Page 4 of Fatal Love
“Boy.” Beatrice shot him another death glare. “Our baby is a boy.”
God, she was stubborn. Always had been.
He loved that about her.
Around them, the summer night was in full swing. Tree frogs and night insects hummed and buzzed, calling to each other. An owl hooted in the trees across the road.
Cal had wanted to buy a house in the new subdivision half a mile west. Beatrice had insisted on this Tudor with a brick walkway and five-point-two acres of land. A willow graced the south side. A couple of apple trees and some wild roses dotted the slouching wooden fence in the backyard.
Cal had already used his smartphone app to turn on the outside lights and unlock the front door. One of the few upgrades he’d been able to get done in between assignments. “I don’t care if we’re having a raccoon, I’d rather we get inside to do so.”
Hunter sent him a look. “Rocking chair on three?”
Cal nodded, releasing his hold on Beatrice in order to lock arms with Hunter. “Rocking chair on three.”
Which in Shadow Force lingo stood forone…two…
Upsy daisy.
The men’s locked arms formed their own version of a chair, and they swept Beatrice’s legs out from under her, supporting her upper body as they lifted her off the ground.
She let out a startled cry and the midwife’s eyes went round. Ignoring the protests of both women, Cal and Hunter marched Beatrice up to the front door, where Cal managed to twist the knob and kick open the oak door.
The last time he’d carried Beatrice across the threshold had been after their second honeymoon only a few short months ago. Where had the time gone?
She’d fallen in love with the house the moment she’d set eyes on it. All Cal had seen was a money pit. The roof needed replacing, the chimney tuck-pointing, and the only thing remotely cool on the inside were the original wood floors.
But seeing Beatrice fall in love with the hundred-year-old house had bowled him over. She’d talked nonstop about remodeling each room, and to see his wife excited about putting down roots made him happy to sign his name on the mortgage papers.
Who would have guessed? Him with a mortgage, wife, and baby. What a difference a few months could make.
A floral arrangement sat on the wooden foyer table and one of Beatrice’s feet snagged a stem, knocking it over. Hunter, super soldier that he was, caught the vase before it spilled a single drop and righted the arrangement.
“Thank you,” Beatrice said to him, and then she laid her head on Cal’s shoulder. “Can you call Connor and have him bring Maggie home? I’ve missed her.”
Maggie, their dog, was probably living the highlife with Connor McKenzie at the SFI office, where he was dogsitting for them. The Lab had originally been Cal’s until she’d met Beatrice. Now Maggie stayed by B’s side 24/7. He was somewhat surprised his wife hadn’t taken Maggie on her trip to Chicago.
After a long estrangement, Beatrice had shown up at Cal’s boat and asked for his protection against an assassin. During their time on the run, they’d fallen in love all over again and managed to get the assassin to help them instead of killing B. In the end, Cal had stopped the president from dying and B had ended up pregnant.
Now they worked for Emit Petit. Beatrice ran the office, signing on clients and hovering over the men who made up Rock Star Security and, behind the scenes, those who also ran missions for Shadow Force. Cal was in charge of one of the Shadow Force teams that were much like the SEALs, though his time with the SEALs now seemed like a lifetime ago.
Beatrice beat weakly on his arm before he’d even cleared the kitchen. “Put me down, Cal.”
Her protest was as weak as her punch. Stubbornness and bravado could only carry you so far. She was physically in great shape, but everyone had limits.
He leaned over and kissed her temple. She was dead tired from her trip and the contractions. “There’s no shame in accepting help, B. Let us get you to the bedroom.”
“I’m not a frail old lady, and if I’m going to take care of our son and run SFI, I better be able to handle walking thirty feet to our bedroom.”
“You’re the strongest woman I know, honey.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d grown up with Beatrice, knew all the shit her mentally unstable, drug-addicted mother had put her through. He was constantly amazed at how adept Beatrice was. “Allowing Hunter and I to carry you to the bedroom will not lessen your willpower, tenacity, or determination to be Wonder Woman.”
Cal cocked his head to the right to signal Hunter the direction they were headed. Together, they carried Beatrice across the foyer, through the living room, and down the hall. Maria followed behind them, mute, but Cal could feel her displeased glare on his back.
Hunter managed to flip on the lights inside the bedroom door as they crossed the threshold. Cal had been gone for several days and seeing the unmade bed—Beatrice considered making it up a waste of time and energy—and smelling the light, floral perfume she used that permeated the room, made the tightness between his shoulder blades relax slightly.
Home. A good place to be.
As they started for the bed, Beatrice demanded they switch direction. “Take me to the bathroom,” she said. “I need to get out of these clothes.”
