Page 1 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

Chapter One - Emily

I take a breath as I relax into the visitor’s chair a little more. There might be patches of apricot streaking across the sunset sky in Chicago, overlapped with even prettier streaks of cotton candy pink, but inside North Eastern Memorial Hospital it’s a somber affair. But more than anything, I wish everything for the candy-coated skies and lollipops to extend to my adopted mother, Laura.

“How are you feeling today?” I ask, looking into the hollow sunken cavities of Laura’s hazel eyes. I used to be able to see the bright green and gold flecks in my adopted mother’s eyes, but every time I visit, the light in her eyes is slowly dimming.

Laura reaches out her pale, rashed up hand, patting mine. “I’m fine dear, just fine. You don’t worry about me,” she replies in a deep croak, coughing a little as I hand her a tissue and a lackluster smile.

If I could walk onto the first floor of the hospital and settle the bill to have Laura’s liver transplanted right pronto, I would. Sighing, I drag my hand back uncomfortably, wishing I could grow a magical money tree and make her well enough to skip right out the door. It would have to be this way, given my run of life’s luck. Apparently, somebody opened the luck drawer and gave me the scraps.

“Hey, don’t you worry about anything. I’m going to be able to pay for your operation real soon,” I remind her in the most cheerful voice I can muster, but it falls flat at the end, and I know it.

There’s still a little light left outside, and I don’t like to close the windows until the shade of sunset has finished. I wantmy mom to receive as much of its light as possible. She deserves it and then some. She’s been my mother officially since I was the tender age of ten, but honestly, it feels likeforeveris a good fit for both of us. We have some kind of randomly, beautiful kismet affair going on between us.

Laura turns her face to mine, her copper-colored curls framed around her face. Her hair’s lost its luster too, but I try not to imagine her like she is now. I do my best to remember her just like she was eight months ago, when her rare liver illness hadn’t caught up with her and she was fully functional. Back then she had a halo of soft, loose curls that framed her angelic face—and yes, I classified her as an angel in my life. She saved me from a place… a place that no child should ever have to endure.

“I know you will. Don’t worry about it, I really am fine. They’re looking after me here, and I’ll probably be home before you know it,” she replies with fake cheer, the light dying even more as she says it.

“Okay.” I smile, not wanting to kill her optimism. It’s unfortunate that my detective job isn’t cutting it yet, but that’s one area I can’t complain about. I’ve been on the fast track in the Chicago Police Department since I was inducted. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, and for many reasons. “And you’re probably right.”

“That’s the spirit.” She coughs and splutters into her tissue as I look around her room. I’ve done my best to change the glum underbelly of the long-term care unit, bringing in fresh flowers, magazines, her favorite soaps, books, and reminding her that Peaches—her cat, a big fat ginger ball of fur is waiting for her to get back. Sometimes, when I’m allowed, I bring him into the hospital so she can enjoy his company. They’ve both been in my life as far back as I can remember. That works in bringing her joy, and that’s the aim until I can get her out.

But the truth is, I’m barely scraping by paying for her hospital care. I’m taking every overtime shift available, and my boss can see me hustling. I’m hoping somehow, someway, it’s going to help me gain a promotion I want in the department, but I’m not keen on any special favors. I want it because I deserve the new spot, and in due course, I’m determined to have it.

“What have they said about you being on the donor list? Any more progress?” I inquire, anxiety laced in my tone.

“No more progress, but I guess no news is good news, right? I think I’m feeling a little better today as well,” she repeats as if trying to convince herself.

“Good.” A twitch resides at the side of my mouth. It’s painfully obvious that she’s lying. Her pallor is worse than ever, and she’s scratching her itchy skin, which is what the condition does.

“I had to be the one to cop a rare liver illness where the blasted thing won’t recover. It’s unheard of, but if anything, I’m rare,” Mom adds, her voice fading, making me sad. I think it’s enough for one day, because if I listen to any more it’s going to break my heart.

“Hey, keep your head up. I’m working on it, I promise, but I’ve got to jet. I’ll be back in on Wednesday, okay?” I say softly, torn between wanting to leave, but wanting to stay simultaneously.

“Yes, you go now, but I can’t wait for you to return. And I don’t want you worrying about me. You’ve got scary bad guys all over the city of Chicago to catch. Go do that. I love you.”

“You’re right about that, and we can’t catch them fast enough,” I mutter with a wry chuckle.

Hugging my mother tight, her frail arms shake, and I hate to let her go, but I do, and by the time I get out, the sky’s faded tocharcoal with every chance of rain. As I drive, I chew on my lip, thinking about what I can do.

Maybe I can get a loan.Be serious, Emily. Who’s going to give you a loan?How are you even going to be approved for one?I don’t have any assets other than the car I own, and it took me long enough to save for it. It was the one present I gave myself after graduating from the police academy.

As I travel back to my one-bedroom Lincoln Park apartment—a miracle I can afford, in and of itself, in the first place. As my jaw tightens so does my grip on the wheel. Yes, that’s going to be the only way I can pay for it. I’m going to have to take out a loan. I think about it obsessively on the way home, and who might be able to help me.

It does nothing for my nerves, that’s for sure. Stopping the whirring helicopter in my head, I give myself a break, pulling into the outdoor parking space and heading inside. It’s a safe neighborhood for me to live in, that’s why I picked it. Me living on the crime-ridden side of Chicago wouldn’t have put me in the best position, and I didn’t feel like taking the cheap rent only to put three to four locks on my front door. Just the one is fine.

Sighing, I shake my head as I enter the complex, spotting my friend’s cars parked out on the street. “So much for living in a safe neighborhood,” I murmur out the side of my mouth, but it’s my own fault. I’m the one who gave the apartment keys to my friends Stacy and Kiara. Being part of the foster care system has left some wounds, one of them being not wanting to be alone or have others feeling left out without a place to go. Hence the reason I gave them both spare keys, while also making sure if anything happens to me, somebody will know about it.

I’m bummed about Mom, but with the two of them here, I know it won’t be long before they shake me out of any slump I’min. I kind of want to be alone, but again, I brought this setup on myself.

Stacy is already sitting comfortably on my couch, her feet up and my remote in her hand.

“Hey! Here she is. We waited outside, but it looks like the sky is going to open up, so we came inside for shelter,” Stacy explains, looking comfortable as I smile and muss up her hair in passing.

Kiara’s otherwise entertaining herself in my pantry, grabbing potato crisps and dip. She holds up the bag with a cheesy smile. “And let’s not forget the stellar snacks. We definitely came for these.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Slumping down into the chair, I stare past them as Kiara plops down next to Stacy. They play fight over the bag, eventually opening it and chomping away and looking at me.

“What’s going on here? With the long face? You’re not going to do that,” Kiara says, her face scrunched up.

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