Mickey's Baby

by Annie J. Rose

  “I’ll make sure your car is back here by the time you’re done shopping,” he said. “Have a good day.” He kissed me lightly.

  Elise was waiting outside the cabin, smiling like a fool.

  “Shut it. We’re not back together. We just—had a bonus night,” I said, reminding myself she didn’t need to know anything about the drug dealers or me needing him to pick me up from the hotel the night before.

  We were only a few minutes late for the appointment at the first flower shop. We looked at digital images of the florist’s wedding arrangements and he showed us some fresh flowers he’d pulled for the color scheme. When he went back to the cooler for some lilies, I nudged Elise.

  “So are all his arrangements bigger than me or is it my imagination?”

  “That bridal bouquet right there is big enough to cover my baby bump if I was eight months along!” Elise giggled. “I think we need to talk to him about scale and sizing and the fact that this is a wedding, not a float for the freaking Rose Parade.”

  I laughed, but we got serious when he came back in with lilies. Elise promptly waved her hand in the air as the cloyingly sweet smell wafted in. “I’m sorry. I can’t do lilies. It’s the smell. They’re great, but the pregnancy hormones—things smell really strong to me. Sorry,” she said.

  He huffed and carried his lilies back to the cooler.

  “Let’s just go. He’s not exactly doing the kind of flowers we want.”

  “I’m not sneaking out. I’m going to thank him for his time,” she said.

  “Okay, I’m going to get us iced coffee. Decaf for you and the baby,” I said. “Meet you out front.”

  When Elise rejoined me, I surprised her with a chocolate chunk walnut cookie from the coffee shop. She squealed.

  “I should so name the baby after you,” she said, taking a huge bite.

  “Uh, I thought we settled that,” I teased. “Karin Junior. Don’t act like you’re not ready to monogram all of his or her baby stuff with those initials.”

  “Let’s say it’s on the list of possible names,” she said with a wink. “We really like Willow for a girl, and for a boy we talked about using Connor as a middle name because Bren and Connor have always been so close.”

  “Um, Karin Connor doesn’t sound that good together. They’d call him KC. Not good,” I warned.

  “Ha ha,” she said sarcastically, “I like Willow Jade a lot for a girl though.”

  “It’s pretty,” I said grudgingly.

  “Let’s go get some flowers. I hope the next place doesn’t have giant arrangements.”

  “Well, the bright side is if you were pretending not to be pregnant, that guy’s enormous flowers would hide it. Even from the side.”

  “Or I could just ask Bren to dig up an entire flowering shrub for me to carry roots and all down the aisle,” she said, “it’s cheaper and has the same vibe.”

  “True. You wanted laid back island flowers that looked like you’d just picked them.”

  “Well, I wanted to go pick them ourselves, but somebody insisted that wasn’t practical,” she said pointedly.

  “Because it’s not. Plus I’m not going to go get six hundred bug bites wading around to get enough yellow flowers out in the bush on your wedding day.”

  “Speaking of bush,” she said with an eye roll. “I haven’t shaved in weeks because it makes me itch. So when we do our nails for my bachelorette party, I need to book a waxing appointment.”

  “Getting scraggly down there?” I teased.

  “Yes! And it’s not easy to see around Baby Karin Junior who kind of blocks my view of the area.”

  “Well, have Brendan shave it for you. He’s familiar with the region,” I said.

  “Oh my God, no! I am not asking him to do that. He would, but I’d die of embarrassment.”

  “Well, I’m not that good of a friend, honey. I’d give you a kidney, but I’m not shaving your bush for you.”

  “I didn’t ask you to,” she said, affronted.

  “You were hinting. Just get it waxed. There are people paid to deal with this kind of problem,” I teased.

  “I know. It’s just weird.”

  We drove to the next flower shop and settled in. The woman who owned the place brought us cold bottled water and set out some fresh mango and pineapple. To say that my precious BFF lunged for the pineapple would be an understatement. She had her mouth stuffed so full of local juicy fruit that I had to talk for her.

  “Elise and Brendan want a low-key wedding, outdoors with just their closest friends. She flagged some of these arrangements on Pinterest,” I said, showing her my phone and lying out my ass because I found the pictures and she just approved them.

  “So a very organic, naturalistic style,” the woman said. “How do you feel about this?”

  She showed us a series of photos on a tablet that depicted table arrangements in saturated orange tones with some beach grass in there for texture. Elise, still chewing, pointed and clapped her hands excitedly.

  “She likes that one,” I snorted, “and she’s normally more articulate. She’s just hungry and eating for two.”

  “Help yourself,” the woman said, “mango was the only thing I could keep down when I was pregnant with our first daughter. Except for Hostess cupcakes. We’re not talking great nutrition there, but she came out with ten fingers and ten toes.”

  I loved this woman and her laid back, reassuring attitude. I showed her color samples and emphasized that Elise wanted a small bouquet.

  “I wouldn’t recommend flowers in your hair. So many brides want that, but occasionally a stinging insect will be attracted to a flower crown during an outdoor ceremony. Either you get someone swatting at their own head in the wedding video or you get stung and have a swollen, miserable face to ruin your day,” she said.

  “I like you. You’re practical,” Elise said, finally taking a break from the pineapple.

  “Pro tip—if you swish with baking soda and water it’ll help with the mouth sores you get from all the acidic fruit,” she said.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Here, how about this?” she said, offering us the tablet with a few bouquet photos to choose from.

  “Third one. Definitely. I want mostly yellow, but you can accent with orange or red if you want.”

  “And the date is what you told me on the phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll ask you to fill this out with an approximate number of arrangements you need and then I’ll submit a bid to you through email,” she said, “in about forty-eight hours. I like to check with my vendors.”

  “Sounds great,” Elise said.

  We left, happy as could be, and went to grab lunch. I was only slightly nervous being out and about, but I knew at least one badass O’Shea was nearby keeping watch over us. I was relieved that Elise didn’t notice we were tailed by them, and I was thankful for the day with my best friend.

  Chapter 23

  Mickey

  The windows were rolled down, the breeze blowing past as I drove out to the beach on a perfect, sunny day. I didn’t have dives booked till the afternoon since my newly hired full-timer, Jackson, had taken over the morning ones for the week. He was working out well, and I wondered why I’d waited so long to hire someone to carry part of the load. Just for the hell of it, I cranked up some Jimmy Buffet. There was nothing like the island life. The salt air and sunshine was half the reason I moved down here for a different kind of life.

  My phone rang in the cupholder. I lowered the volume on the radio and answered.

  “Herrera here, Mickey. You got a minute?”

  I pulled in at the beach and said yes.

  “Looks like our boy Dominguez is cleaning house.”

  “What’s that mean?” I asked. “It doesn’t sound good.”

  “It means we just tagged and bagged the second underling in thirty-six hours. He’s got loose ends to tie up now that there’s photo evidence against him. He’s bou
nd to want to silence as many of his foot soldiers as he can. The ones he can’t threaten into submission—ones without kids or girlfriends probably—he just double taps them and dumps the body.”

  I couldn’t form words. The image of Karin lying face up on the ground with two holes drilled in her forehead and her eyes staring sightless at the sky made me sick. I was glad he was on speaker, so I didn’t drop the phone. I white-knuckled the steering wheel even though I was in park. Nothing could happen to her. Nothing.

  “You there, Mick?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I managed.

  “I’m going to take Karin into protective custody until we can get a warrant and bring him in. I don’t want her to be out there where he can get his hands on her.”

  “I agree with you, but she won’t go for that.”

  “I hadn’t figured on giving her a choice,” Herrera said.

  “I’ll try. And I’ll keep an extra close eye on her until you can bring in Dominguez.”

  “I’ll take you at your word, but I haven’t even got a judge in town to swear out a warrant until Thursday,” he warned.

  I thanked him and then called Billy who was on the girls’ security detail for the day. I wanted him to keep his head on a swivel, although the warning wasn’t really necessary. He was a kickass soldier like the rest of the O’Sheas, and I trusted him completely. Still, it never hurt to know trouble was closing in. It honed the senses a bit.

  I ran my afternoon dive on autopilot. I couldn’t have said afterward what we saw or if they even enjoyed themselves. I needed to head home and see Karin. I looked forward to her being there, to coming home to her. Even though we were going to have a tough conversation. Seriously, there was zero chance that she would agree to go into hiding or be locked up. She wouldn’t last two days caged up in some safe house where she couldn’t go outside and wander around and take pictures or lay on the beach or work in her studio. I understood. I didn’t do cooped up very well myself. It was one reason I was fine with such a small and basic cabin. I didn’t spend much time there. I was either at the beach or in the courtyard hanging out with my brothers and their families. I liked open spaces, so I felt for her. But I’d also say or do anything to convince her to make safe choices.

  Chapter 24

  Karin

  I hung out in the courtyard and read part of a book on my phone and took breaks to help Brandi chase Lilly around. She wasn’t walking yet, but she had one of those walkers with the beeping toys on it and wheels underneath and she could zoom around the paved courtyard like she was a Formula One racer. We played a game where I chased her and she squealed and scampered to her mom. Then Brandi would give me some kind of chalky pink blob out of a canister that she called a yogurt melt and I’d hold it up and Lilly would zip right over to me.

  “Yeah, it’s like a dog treat,” Brandi giggled. “Try not to think about it that way.”

  “I won’t. I’m rewarding her for working those chunky little legs so hard to come to me.”

  “Don’t you love those chubby thighs?” Brandi asked. “I could just eat them.”

  “I know. I’m not actually a baby person myself, but this one—you did good. She is so stinking cute. I don’t know how anyone could resist her. But—when do chubby thighs quit being cute? Asking for a friend obviously,” I said.

  Brandi shook her head, “I think the only people worried about thigh size are women. Connor never complained about mine even before I had the baby, and twenty pounds stuck around after the pregnancy.”

  “You look fantastic. And you have Lilly to show for it.”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty crazy about her,” she said. She beamed. It was easy to see how happy she and Connor were together and how much they adored their cute little nugget.

  After a while, I headed back to my cabin, but Mickey called and asked me to wait for him at his. While I waited, I was surprised how much I liked knowing he was coming home to me. He had given me a key, and I let myself right in like I belonged there. I drank some juice and leaned on the counter, looking at the table that now had only three chairs. The one we’d destroyed with our crazy sex had been beyond repair. I flushed a little at the thought.

  I heard a step on the porch and turned toward the door.

  “It’s me, Karin,” he called before he entered.

  My heart did a flip. I told myself that was because I was nervous about the drug dealers. Not because Mickey O’Shea came home to me. I smiled at him, not knowing if I should rush into his arms to be kissed or just hang back.

  “Hi,” I said, trying to be casual and failing completely because my eyes were just drinking him in, his tan, his muscular shoulders and chest, those nice pecs that I loved to rest my cheek on when we were breathless and satisfied.

  “What do you think about going out to dinner?” he asked. “I like to keep you all to myself, but it might be nice for a change. I’ll even let you pick where we go.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let me get changed and I’ll be right back. Fifteen minutes tops.”

  Part of me wanted to pout because the chances of getting laid immediately decreased when a restaurant was involved. At his cabin we could throw together some pasta and vegetables and then have sex, which was much more efficient in my opinion than dressing up and going out. But if he wanted to buy me dinner and show me off, I wasn’t about to complain. I was proud to be seen with him and to walk in on his arm like I was his girlfriend. Which I kind of was, but I didn’t plan to waste time worrying about it.

  I jogged over to my cabin and plugged in my flat iron. Mickey liked it when I wore my hair down, which I almost never did. I peeled off the tank and shorts I wore when I was being a hermit in my studio editing pics all day. I was glad to have an excuse to dress up for him. I pulled out a white mini dress I’d never worn. I bought it after our hotel room got trashed when we were first on the island for work. Brandi had taken Elise and me shopping, and I’d fallen in love with the dress. While I’d wear a regular sundress to grocery shop or whatever, this one was a little too short and showed a hint too much of my bare shoulders to wear in the daytime. It tied behind my neck like a halter and hugged my curves. I put on makeup, straightened my dark hair and stepped into a pair of shoes that were cute and only hurt a little as long as I didn’t walk too far. Wearing heels made me feel more dressed up, and Mickey was so much bigger than me that it made me feel extra feminine for some reason.

  When I stepped out to lock the door behind me, he was there waiting.

  “Hi,” I said with a gasp, shocked to find him so close, waiting right outside.

  “Wow. Karin, you look incredible,” he said, leaning in to kiss my shoulder. My nipples tightened and I felt a buzz between my legs that told me we weren’t going to dinner anytime soon if I didn’t stop this.

  “You didn’t change?” I said, stepping back reluctantly.

  “I will. Just come over and wait on me?”

  “Were you being my bodyguard?” I said suspiciously.

  “Maybe,” he said, a sly smile on his face.

  He had never followed me to my own cabin before that was just across the courtyard. Why didn’t he think I was perfectly safe in my own home in a circle of cabins on an old resort that acted as the O’Shea compound? He wanted me to go sit at his place while he changed clothes. Suspicion tracked up my spine. Mickey took my hand in his and led me to his cabin.

  “I’ll be ready in just a minute,” he said, looking at me for a long moment, “Have I told you how amazing you look?”

  “Just twice,” I said coyly.

  “Then allow me to say it again,” he stepped in closer, nuzzled my ear, “you look good enough to eat.”

  He left me practically trembling. I waited, perched on the edge of his couch, my thighs squeezed together to try to ease the ache between them that he’d started. In just a few minutes, he was in gray dress pants and a white shirt, walking into the living room while he rolled the sleeves up his forearms. I really liked his forearms. I wanted to lick
one, but I’d promised to go out to dinner with him, and I’d keep my word. Even if it was getting awfully hot in here.

  He drove us to a quiet, out of the way restaurant, far enough from the tourist areas that it wasn’t crowded. It was secluded and sweet with the sound of the waves just outside. I sipped chilled white wine while we waited for our meals. He reached out and took my hand, brushed his thumb across my knuckles. I caught concern on his brow for a moment and squeezed his hand.

  “What do you miss most about New York?” he asked. Was he thinking I wanted to go back to the city? Puzzled, I narrowed my eyes.

  “The pizza,” I said, “and sometimes the hot dogs. That’s about it.”

  “Really? I would have thought that you’d miss friends, the nightlife, maybe some photos you meant to take out in Brooklyn, something on your portfolio bucket list.”

  “You seem to be thinking about the city a lot. Do you want to go visit there sometime?” I asked warily.

  “Maybe someday. But I was thinking how, first of all, Chicago’s pizza is far superior to New York’s—we both came from cities and there are things you miss about home. I know that.”

  “I like where I’m at, Mick.”

  “What are your thoughts on relocating for a bit? Going to visit some friends maybe?” he prodded.

  I shook my head, “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” he hedged. I pressed him.

  “Mickey, either you’re trying to get rid of me with a remarkable lack of subtlety or you’re not telling me something,” I insisted.

  “Fine,” he said, and I sensed him giving in, “Captain Herrera called. They’re coming up with a lot of dead ends on the case, literally. Looks like our boy Dominguez is cleaning house and tying up loose ends.”

  “He’s killing people,” I said in a hush. He nodded and gripped my hand as I realized how real the danger was.

  “You need to get out of here until the man is locked up,” Mickey said gravely.

  “I can’t. What about Elise? If I leave six weeks before her wedding, she’s gonna know something’s up,” I protested.