. They’ll be under your command, understood? And you,” he stated, turning to me, “need to go back to the hotel.”
I took Micah’s hand and squeezed, “I need time with him first.” It came out sounding strained, but I couldn’t help it. I needed Micah. I needed his arms to hold me. I needed his chest to lay my head against. I needed his lips on mine. I needed him. I wasn’t after sex, although after I watched everyone’s faces, I think that’s what they thought I was referring to, but Micah knew I simply needed him. We had an incredible bond, and I think both of us needed the relaxation that only seemed to happen when we held each other.
He put his arm around me and we walked into the house. We passed the master suite and went to the bedroom Ryan had been using.
I wanted to talk, but I couldn’t. He tucked himself perfectly against my back as we stretched out on the bed, and then he reached around and gently stroked my stomach. “Annalisa, is everything okay—with the baby? You haven’t said anything, and normally you say something every time he moves.”
“I think he’s out of room,” I stated honestly. “My stomach is so tight and he’s dropped so low that I don’t think he can wiggle.” I heard Micah swallow; I knew that last statement scared him. “He still moves, Micah, but not like when he had more space.”
“You look thin to me; haven’t you been eating?”
I loved that concern in his voice. “It’s the same issue; space. I’m hungry all the time, but I don’t get more than a few bites down before I feel full. I think he planted his feet in my stomach,” I teased slightly.
“Have you been sleeping?”
I was afraid to answer this one. “Yes.”
“With Giovanni?”
That actually stung. I know he didn’t mean sexually, at least I didn’t think he meant it that way, but rather wondering if I’d pulled a Ryan.
“No.”
He propped up on his elbow and leaned over slightly so he could get in the edge of my sight, “You don’t need me next to you anymore?”
I rolled over, finding myself tucked underneath his broad chest and shoulders. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get over needing you. Don’t be angry, but when Jonathan—”
“Giovanni,” he interrupted.
I shook my head no, “After you and I talked, Jonathan realized I couldn’t sleep, he started putting Ambien in my evening meals.” I could see that it instantly made him angry. “He checked it out first and made sure it was safe for me and the baby. I guess he didn’t know what else to do to get me to go to sleep—and I wasn’t about to ask for something else.”
“What happened between you two was—was just an act?”
I closed my eyes. I still didn’t like that memory. “I was so scared that he was lying to me—so scared that he actually had something else in mind.” I opened my eyes and looked into his. He wasn’t angry anymore, but he seemed so sad. “There was something between us to keep his—his body from—” I couldn’t say it. “He didn’t hurt me, Micah. He scared the shit out of me, but that was all.”
“I’m sorry.”
I brushed his cheek gently with the tips of my fingers and then rose slightly to kiss him.
“I’m sorry,” he continued, “about what you saw.”
“I can’t—can’t talk about that, Micah,” I said, feeling the pain spread across my chest like a heart attack. It was a literal, physical pain connected to that memory. The hardest part was knowing that I’d been in that same desperate struggle with him once.
“But I need to talk. You don’t have to say anything, but if you can’t handle this then stop me.”
I stayed silent.
“The first time was after she called him off you.”
The weight on my chest grew heavier. I could tell he wanted to unburden himself, but I wasn’t sure I could let him continue. His words, ‘the first time,’ meant they’d been together more than once. I gripped the inside of my lower lip and bit down, trying to hold off on saying the word, ‘stop.’
“I hated her for how much she enjoyed my ugliness, but I hated her more for showing me that I could enjoy it again. It was as if she stole what you gave me.”
“That’s not true.”
“But it is true—“
I opened my mouth to object when he stopped me.
“Shhh, baby, just let me finish. The next time I saw her, she wanted me again,” he paused, and swallowed, “but this time without the pain.”
“You made love to her?” I asked weakly. I wasn’t sure which idea I loathed more; Micah as an animal, or Micah being passionate with someone who didn’t deserve the experience.
“No, Annalisa, I’ve only done that with one person, and that’s you. I gave her what she wanted, but as far as her satisfying something inside me beyond the physical, she didn’t. I finally realized that the good person inside of me is you—you are that good part of me. Without you, I’m something empty and ugly. When I’m with you, I’m a man, a good man who can be gentle, a man who can care, a man who can feel love instead of just having sex.
“It’s cliché for a man to say, ‘she didn’t mean anything to me,’ but she didn’t, she couldn’t; you are the one who means everything to me. I know how much this hurt you, and I understand that I can’t take that hurt away, but I don’t want any doubts in your mind—she didn’t mean anything to me.”
The pain was still in my chest, but I whispered to him that I believed him. If it had been any other reason for him to have been with another woman, I don’t think his words would have had meaning, but this was different and I knew he felt he had no choice. “How much time do we have?”
“It’s twelve now, but I have a lot to get done—maybe an hour before I need to leave and set this up.”
“Then for the next hour,” I said softly as I closed my eyes and truly relaxed for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, “don’t let go.”
He cocooned me into himself, his arms around me, and his leg draped over mine, “I won’t, baby, I won’t.”
I fell into one of the deepest sleeps of my life.
CHAPTER thirty-six
When I woke, I was facing away, wrapped securely in strong arms, but they weren’t Micah’s. One flutter of my eyelids and I saw Ryan’s big tattoo—they’d traded out.
I
rolled away from him.
He moaned and yawned, and peeped at me through heavy lids.
“Where’s Micah?!” I asked sitting up, panicking as I realized hours had passed. “What time is it?”
He pulled out his cell and glanced at the display, “Four.”
“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I quickly uttered, attempting to get it out before my emotions stopped me. I knew what he was doing was dangerous, and even with all the help from my father’s men, I was scared.
“You were so tired, baby-girl, he didn’t want to wake you, so he asked if I’d stay with you.”
“Are they all gone?”
“Your dad is here with Botachelli—well, at least he was when I came in and laid down with you.”
I rose slowly, my back ached and my maternity skirt felt oddly cold. I looked at Ryan’s left hip and noticed his jeans were dark and the hem of his tee-shirt looked wet. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as he noticed the wet place in the bed.
“Oh, damn—Ryan, I’m so sorry—I—I—think I peed the bed.”
He turned scarlet, but then he laughed, “I’m freaking glad that it was you because I was afraid this was my fault.”
Nausea rushed up inside my throat; I covered my mouth and ran for the bathroom. I hadn’t been sick like this since my first trimester. I was on my knees, hugging the toilet and heaving when I felt one of Ryan’s hands on my shoulder as his other rubbed my back. “Nerves,” I stated unsteadily as my stomach tried to return to its proper placement in my anatomy. I heard water running and then a damp wash cloth was being placed in my hand.
“Leese, you’re okay right? You’re not having any contractions are you?”
I looked up to see he was sniffing the edge of his tee-shirt.
“This doesn’t smell like urine, but kind of like…” he took another sniff, “like something sweet.”
“I’m only thirty-four or thirty-five weeks along. It’s too early for—aah!”
His face turned ashen and his eyes went round, “What?”
I couldn’t answer him for the moment as this strange tightening rippled through me. It was as if someone was trying to pull my belly button to the bottom of my tailbone. I’d felt this sensation off and on since the day Trent helped me escape, but it had been gentle like a mild muscle ache. I thought I’d strained myself by dragging all those vines around my ankles—but this wasn’t gentle—this was hard and I couldn’t talk as it gripped my attention.
I heard the bedroom door open, and my father was saying something. Ryan spun around and left me sitting there, and I heard him say, ‘We’ve got bigger problems!’
My dad was now standing in the doorway of the bathroom appearing nervous for the first time since I’d met him, “Are you having that baby now?!”
“Well, it’s not my choice!” I cried out as I inhaled the first good breath since the pain ebbed.
“Sharon told him she needed more time—plane trouble or some bullshit.”
Ryan had his phone in hand and was pushing numbers.
“Who are you calling?” my dad demanded.
“Freaking 911, who’d you think?”
He snatched the phone from Ryan and snapped it closed.
“What the hell did you do that for? She needs an ambulance!”
“There is a truck with ninety million dollars worth of cocaine, guns, and mafia members who are going to be in the driveway in ten minutes—I don’t think we can chance the police coming with the ambulance. We’ll take her there in the car.”
“Micah’s coming back?” I asked with a quiver as I tried to stand.
“Yes, but—”
“I can wait for him to get here.”
“No you can’t!” Ryan said about five octaves higher than a normal male.
“Ryan, it’s ten minutes,” I reasoned, “babies take hours to arrive.”
He took my hand and helped me to the bed, but as soon as I reached it I could feel another contraction mounting. I didn’t want to tell him—it certainly wouldn’t take a genius to figure out my pains were only about one minute apart, but he saw it in my face anyway.
“You can’t wait,” he pled.
“Call him, Dad—please—call—him,” I said through fractured breaths.
It didn’t take that box truck ten minutes to arrive with Micah at the wheel. I could hear the tires screeching on the concrete as it roared into the yard.
“Leese, I’m sorry but I have to take your underwear off and see,” Ryan said with a hard swallow, “if I can see the baby’s head.”
Even though I knew Ryan’s mom was a nurse, I didn’t know if he had a clue about what he was doing—of course, at the moment, it felt like my body was in a wrestling match with the incredible hulk, I really didn’t care what he took off of me. I nodded as he reached under my skirt and pulled off my panties.
The first thing I saw was blood.
“That’s okay, right?” I asked, needing him to nod, speak, make eye contact, something—anything other than to stare with that look on his face.
Micah burst into the room with my dad right behind him.
They both froze.
“Oh shit,” escaped my father’s lips.
“We’re not making it to the car,” Ryan announced, “but I sure would feel better if you son-of-a-bitches would call for that ambulance!”
My Dad was in a tug-of-war with Micah over his cell phone, telling him he couldn’t call unless someone got that truck the hell out of there first. I saw Micah turn.
“Micah!!” I screamed, “Fuck that truck! I need you!!”
Just then, Jonathan appeared in the doorway with a similar reaction as the other men in the room. My Dad told Jonathan to take the truck and the other men and get out of there. He was motionless for a second until my Dad popped him in the face with an open hand and shouted, “Ora! Giovanni! Ora!”
I was relieved to hear my dad talking with a 911 operator, but my biggest relief was that Micah was beside me holding my hand and telling me it was all going to be okay. Then he was shouting the house address to my dad.
“Ca—call—my—m—mom,” I tried to get out.
“Leese, don’t push. Stop pushing!” Ryan demanded.
I felt the horrible discomfort of his fingers working their way inside me.
“Stop pushing!” he repeated, removing his hand, and then sliding my skirt up to my hips.
“I can’t help it!” I snapped back.
“Please Leese,” he begged, “stop! The baby’s scalp is turning blue—you’ve gotta stop pushing!”
“What’s wrong?!”
I didn’t recognize the voice at first, but it was Micah—and it sounded like he was on the verge of freaking out.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” my dad growled at Ryan.
“Dad, leave him alone!”
“What’s wrong?” Micah repeated.
“The cord is tangled around his neck; if she keeps pushing, he’ll strangle.”
“Leese, stop pushing, baby!”
I wanted to stop, but my body seemed to have a mind of its own. I started blowing panted breaths through my mouth so that my lungs wouldn’t have enough air for me to bear down.
“Can’t you do something?” my dad asked Ryan.
I watched his head lift as he gave a brief look at the two men, “My God, don’t you people ever watch the freaking Discovery channel! Hold on, Leese. We’re out of time, baby girl, hold on.”
I felt the sensation like he was trying to push the baby back inside me. I could feel my skin ripping and burning as his fingers, once again, worked inside my opening. I didn’t cry out, but I couldn’t stop the rush of tears from the pain.”
“Got it!” he yelled, “Push, Leese, push!”
There was more burning as I bore down, and then, suddenly, I felt a ‘pop.’ I knew the baby’s head had cleared.
“Get me a freaking towel,” Ryan yelled as he worked the baby’s shoulders out.
With almost no eff
ort at that point, I felt my son slide out from inside me. “Is he okay?! Is he okay?”
Ryan took the towel from my father’s shaking hands and wiped the blue and motionless baby’s face.
“Oh God!” I cried out, “He’s dead—he’s dead!”
Micah was holding on to me, sobbing and praying as we watched Ryan place his mouth over the tiny mouth and nose. He gave a little breath.
Nothing.
He wiped the inside of the baby’s mouth again, and then blew once more. I watched the tiny arms and legs shudder convulsively and then I heard a tiny cough, followed by the most beautiful sound on earth—he started to cry. His bluish color quickly turned to pink as his cries increased in intensity.
My dad had Ryan by the back of the neck giving him a shake, yelling, “You did it! You did it! Son-of-a-bitch, you did it!”
“Yeah,” Ryan said with tears on his cheeks, “Get me another towel, would ya?”
That was when we heard the sound of a distant siren. The ambulance was on the way—a little late, but at least on the way.
By the time the paramedics rushed into the room, Ryan had wrapped the baby in a towel (as best he could with the umbilical cord still attaching the baby and I together), and had placed him on my stomach.
“Wow,” the first paramedic said as he came over to the bed, “what’d ya call us for? Looks like you knew what you’re doing,” he said giving a laugh and patting Ryan on the back.
I wondered for a second how he knew, and then I realized what a bloody mess Ryan still was. My dad turned to Ryan and happily announced that he was so glad he decided not to shoot him.
Boy, did that ever cause all the emergency workers to give him a strange look!
They started me on an IV, as another EMT said the cord needed to be cut now, not later. They placed two clamps and then turned to Micah and handed him a pair of scissors.
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