Page 23 of Baby Daddy Protector

Except I’d always been able to tell myself it was because of the job.

Now, though, it was because of our unborn child.

SIXTEEN

“Okay, princess?” I asked, glancing over at Es in the back of the limo. We were on our way to the first official doctor’s appointment post-positive pregnancy test. Hard to believe it had been almost ten days already since the night we’d found out about the pregnancy—and about the suspicious fire at that haunted house.

“Yes,” Es said, staring out the window beside her at the overcast, blustery day. “It’s nice to get outside for a change.”

I had to admit I felt the same. For security reasons, we’d both kept a low profile since Halloween. It gave me a lot of time to think. Lots of time to worry, too. Which was stupid when I really thought about it. I was in this to get back to my SEAL team, no more, no less. Now, if someone would just let my heart in on that secret, I’d be all set.

I wasn’t cut out to be a father, not in the real sense, anyway. My job was too time-consuming, too dangerous. And if anyone knew firsthand the pain and trauma a child suffered when his father didn’t come home from work, it was me. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel that hollow grief, the gaping wound in my soul that had never healed from the day I’d been told my parents were dead. No child should ever have to go through that.

Nope. The fact I’d be out of both Es and the baby’s lives after one year was best for everyone.

So why didn’t I feel better about that? Getting back to work—real work—with my team was what I wanted, right?

Es sighed and rubbed her stomach, a slight frown on her pretty face.

I reached into my pocket for the ever-ready packet of saltine crackers I kept handy. “Need something to munch on?”

She took one, giving me a wan smile. At six weeks, the morning sickness had struck hard, except it wasn’t just in the morning. With Es, it seemed to be twenty-four/seven nausea with a hefty side of upchuck. I did my best to stay alert and attentive to the signs, bringing juice or crackers or water or whatever she needed whenever she needed it. As a result, neither of us had gotten a solid eight hours sleep in a while. Honestly, I had felt less on edge in active shooter situations. At least then, I knew what I was dealing with and I could be proactive instead of reactive.

As the mom-to-be nibbled away on her saltine, I found myself filling the silence in the back of the car, something I’d been doing a lot more of lately. For a guy who normally didn’t say much, I was becoming a regular chatterbox.

“Hopefully, you’ll feel better after we see the doctor today,” I said, staring out the window at the snarled traffic ahead. “When I was a kid, I used to hate going to the doctor. Didn’t help we were always traveling to a different part of the world. Hard to find English-speaking docs sometimes, so you took what you got.”

“That must have been fun for you, though,” Es said, her voice quiet and her eyes closed as she leaned her head back against the plush leather seat. “Seeing all those different cultures.”

“Hmm. Sure, yeah. It was fun, until you got sick.” I snorted and shook my head. “I was a pretty healthy kid most of the time, but man. I remember about a month after we arrived in Istanbul, I had strep throat. I was four, maybe, and scared to death of the man my mother took me to. He wore this red fez and a white robe and—”

I tensed and put a protective hand on Es when the limo braked hard as a black SUV cut us off, pulling in front of us. I glanced at Esme, glad to see she was fine, even though she looked a little startled. I was just starting to relax when the black SUV brake-checked us.“What’s going on?” I growled into my headset to the driver.

“Don’t know. Maybe just an asshole,” he responded, dropping back a bit, but a red light put us right behind the SUV again at the next intersection.

“Change lanes,” I ordered, “and take a quick left.” I switched to talking to one of the escort vehicles that stayed near us. “Hiltz and Stebbs, stay with the SUV, give me a status report in five.”

It might be nothing, just a jerk driver, but I wasn’t taking that chance. Not after the fire in the haunted house. The fire inspector’s report showed the cause was oil soaked rags that had been torched. They had been contained in a metal bucket, which had kept the fire from spreading throughout the structure, but the smoke had been intense. If we’d still been there, the smoke would have created the perfect screen to conceal a kidnapping or worse. It was an old trick but an effective one.

“Boss,” Hiltz spoke in my ear. “SUV turned into a parking garage. Do you want us to stay on him?”

Likely nothing then. “No. Park on the street in front of the doctor’s office as planned.”

Next to me, Esme had dozed off—something that had started happening a lot when we were in the car. It wasn’t really a surprise, given how poorly she’d been sleeping at night. In slumber, her face was relaxed, the small lines between her dark brows smooth. She was beautiful, but she looked thinner and more fragile than she had before. Watching over her triggered my already strong protective urges where she was concerned, as well as my need to take control. If anyone was coming after Es, they’d have to get through me first.

A few minutes later, I gently woke her as we pulled up in an alley adjacent to the OB/GYN’s office. I got out first to survey the area and make sure my security team was in place before ushering Es quickly into the rear entrance of the building.

Once inside the waiting room, I did a perimeter check of the otherwise empty space. We’d booked out the doctor’s entire afternoon schedule for Es’s appointment, not wanting to take a chance that Es would be recognized. News of the king’s failing health had been leaked to the press, creating a media circus every time Esme went. We didn’t want the world getting word of her pregnancy, too. Not yet. Fortunately, everything inside checked out—we had the place to ourselves.

In one corner of the room was a small play area for kids. On top of a white, plastic table sat a racetrack with several cars. I remembered wanting that same set up badly when I’d been younger. We’d been in Croatia then, and the supply of American toys had been thin. I remembered my dad searching high and low for the track set and finally coming home late one night with the box under his arm. I had thought my dad was a superhero right about then.

“What are you smiling about?” Es asked, her too-perceptive gaze locked on me.

“See that car racing set on the table there? I had the same one as a kid.” I chuckled. “My dad worked a miracle to get it for me. Still don’t know how he managed it.”

“You must have been a lucky little boy,” she said, smiling.

My happiness deflated. “Sure, if becoming an orphan six months later is lucky.”

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