Chapter Eleven

Imet Aisling, Sailor, and Persy at Boston Common the following day.

All three young mothers arrived with their strollers, babies, and two cents to weigh in on my situation.

They were a reminder that soon I was going to have to transport myself from a world of thongs and nightclubs to the wonders of bamboo breast pads, burp cloths, and swaddles.

My friends’ strollers matched their personalities.

Sailor pushed a city jogger. Sporty, efficient, and all black. “A customer favorite,” she boasted to me once when I was in a great mood and pretended to care.

Persephone had the double Bugaboo for both Astor and Quinn, off-white and trimmed, although she strapped Astor to a dog-like leash and let him roam the park like a drunken Chihuahua.

Then there was Aisling, who had the silver cross Balmoral stroller. It looked classy, expensive, prim and proper—just like the woman it belonged to. Ambrose looked right at home inside it.

We were all bundled up in our coats, striding through the tree-lined common, passing by the Freedom Trail and the soldiers’ and sailors’ monuments.

The sky was a curtain of ice, clouds moving across in navy blue like the morning throng of downtown professionals.

“Did you know that in the seventeenth century, a woman named Ann Hibbins was executed in the Boston Common on charges of witchcraft?” Sailor asked as she pushed the stroller with Xander. “They hanged her for all to see.”

“Christ, Sailor.” Aisling did a sign of the cross, side-eyeing our friend. “What a fun-fact to start the day with.”

Persy laughed. A stab of melancholy pierced through me. Devon would have appreciated that jab. But I couldn’t just text him willy-nilly. We weren’t supposed to talk about non-baby related stuff. My rule, which I stood behind. It just sucked.

“Anyway!” Persephone exclaimed. “As much as I’d love to hear about women being hung for witchcraft, Belle has something to tell us.”

“Thanks for the subtle transition, Sis.”

Since I was the only one who didn’t have a stroller to push, I held Rooney, Sailor’s toddler daughter, on one of those leashes while she tried chasing pigeons off the paved walkway. She looked like a tiny drunk man trying to pick a fight. I was here for it.

“It’s still early, but I wanted to let you know that there’s a bun in this oven.” I pointed at my stomach.

The girls stopped pushing their strollers and jumped on me with hugs and squeals of delight. Rooney and Astor, who had no idea what was going on but sensed the excitement, pushed between our legs and hugged me too, squealing, “Auntie Belle! Auntie Belle!”

I gathered everyone into my arms and laughed, a little embarrassed. I was going to tell my parents on the phone later this evening. They weren’t going to be super happy about my having a child out of wedlock, but I knew they’d come to expect nothing better from me. They knew I wasn’t the marrying kind. They had no illusions about me following in my younger sister’s footsteps.

“Did you and Devon basically lock yourselves in the bedroom for an entire month? That was fast!” Sailor reached back for her stroller, mirth still dancing in her green eyes.

“Not sure I want to have this conversation when the average age of this group is about two and a half.” I waved a hand toward the strollers and kids.

“The kids have no idea what we’re talking about,” Aisling said primly. “To be honest, mine is still color-blind, he’s so young.”

“There’s Rooney and Astor,” Persy reminded her with a smile. “Let’s save it for our weekly takeout night.”

“In which Belle won’t be drinking any wine.” Sailor beamed triumphantly. “More for us.”

“She won’t be going clubbing anytime soon either.” Persy seemed particularly happy by that turn of events. “Which means no one can slip anything into her drink.”

Not that it ever happened, but my sister was a worrier.

“Anyway, I hope you know we’re here for you. Whatever you need, just say the word. Although I think Devon wants to play a huge part in the pregnancy.” Persephone tilted her chin downward, inspecting me.

“Devon can screw right off. He knew the score. Wait …” I said as we resumed our walk. “How do you know that?”

“Devon couldn’t help himself. He called Cillian last night to break the good news.” Persy’s face almost splits from her huge grin. “Cillian told me.”

I made a mental note to maim Devon with the pregnancy test for his lack of discretion.

“That’s total bull. Isn’t there some lawyer code or whatever?” I complained, even though it didn’t feel half bad knowing Devon was informing the Western world he was going to be a great dad. Especially after his frigid reaction when I told him I was knocked up.

“He’s not your lawyer, dum dum.” Sailor pretended to knock on my temple. “Although, I’m pretty sure he’ll have to be at some point with the shenanigans you get yourself into.”

“Besides, he probably told Cillian not to tell, and Cillian just couldn’t help himself. My brother would give away national secrets and the state of Texas without blinking to meet his wife’s approval.” Aisling swung her gaze at Persephone with a smile.

Persy’s cheeks colored. She ducked her head. Aisling had a point. Cillian was defenseless against his wife. Hunter and Sam weren’t too good about saying no to their respective wives either.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad it didn’t take a bunch of time. I mean, the real risk is to keep the pregnancy. Getting pregnant was the easy part. But still.”

“Hmm, guys? I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but is it just me or is there a dude with a black coat following us?” Sailor raised an eyebrow.

“Where?” Aisling looked left and right, confused.

“Three o’clock.”

Aisling and Persephone immediately froze, subtly trying to sneak a few glances. I had less finesse than that. I turned my head sharply, narrowing my eyes at a man who was tucked behind a tree a few dozen feet from us. He was tall and broad. He wore a hat and was clad in all black from head to toe, so I couldn’t see what he looked like.

“Is this something you should tell Sam about?” Persy asked Aisling.

Aisling frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t think so. He has no open beefs with anyone right now. Ever since he dismantled the Russians, things have been quiet. Maybe even too quiet for his taste. If he thought I was in any kind of danger, he wouldn’t let me out the door without at least two of his soldiers.”

It was true. Sam would recruit an entire army to keep Aisling safe. If she didn’t have bodyguards, that meant Sam was having a peaceful year.

“What about you?” Sailor spun to Persephone. Even though my sister’s husband was clean as a whistle in his business, there was no denying kidnapping his family was a lucrative idea.

Persy shook her head. “The Fitzpatrick clan works with a security company. All former secret service agents. We always know what level of threat we’re facing for every scenario, including kidnapping. Right now it’s low because Royal Pipeline’s stock is tanking on Wall Street.”

“Poor you,” I purred. “However will you pay your next month’s mortgage?”

All eyes drifted toward me. I looked over my shoulder again. The man was gone now, but I bet he just found another tree to hide behind.

“What?” I huffed. “Who could be going after me?”

There was one person I could think of, actually, but they were very dead.

“Maybe one of the nutcases who writes you letters?” Sailor suggested. “You’re one of the most notorious women in Boston, Belle.”

“No freaking way. Those guys can barely operate a landline, let alone plot a well-executed murder.” But I tugged redheaded Rooney closer to me, just in case. “I bet it’s just a creep who’s going to rub one off after we’re gone.”

“Mommy, what’s to rub one off?” Rooney clucked at Sailor, who shot me an are-you-happy-now look. My expression told her, yes, very.

“Well … I can see him again now, and he is looking at you, Belle.” Persephone’s voice was a sharp blade rolling against my skin.

The small hairs on the back of my neck pricked. My palms became sweaty. Mentally, I sifted through all the issues I had with people throughout the years, but nothing seemed big enough to warrant … this.

Logic dictated that Aisling, with her mafia prince husband, and Persy, who was married to one of the richest (and cruelest) men on planet Earth, were the prime targets. But they were both right—precisely because their husbands knew their situations, they made security arrangements to make it impossible for them to get hurt.

“Is there anything you’re not telling us?” Aisling crooned, using her best peacemaker tone. “You can tell us. You know we’re on your side. Always.”

But I couldn’t.

Because there was nothing to tell.

“Everything’s fine.” I tried to catch another glimpse behind my back.

A trail of a black peacoat disappeared behind a statue.

Oh fuck that.

“Hold this please.” I gave Sailor Rooney’s leash and started after the man. I ran toward the statue, fury burning like acid in my bloodstream. No matter who this man was after, he had a lot to answer for.

I bolted behind the statue to find him leaning against it, scrolling through pictures on his phone. Pictures of my back, I realized, when I caught a glimpse of my red peacoat on his screen.

“Cute number, huh? You should see the front.” I swung my fist backward, about to punch him square in the face. His eyes snapped up. He let out a groan, and took off. My fist slung across the air, hitting nothing.

I began chasing him. Persy was at my feet.

“Belle!” she exclaimed, frantic and breathless. “Come back. You can’t do this!”

Of course I could do this.

It was my duty to do this.

I vowed long ago to never let men hurt women just because they could. Because they were physically stronger.

I picked up my pace while my sister ran behind me. The man was gaining speed. Meanwhile, Persy had decided to show her athletic side for the first time since she was born and managed to catch up with me, tugging me back to the others by my coat collar.

“Leave me alone, Pers!” I roared. “Asshole had the guts to take pictures of me, now I want to know why.” I shook her off, pushing through my bad knee and running faster. Persy was persistent. Where did all this new strength come from?

“You can’t!” She jumped in front of me, serving as a barrier between me and the man, who was now too far away for me to be able to chase him.

This man could have been the same guy who approached me at Madame Mayhem a little over a month ago. Dammit.

Persy grabbed my shoulders, her eyes wild in their sockets. “Listen to me now. I know you’re brave, and I know you’re a ballbuster, but you have to understand, it’s not just you anymore. There’s someone inside you, and you need to think about them. Understand?”

Flashes of my conversation with Doctor Bjorn came back to me.

High-risk.

Miscarriage danger.

We’ll have to monitor you closely.

I nodded grimly. I knew she was right. What the hell was I thinking, taking off like that?

“Fine,” I said surly. “Fine. But I can’t just let this shit slide.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Persephone stressed. “I’ll talk to Cillian. We’ll see what we can do.”

But I wasn’t going to let a man, not even my brother-in-law, play babysitter to me. I was going to handle my own business.

“No, I’ll take care of it.”

“Not by approaching him on your own,” Persy said.

I nodded in agreement but refrained from using my words. God was in the fine print.

Persy gathered me into a hug. “Now, that’s my favorite sister.”

“You mean your only sister,” I groaned, my cheek squashed against her insanely swollen, milk-filled bosom.

She patted my head. “That too.”