Baby Blessed Page 3

  “Apparently Zane and the others have been able to hold them off, for now at least, but there’re a thousand unknowns in this. Everything’s quiet, but I don’t expect that to last.”

  She nodded, although he couldn’t see her. “What are you doing here?” The question had burned in her mind from the moment he’d stormed into the compound.

  “Someone had to try to get you out of here. Ian’s worried sick. If you want to risk your life, fine, but you might’ve waited until your father was too senile to know or care. He’d never recover if anything happened to you.”

  The words were thrown at her, sharp and cutting in their intensity.

  “I certainly had no idea anything like this was going to happen,” she snapped back defensively.

  “You might have opted to volunteer in someplace other than the East African Republic,” he said. “Why couldn’t you be content with dispensing medication to school kids? Oh, no, that would’ve been too easy. What’d you do, look for the hottest trouble spot on the world map and aim for it?”

  He was stiff and distant. It hurt her to realize that, within five minutes of seeing each other after three years apart, they were arguing.

  Molly knew that at some point in the future she’d need to talk to Jordan; she just hadn’t suspected it would be here, surrounded by rebel troops.

  “I’m sorry you’re involved in this,” she said, and despite her best efforts her voice was hoarse with emotion.

  “It isn’t your fault I’m here. I agreed to come.” The anger had disappeared from his voice, as well, and she sensed regret at his earlier outburst.

  “H-how have you been?” she asked. Sitting on the hard dirt floor of a run-down shack, exchanging pleasantries, seemed…odd. Especially when they were in danger of being attacked by rebel soldiers any minute. But Molly sincerely wanted to know how his life had been these past few years.

  “Busy.”

  “Are you still working twelve-hour days?”

  “Yeah.”

  Molly figured as much. Jordan had never allowed himself to grieve openly for Jeffrey. He’d thrown himself into his work, effectively closing himself off from her and from life. Not that she’d handled things any better. After Jeffrey’s death, she’d been consumed with guilt and was so emotionally needy a thousand Jordans couldn’t have filled the void her son’s death had left.

  As the weeks and months after the funeral wore on, Molly had become more lethargic, while Jordan took the business world by storm. Within eight months he was Chicago’s golden boy, involved in three major construction projects. Meanwhile, Molly had trouble finding the energy to get out of bed in the morning.

  A gunshot echoed like cannon fire and Molly jerked instinctively.

  “Relax,” Jordan said. “Everything’s under control.”

  He couldn’t know that, but she appreciated the reassurance. “I feel like such an idiot,” she admitted, pressing her forehead to her knee.

  Jordan placed his arm around her shoulders and brought her closer to his side. She let herself experience the comfort, wondering how two people who had desperately loved each other had grown so far apart. Molly didn’t ever expect to love anyone as much as she’d loved her husband and her son. It seemed vitally important that Jordan know this. She couldn’t leave the situation as it was, not when she’d been given the opportunity to make things right. The words felt like a huge lump in her throat. “If…if the worst does happen, I want you to know I’ll always love you, Jordan.”

  He went very still, as if he wasn’t sure how to deal with her confession. “I’ve tried not to love you,” he said grudgingly. “Somehow I never quite succeeded.”

  They heard another gunshot, and she burrowed deeper into the shelter of his arms. As she trembled, Jordan held her tightly against him.

  Burying her face in the hollow of his neck, she breathed in his warm, familiar scent. Jordan said nothing, but continued to hold her as he gently caressed her back.

  It had been so long since she’d been in her husband’s arms, so long since she’d felt loved and protected. She might never have the chance again. This time together was like a gift. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

  “Molly, don’t cry. It’ll be okay, I promise you.”

  “You’ve always loved playing the role of hero,” she murmured.

  That comment was unintentionally sardonic, and she regretted it. She wanted to thank him for being here with her, but couldn’t find the words to adequately express her gratitude.

  Kissing his neck seemed the natural thing to do. She slid the tip of her tongue over his skin, reveling in his salty taste. She felt him tense, but he didn’t stop her, nor did he encourage her.

  Her palm was pressed against his heart. His pulse beat strongly and evenly, the tempo increasing when she kissed the hollow of his throat.

  “Molly,” he warned, his hands gripping her upper arms as if to push her away. He’d done that often enough after Jeffrey’s death, as if his desire for her had died with his son. Perhaps not physically, but emotionally.

  “I’m sorry…” she whispered, but before she could say any more, his mouth was on hers, hot and compelling. His kiss was so fierce that her breath jammed in her throat and her nails dug into his shoulders.

  Molly knew it was risky to get involved in this now, but that didn’t keep her from responding, didn’t keep her from moaning in abject surrender. She returned his kisses with a wildness that had been carefully hidden and denied for three long years.

  “Molly…”

  “Love me,” she pleaded softly. “One last time… I need you so much.”

  “This is crazy.” Jordan sighed, but he didn’t reveal any signs of putting an end to it.

  “The world is crazy,” she reminded him and began to undress.

  He did the same, his movements hurried. She was well acquainted with his body, and he with hers, and they used that knowledge to drive each other to a fever pitch of need and desire.

  Molly gasped with pleasure. Her head fell forward, her hair spilling wildly over her face.

  It had been so long, so very long, since they’d made love. She gave a sob of welcome and regret as Jordan set the cadence for their lovemaking.

  Danger surrounded them, the threat of death very real, but there wasn’t room in her mind for anything more than the wonder of their love, and the need they were satisfying.

  She cried out and Jordan clamped his mouth over hers, swallowing her cries of exultation and joy. Pleasure burst gloriously inside her even as the tears rained unheeded down her face.

  They didn’t speak. There was no need; words would have been superfluous. Gently he kissed her, and then again, not with passion but in thanks. Molly returned his kisses with the same heartfelt gratitude.

  Jordan helped her dress and held her close for several moments afterward. When he released her, she felt his reluctance. “I have to go,” he told her.

  “Where?” she cried, not wanting him to leave her.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, kissing her. “Trust me, Molly, I don’t want to leave you, but I’ve already stayed longer than I should have.”

  “I understand.” She tried to hide, without much success, the panic she felt.

  Once she was alone, Molly shut her eyes and prayed God would protect her husband. She’d lost track of time and didn’t know if it was afternoon or evening. The light from beneath the door seemed dimmer, but that could be her imagination.

  Jordan came back several hours later with blankets and food. Although she hadn’t eaten all day, Molly wasn’t hungry. Only because he insisted did she manage to down one of the MREs, meals ready to eat, he’d brought with him. Jordan ate ravenously, while she picked at her food.

  “What’s going on around the compound?” she asked, finishing a piece of dried fruit.

  “It’s secure for now.”

  “What about Dr. Morton?”

  “He’s safe and asking about you.” He spread the blanke
t on the dirt floor. “Try and get some sleep,” he advised. “Here.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and brought her close to his side, but something was different. His hold wasn’t as tight or as personal as it had been earlier.

  “Jordan,” she asked, nestling close. “Are you sorry about what happened before? Neither of us planned on making love and, well, I thought it might be bothering you.”

  “No, I’m not sorry.” His answer sounded oddly defensive. “But I should be.”

  “Why? We’re married!”

  He didn’t answer her right away. “It’s been three years. A lot can happen in that much time.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not the same person anymore.”

  “Neither am I.”

  After the hellish fighting of the day, the night seemed relatively peaceful. For the first time since she and Jordan had made love, she felt safe. Protected.

  He bent toward her and kissed her once, then again and again, each kiss gaining in length and intensity. He slid his mouth from her lips across her cheek to her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking gently. Molly gasped as the sensation rippled down her spine.

  Jordan chuckled softly. “I wondered if that had changed.”

  “Two can play that game.” She climbed onto his lap and leaned her head against his shoulder. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she spread a series of soft kisses along the underside of his jaw, using her tongue to tease and entice him.

  He kissed her then as if he were starving for her, and she met his hunger with her own. Soon their passion became a raging fire that threatened to consume them both. They’d found satisfaction in each other only hours earlier and yet it wasn’t enough.

  Their desire was urgent and frantic, and they reached completion with a driving ecstasy she’d never experienced before.

  Molly didn’t know how much time elapsed before her breathing returned to normal.

  “I can’t believe this,” Jordan said between soft kisses.

  “Who would’ve thought we’d have the most incredible sex of our lives in a supply hut in Africa?” she whispered. If soldiers burst in and gunned her down right then and there, Molly decided she’d die a happy woman. She doubted that either of them could have mustered the strength to put up much of a fight.

  And yet… The imminent possibility of death had made her intensely aware of one thing. She wanted to survive.

  “You know what?” she murmured. “I just realized I’d like to come out of this mess alive.”

  “So would I,” Jordan said adamantly.

  Before tonight, that hadn’t been entirely true for Molly. She didn’t actively think about death, but she hadn’t really cared, either. One way or the other, it hadn’t seemed to matter. It did now, and she had Jordan to thank for that.

  “Can you sleep for a while?” he asked, his hands stroking her back.

  She nodded. “What about you?”

  “Yeah, for an hour or two. I’ve got the second watch. My feeling is we’ll know more about what’s going to happen in the morning.”

  Nestled against him, warm and snug, Molly felt herself drifting off.

  Sometime later, she felt Jordan leave. He kissed her before slipping out of the storehouse. She didn’t remember anything else until he returned. He crawled beneath the single blanket and lay down beside her, gathering her into his arms. Molly felt his sigh as he relaxed and she smiled to herself. It was almost as if the past three years hadn’t happened. It was almost as if they were young and in love all over again. Almost as if Jeffrey hadn’t died…

  Molly woke to the unmistakable sound of gunfire. It was close. Much closer than before.

  Jordan bolted upright and grabbed his weapon. “Stay here,” he ordered and was gone before she could protest.

  Molly barely had time to collect her wits when the door to the shed was thrown open. Jordan stood framed in the light. “Come on,” he shouted, holding out his hand to her. “Zane’s coming and this time we’re going with the chopper.”

  Jordan’s friend was coming back! She could hear the chopper more distinctly when she moved outside the supply hut. She was greeted with a whirlwind of dust and grit. Trying to protect her eyes, she hunched forward and, with Jordan’s arm around her waist, ran toward the deafening sound.

  Dr. Morton climbed into the helicopter after her, looking shaken and exhausted. He gave her a weak smile and patted her hand as he moved to the rear of the aircraft. Molly waited for Jordan, but he didn’t board with the soldiers.

  “Where’s my husband?” she demanded.

  “He’s coming,” Dr. Morton said. “Don’t worry, Jordan can take care of himself.” He guided her firmly out of harm’s way.

  “Jordan,” Molly shouted, near frantic. The chopper was filling up with people and she couldn’t find her husband. Pushing her way past the others, Molly was sobbing when she saw him. He was walking backward toward the chopper, his gun raised and firing at what she could only guess.

  The chopper started to lift.

  “Jordan,” she screamed, although he couldn’t possibly hear her. “Hurry!”

  Despite everything, her voice—or the emotion she felt—must have reached him because he turned abruptly and ran like she’d never seen him run before, sprinting toward the helicopter. The minute his back was turned three rebels appeared from around the corner of the hospital, shooting at him. Two men fired machine guns from the door of the chopper while Zane helped lift Jordan and drag him aboard. He collapsed once he was inside, pale and bleeding heavily from his shoulder. He clutched at the wound and blood oozed between his fingers.

  Molly fell to her knees at his side, weeping. “You’ve been hit.”

  He smiled weakly up at her, then his eyelids fluttered closed. He’d passed out.

  Three

  Jordan felt as if his shoulder was on fire. The pain pulled him out of the comfort of the void.

  He opened his eyes to find Molly and her physician friend working on him. Bright red blotches of blood covered the front of her blouse and he guessed it was his. She seemed to sense that he was awake and paused to look into his face.

  “You’re going to be fine,” she assured him when she saw that he’d regained consciousness. But Jordan wasn’t so out of it that he didn’t recognize the cold fear in her eyes.

  “Liar,” he said. That one word took every ounce of strength he possessed. Even then his voice was little more than a husky whisper.

  Molly held his hand between her own, her eyes bright with tears. “Rest if you can. Zane said we’ll be in the capital soon. There’s an excellent hospital there.”

  “The capital,” he repeated weakly.

  “Don’t worry, the government’s safe. We got a message.”

  “Good.” He attempted a smile.

  “I won’t let anything more happen to you, Jordan. Do you hear me? It’s over now.”

  He closed his eyes and tried to nod. But the pain in his shoulder increased and he gritted his teeth with the agony. Then, thankfully, everything started to go black. Jordan sighed in relief as he sank into the bottomless void.

  When he awoke again, the first things he saw were an IV bottle and stark white walls. The antiseptic scent told him he was in a hospital.

  He blinked and rolled his head to one side. Molly was asleep in the chair next to his hospital bed. How she could rest in a molded plastic chair was beyond him. She’d curled up tightly, her feet tucked beneath her. Her head rested against one shoulder and a strand of beautiful golden hair fell across her cheek.

  Molly was a natural with children, Jordan remembered as he watched her. Once she forgave herself for what had happened to Jeffrey, there was a chance she’d marry again and have the family she’d always wanted.

  A weight settled on his chest. He’d done his stint with this fatherhood business and wasn’t willing to take the risk a second time.

  Lesley had agreed that there’d be no children. He was convinced they’d find their happiness to
gether.

  Molly was a different kind of woman. She loved children, had loved being a mother. Jordan recalled that when they’d first brought Jeffrey home from the hospital, he’d been afraid to hold their son for fear of hurting him.

  By contrast Molly had acted as if she’d been around infants all her life. She’d laughed off his concerns and taught him what he needed to know, insisting he spend part of each day holding and talking to their son. Soon he was as comfortable as she was, and the nightly sessions with Jeffrey had been the highlight of his day. Jeffrey had been a happy baby with an emerging personality.

  Then he was gone.

  He’d been ripped from their lives, leaving behind a burden of grief and anger that had crippled them both.

  Jordan forced himself to look away from Molly. He closed his eyes and with some difficulty brought Lesley’s face to mind. Sweet, kind Lesley. A fuzzy image drifted into his consciousness, followed by a deepening sense of guilt.

  He’d made love to Molly, not once but twice. One lapse in good judgment he could explain away, but two? Not that he was obliged to explain anything to Lesley. She wasn’t the type to ask, and he certainly wasn’t going to volunteer any confessions.

  “Jordan?” His name came to him softly, tentatively, as if Molly were afraid to wake him.

  He turned his head toward her. “Hi,” he said, and realized his mouth felt as if someone had stuffed it full of cotton balls.

  “How are you feeling?” She stood by his side and stroked his forehead.

  “Awful.”

  “Are you thirsty?”

  He nodded, surprised by how well she anticipated his needs.

  “Here.” She poured a glass of water, which she brought him with a straw. She held it to his mouth and he drank, letting the cold water quench his thirst.

  “All right,” he said, relaxing against the pillows. “Let’s talk about the bullet. How much damage did it do?”