The white stretched on for miles. Michael growled in discontent. It wasn’t the perfect white of Mexican beaches that he had gotten used to, that he needed to survive. No, it was the endless vacancy of the newly harvested fields of Iowa.
The whole situation sucks. Michael fiddled with the radio volume of the crappy rental car he was driving as a devious grin spread across his lips. He’d get the situation fixed soon enough.
Michael and Jenny had rented a little place in Cancún not far from the beach. Living in the resort would have drained the fifty thousand dollars too quickly. It was the perfect dream for a couple of beach bums fueled on drugs and booze. They had slept until noon and then it was alcohol and sex non-stop until the early hours of the next morning. They had even met others from the States and invited their new friends to join their little party. It had truly been the life.
Then the signs started to show. Jenny had been in charge of the money since she had worked at the bank. She had started to look worried. She nagged Michael to party less and spend more time on the beach. They started to fight. They never fought before. What was the point of arguing with someone who you were only interested in having sex with?
Michael had gone to the bar one night. Jenny stayed at the apartment. When he staggered in drunk at four o’clock in the morning, he found one very large thing missing. Jenny.
All that was left of her was a note saying they were broke. She had taken some of the money to fly back to the United States. She wasn’t going home. She’d be a pariah there. She was going somewhere to start over. With a handwritten “LOL,” she wrote that she might just try New York City.
So Michael was left with an empty apartment and one hundred dollars. It took twenty-four hours to drain that amount of cash. He had looked for work. He was hired as a bellhop at the resort. But he wasn’t content with the minimum wage he was paid. As he delivered the guests’ luggage to their rooms, he rummaged for loose cash and jewelry. He pocketed the cash and sold the jewelry to a pawnshop in town.
It wasn’t long before the thefts were reported. Michael took one last hit. With the cash, he bought a plane ticket for Iowa to begin “Plan B.”
He wasn’t a big fan of Plan B. He wanted to go back to Cancún to party, drink, and have a lot of sex with a lot of random women. Plan B would put a kink in that idea. But Plan B was also the only source of unlimited cash he knew. And she loves me despite what I have done.
Michael pulled into the first set of apartments lining Highway 30. He parked in a space, turned off the rental, and stepped out into the late fall chill. He violently shivered. He could never get used to these Iowa autumns, not after the balmy warmth of Mexico.
He strode into the apartment building and walked down the dark hallway, knocking loudly on the last door on the right. After several moments of silence, it opened.
A man, the same age and height as he, stood in the entryway. He gaped, running his hand through his short-cropped, brown hair when he saw Michael. “Michael, dude! You’re back!”
“Yeah, Joe. But not for long. Just need to tie up some loose ends.”
Joe invited him into the apartment with a slap on the back. Michael stepped inside, finding Joe’s roommate, Matt, lounging on the couch. Matt pushed his bushy red hair from his eyes while he stared at the television.
“Hey, Matt! Guess what the cat drug in!” Joe announced. Matt looked up and waved.
Michael glanced around the room. It was trashed with pizza boxes piled in the corner, some with lifted lids revealing half-eaten pieces that had obviously been there for weeks. Dirty clothes were scattered all over the floor. Everywhere he looked, he saw an empty beer bottle. Yet almost every weekend, he knew there were at least two naked women gracing the place, dump or no dump.
He turned to Joe. Matt, with his glazed, bloodshot eyes focused on the television, wasn’t going to be much use. “So, Joe. Have you seen Abbey recently?”
“Yeah. She moved back to Mount Vernon a few months ago.”
Michael chuckled. “I knew she would.”
“Why do you care?”
The glimmer in Michael’s green eyes was pure evil. “I ran out of money in Mexico. I’m sure as hell not staying here in Iowa. Abbey will take me back. It doesn’t matter what I did. She figures no other guy will ever want her. I will take her back to Mexico with me. True, she’ll put a cramp in my style. But I figure with a little manipulation, I’ll be back to non-stop drinking and sex in no time.”
Joe looked at Michael with a dumbfounded expression. “Dude, I don’t think Abbey will go with you to Mexico.”
Michael shook his head. “You don’t know Abbey. She’ll do anything I ask. She thinks I love her.”
“That’s not it, Michael. She’s pregnant.”
Michael’s eyes flew wide in amazement. “Pregnant?” He felt his blood begin to boil. Abbey was his. She was his only way back to Cancún. He took a deep breath. “So? I guess she can raise the kid in Mexico. I can work with it.”
“I suppose you could,” Joe replied. “I’m guessing her husband won’t be too keen on that idea, though.”
“Husband?” Michael shouted.
“Yeah, she came back from New York with some guy. He opened an art gallery downtown.”
Michael fumed, the hate rolling off him in waves. That son of a bitch. Did he steal Abbey away, marry her, sleep with her…
“This guy doesn’t by chance have an accent, does he?” Michael asked quietly, his voice resonating with danger.
“Yeah,” Matt piped up. “British, I think. Maybe not quite British.”
“Irish?” Michael supplied coldly.
“Yeah. Irish.”
Michael shook in rage as he felt the warm, silky beaches of Cancún fade away from his grasp. That son of a bitch. Without a word, he stormed from the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
»»•««
Closing time for the gallery came quicker than Abbey expected. The stars peeked out one by one against a black sky. She looked up and sighed contentedly at the beautiful scene above her as her breath puffed out in white, frozen clouds. Then she dropped her gaze to the far more beautiful scene before her—her sinfully sexy husband locking up the store.
Abbey watched as Sloan twisted the key in the gallery door. The dim lights from inside cast a caramel glow on the sidewalk outside. He slipped his keys into his jeans pocket and then took her tiny hand in his. She snuggled close to him for a moment before they started walking toward home.
Main street Mount Vernon was lit up for a Saturday night on the town. Families filtered in and out of the diner for supper. College students from Cornell filled the sidewalks heading for either the movie theater or the coffee shop. Laughter and the sound of the Hawkeye game on the big screen television could be heard through the propped open door of the tavern. Despite the chill of the upcoming winter, people seemed to be out of the warmth of their homes for a little fun.
Sloan and Abbey laughed and whispered as they journeyed the short distance home. At the first street corner, they waited for a car to pass. Sloan wrapped his powerful arms around his wife, his hands palming Abbey’s rounded stomach. He trailed a soft line of kisses along her neck. She let go a shudder at his touch.
At the next street corner, Sloan’s hands and lips were far more possessive. He was no longer the proud father. He was the lover who had embedded the baby in her womb. She clung to him. Why can’t we live closer to the gallery?
At the third street corner, Abbey found herself pressed flush against the street lamp. Sloan’s hands slid down her butt to her inner thighs. She felt his arms tense to lift.
“Sloan, what are you doing?” Abbey asked breathlessly.
Sloan’s eyes locked with hers. “I told you I wouldn’t be stopping tonight, didn’t I?”
Abbey gasped softly as Sloan’s lips pried hers apart, his tongue diving deep to tangle with hers. She held tightly to his black wool trench coat as she tore free from the kiss. “Sloan, not here.”
A shiver ran through her when she heard the sound of clattering metal as his belt buckle fell free. She had to stop this. She was a whisper away from letting him strip her naked and take her right there against the light pole.
“Why not here?” he demanded.
“We’re outside!”
He cocked his head to the side, a playful pout on his sweet, sexy lips. “How sad. You’ve lost your adventure.”
“I haven’t lost anything. Winter’s about to start. I don’t want to freeze to this pole.”
Sloan pinned his body to Abbey’s, pressing her against the light pole with his sculpted, muscular frame. She felt him hard and ready against her swollen belly. “Oh, luv. I will warm your skin. You won’t freeze.”
“We can see our breath…”
Abbey’s words trailed off as Sloan’s hands caressed her breasts while his lips roamed the curve of her neck. She whimpered in need as she clung to his shoulders, her fingers buried in his wavy, ebony hair. She felt her resolve slip away. She needed skin on skin. She needed Sloan inside her.
“Home,” she moaned, forcing one more stand from her lips. “One block, please.”
Sloan gazed down at her, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. It promised a night of fiery passion that set loose butterflies in her stomach. He took her hand in his as they quickly crossed the street and trotted for home.
Sloan tossed off his coat as he and Abbey stepped inside the house. She listened to him bolt the lock on the door as she discarded her coat on the sofa. She hopped up the steps and then turned around, meeting her husband’s hungry stare. She scrunched her finger to send him a come-hither message. He needed no encouragement.
With a shriek of giggles, Abbey fled up the stairs. Sloan was quick on her heels, leaping the steps two at a time. He took her captive in their bedroom, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She lost her breath as he kissed her ferociously, his lips demanding complete surrender.
“You are mine,” her growled.
“Always,” she whispered as she sank into his kiss again. His tongue tangled with hers, leaving the taste of expensive whiskey behind. She moaned. It drove her crazy. She broke away to tug her shirt over her head and drop it to the floor. She trailed her fingers up her back to make quick work of her bra.
Sloan scraped his bottom lip with his teeth as he caressed her naked breasts in his palms. “Eager, luv?”
“You have no idea.”
“Then lose the pants. And your panties also.”
Abbey smiled as she hooked her fingers around the waistband of her jeans and underwear. She pulled them down together and then kicked them away. Backing toward the bed, she laid across it, her eyes never leaving his.
He slowly approached her as he unlatched his watch. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the chair. He cocked a grin at her.
“You’re torturing me,” Abbey moaned.
“I know. That’s my plan. You’re lying there anticipating me. I’ll let you enjoy the sweet burn.” Sloan popped the button of his fly open.
Abbey rose to her knees on the mattress and grabbed the waist of his jeans. She undid his zipper and then pulled his pants and briefs down to his thighs. Taking him in her hand, she pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock.
“Lass,” he warned as he drew in a sharp breath. She looked up at him as she ran her tongue along the length of him before wrapping her lips around him.
He breathed a few curse words as he weaved his fingers through her hair. Abbey pulled free from him. “Lose the jeans.”
Sloan shoved them to the floor and climbed into bed beside her. He cupped her breast in his hand, leading it to his lips. He gently sucked. The sensation set her on fire. She squirmed beneath him as he feasted on her other breast.
He laid back against the pillows and pulled her to him. Grasping her thighs, he lifted her to straddle his hips. She lowered herself on his cock until he was buried deep inside her.
He dug his fingers deep into her hips as she rocked gently. His lips roamed across her bare breasts, his teeth latching onto her nipple and drawing it into his mouth. The sheet that had covered them lay pooled on the floor with their discarded clothes.
Her eyes fluttered shut as soft, urgent mews whimpered from her lips. Her rocking grew faster, and her breathing grew harsh. She clenched her fingers in Sloan’s hair as she cried out, her body trembling. She gazed at him with sleepy, smoky eyes.
“Wrap your arms around my shoulders, Abigail,” Sloan’s deep, rich brogue ordered. He caressed her thighs as he slid her legs past his hips. “Hold onto me tight.”
In one fluid motion, he lifted her and rolled her to her back, never leaving her body as he did so. He drove deeper into her as he dug his knees into the mattress. She arched her back, breathlessly begging for more. She clung to him as she cried out again, quaking violently. Her cries turned to whimpers as Sloan stiffened, his groans buried in the curve of her neck.
Sloan brushed a damp lock of brown hair from Abbey’s forehead and then softly kissed her. She smiled at him. As he hovered over her, he kicked a pillow at the head of the bed until he could reach it. He gently tucked it beneath her head.
“I’m getting fat,” she teased.
“You’re not fat,” Sloan chided. He carefully pulled free and then lay beside her, propping his head on his hand. “You’re pregnant.”
“Still…”
He tilted her face to his to look in her eyes. “Abigail, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. You are more so now. When I was young and establishing my place in the Irish Republican Army, I wanted a family like the one my parents had. I wanted a wife and children. After what happened with London, I had to let that dream go. I would put them forever in danger. I was repeatedly reminded of that all the while I was growing up. I forced myself to come to terms with it.
“Now, here I lay with my beautiful wife who is carrying my child. My life couldn’t be more perfect.”
Abbey beamed happily. Sloan continued, “Which reminds me, due to our less than conventional wedding, we never discussed some important items such as how many children we wanted.”
“How many do you want?” she queried mischievously.
He grazed her naked stomach with his fingertips. “We have a five bedroom house. Minus our room, that leaves four. If we were to purchase bunk beds, that would be eight.”
Abbey’s eyes flew open wide. “You want eight children?”
“You don’t? I thought we would have a large family.”
Abbey gazed into Sloan’s eyes. She sighed softly as a smile spread across her face. “Yes, but you don’t have carry them.”
“But I can assure you that conceiving them will be mind-blowing.”
Abbey trailed her fingers down his chest across his stomach until she wrapped her fingers around his cock. “Maybe we should get back to practicing baby making.”
Sloan pressed a deep, devouring, triumphant kiss against Abbey’s lips. She curved her body into Sloan’s and then rose to her knees to settle herself between his legs. She left a hot trail of kisses around his belly button before descending between his thighs.
»»•««
Michael stood in the shadow of the barren oak tree as he watched the couple on the corner. That junkie Joe knew what he was talking about. There was Abbey, his ticket back to the sunny beaches and margaritas. In the lamplight there was no doubt she was pregnant.
Hovering over her was the Irishman, the one she was paired up with by the publisher. Michael rolled his hands into fists. The son of a bitch was in it from the beginning. From the start he wanted Abbey. And by what was going on between them, he got her.
Sloan lifted Abbey up and pinned her against the lamp post. He devoured her as his hands slowly undressed her. She squirmed in protest and held him closer, begging for more. Finally he relented and set her down. By the way they raced after each other laughing, he could tell they weren’t finished with each other. They were running for warmer spaces. He slowly followed them, watching as they scrambled up the porch steps and into the house.
It took nothing to jimmy the window. Just a little elbow grease and a crow bar and the old pane slid open silently. Michael leaned over the rail of the wraparound porch to drop the metal tool into the bushes and then stepped through the opening. He waited for a second for the alarm to announce his arrival. Nothing happened. The control for the system blinked beside the door waiting to be programmed. Someone was in a hurry.
He glanced around the living room. It was deceptive when looking at the exterior of the house. The house was decades old, yet the interior was exceptionally modern. Fresh burgundy paint blended perfectly with the chocolate brown sofas and armchairs. A richly stained oak coffee table and matching end tables were covered with books, magazines, and photographs displayed in expensive silver frames.
Michael picked up the photo nearest to him and studied it. There they were, Sloan and Abbey, laughing with their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they sat on a perfect white beach. Even though they were looking at the camera and not each other, it was obvious they were deeply in love.
Michael clenched the frame in his grip and raised it over his head. He forgot just where he was along with the fact that the sound of shattering glass would bring unwanted attention. The hate, the fury, blinded him. He stopped as noises from upstairs caught his attention. He tossed the frame on the sofa.
Like a siren’s song, the sounds led Michael to the bottom of the staircase. He stood silently as he listened. There were moans followed by a sharp cry of ecstasy. Then another. It was followed by the rumbling of a male brogue cursing as he released.
Michael felt molten hate flow through his veins at the Irishman’s voice. His dream come true is threatening mine. That’s going to stop. Now. Softly he turned back toward the window and climbed out. He had to get things arranged as soon as possible. If he wasn’t going to leave Mount Vernon to go back to Mexico, Sloan O’Riley wouldn’t leave the small town alive.
»»•««
The grocery store was oddly empty for a Saturday afternoon. Abbey wandered aimlessly down the aisle as she pushed the shopping cart. She couldn’t concentrate on the groceries she needed.
She couldn’t push past the picture frame on the sofa. After finding out that Violet, Dani, and Sami had broken into their house, she was a little paranoid. She had smiled for a moment as the memory of the day flooded her mind. It had been the day before they left St. Thomas. Gordon, Bartholomew, and Robert had met them for a day at the beach.
Gordon had taken the photo. Abbey had giggled as Sloan pulled her on his lap and wrapped his big, powerful arms around her. She had actually thought she heard a sigh come from Gordon as he first reviewed the picture in the camera’s view screen and then showed it to them. They were a couple perfectly in love.
She glanced around the store shelves as her smile faded. It still didn’t explain the picture frame. She didn’t put it there. Sloan didn’t put it there. Did it get up and walk there?
Sloan called the security company to review the camera footage just before they left for the store. It would be at least an hour before they called back. A trip to Iowa City to see Bartholomew and Maggie sounds fun. And safe.
Abbey startled as she felt the sensation of powerful fingers brush against her hip. She looked up into the eyes of her husband. She loved their tender glow.
“What do you think of hamburgers on the grill for dinner?” he asked.
“I think it’s the middle of November.”
“So?”
Abbey suppressed a giggle. Sloan was the only man she knew who would stand outside and grill in the beginning of winter. “Burgers sound fabulous.”
“I’ll go get hamburger, then. Do you need anything from the meat counter?”
“A beef roast for dinner tomorrow night. I invited Mom and Gordon for dinner. Those two have been spending quite a bit of time together.”
“Just spending time? Have you been missing the kissing? They’re doing more than just enjoying each other’s company.”
“Sweetheart, she’s my mom. I don’t want to think about that.”
“I’ve spent most of my life with Gordon. I’ve never seen him happier. So whatever they’re doing, I hope they keep it up.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll get one.” He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips and then turned in the direction of the meat counter. Abbey sighed dreamily as she watched him go. After all this time, I still can’t believe that incredible man is my husband.
She turned the cart as she slowly crept up the aisle looking for maple syrup. She glanced to her other side at the shelves lined with an endless assortment of cookies. She groaned. They all looked so delicious. She didn’t need them. Really, would it hurt to get a package or two?
She grasped the handle of the cart to retreat from the temptation. Suddenly, she stopped and glanced up as she sensed the obstacle blocking her way.
“Hey, Abbey.”
Abbey felt her blood turn to ice at the sound of Michael’s voice. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Looking for you,” he answered coldly.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“You don’t? Last I knew, you were my fiancée. Explain that to me.” He pointed accusingly at her pregnant belly.
“You sort of forfeited the fiancé title when you and Jenny ran off with my money.”
Abbey noticed Michael bristle as he folded his arms over his chest. A moment later, she felt a strong arm wrap around her. She laced her fingers in his. Sloan tossed the meat packages he held in his hand into the cart. “Leave the groceries,” he commanded.
She held Sloan’s hand as he led her down the aisle, using his body as a human shield between Michael and her. Abbey watched Sloan glare Michael down as he nudged her protectively through the tight corridor between his rock hard body and the end cap of canned goods. Then he shepherded Abbey through the store’s automatic doors into the parking lot.
Abbey pulled free from him to open the passenger door. Sloan stormed to the driver’s side and flung the door open. Through the open doors, she watched Michael race to his car and open the trunk. His glare was molten hate as he pulled out a pistol.
“Abigail, get in the truck,” Sloan demanded.
Abbey stared at him with wide eyes. Her body was frozen in place. “Sloan, run.”
“What do you mean run? What the bloody hell?” He slammed the driver’s door shut and then strode around the tail of the truck. “Abigail…”
The blast of the gun echoed through the parking lot. Sloan’s body slammed into the tailgate from the force. He slumped to the ground.
A scream erupted from Abbey’s throat as she sprinted to her husband’s side. Sloan stared at her with dazed eyes. A crimson stain bloomed against the chest of his thin, gray T-shirt. The tailgate of the truck and the asphalt of the parking lot were spattered with drops of the same red. She touched his face as she pressed her other hand against the gunshot wound. “Sloan.”
A hand snaked around her bicep and ripped her violently to her feet. Michael tossed her against the trunk of his rental car, his other hand still gripping the pistol. She could hear a weak growl come from the pavement.
She roared as she launched herself at Michael, pounding her small fists against his chest. “You son of a bitch!”
Michael restrained her wrists in his large hand and slammed her against the truck. He pinned her with his body.
“You’re mine, Abbey,” Michael warned. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.” He pointed the gun at Sloan. “And there’s your proof. Do you understand me?”
Abbey fought against his grip. “Let me go, you asshole.” She wrenched a hand free and brought it across his cheek as hard as she could. A red welt formed in the shape of her fingers. Michael dropped the gun and rolled his hand in a fist.
“That’s the last mistake you’ll ever make, bitch.”
The piercing wail of sirens belonging to the approaching emergency vehicles rang in her ears. Michael slowly let her go and backed away from her. He glanced toward the highway. With one final cold glare at Abbey, he spun on his toe and sprinted for his escape between the neighboring houses.
Abbey crouched beside Sloan, caressing his face. His skin was cold and clammy. He lifted his eyes weakly to her. “A…Abigail,” he rasped.
“Shhh.” Abbey pressed her fingers against Sloan’s mouth to silence him.
“Luv…” His eyes fluttered shut.
Abbey never noticed the growing commotion around her until the paramedics nudged her aside to tend to Sloan. She barely noticed the neighbors bundled in their winter coats chattering to the fleet of police officers and sheriff’s deputies that arrived, pointing out the direction in which Michael had fled. She hardly saw the flashing lights of the ambulances, fire trucks, and squad cars.
She couldn’t breathe as she watched the ambulance doors fly open. For a split second Bartholomew just stared at Sloan’s limp body in disbelief. Then he flew into action, taking command of those around him. She watched him rip open Sloan’s shirt and begin CPR. His life was literally in Bartholomew’s hands.
There was a sudden painful tightening in her abdomen. She looked to the parking lot beneath her shoes. New red droplets began to form. They weren’t Sloan’s blood. They were hers.
Tears trickled down Abbey’s cheeks, freezing in the winter chill. She bit her lower lip. Her eyes met Bartholomew’s for a quick second. She couldn’t take his attention away, even if she was sure she was in premature labor.
Another wave of discomfort shuddered through Abbey. She leaned against the truck’s tailgate, grasping the bumper in her hands. Then she felt a hand brush her arm.
“Abbey?”
She looked up to find a firefighter beside her, staring at her with concern. Even though she couldn’t see his face clearly with the large helmet he wore, she knew the voice was Adam’s.
“Abbey, are you all right?” he pressed.
She gasped, struggling to suppress the ache as she watched Bartholomew and the other paramedics load her husband strapped to a stretcher into the ambulance. The vehicle squealed from the parking lot with its sirens blazing before the rear door was even closed.
“I…I think I’m in labor, Adam,” Abbey murmured.
“You need to get to the hospital,” he advised.
“Abbey!”
Abbey glanced up at the sound of her name. Mary ran across the parking lot, stepping carefully so she wouldn’t disturb those working the crime scene. She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter.
“Mom,” Abbey sobbed. “Michael…shot Sloan. He’s…dying. Mom, I’m…having contractions.”
Mary grasped Abbey’s face in her hands, lifting it to look into Abbey’s eyes. “You need to get to that hospital. Now. Take care of that baby. Let the doctors take care of your husband.”
Abbey nodded and shuffled as fast as her body would allow toward the police car arranged to take her to the hospital, leaning on Adam’s arm as she stumbled. Abbey glanced back one last time as the car pulled out of the grocery store parking lot and raced after the speeding ambulance.