Ruined Castles (The Elite King's Club 8)

I’m reaching under the bed and pulling out the suitcase when she starts laughing so loud the fucking bed shakes.

I dump the bag onto the mattress, glaring at her. “What? And why are you still lying there? Get your ass up.”

“Bishop… labor can last hours—days even. I’m not in any pain right now. We will sleep and see how I feel in the morning before calling the midwife.”

I’m shaking my head way before she finishes that final word. “No. Fuck that. Madison—baby…” I lower myself back onto the bed. “These babies, they’re my babies. They ain’t gonna tiptoe around your discomfort.”

She leans up on her elbows, a smile glowing on her face. “Bishop, I—” Her face scrunches slightly, her eyes closing, and I watch as her chest inflates and deflates as she takes deep breaths. “Okay…” She slowly releases her breath, her eyes back on mine. “Yeah, okay. Maybe we will go—”

I run around the bed to grab her by the hand and help her out when she collapses, her hand on her lower belly. “Ouch! Fuckkk—” Her teeth dig into her lower lip as she winces through the pain. “Mmmm, no. You’re going to need to call Rebecca. Now.”

“Alright, alright! Fuck. Sit down and don’t move.” I crawl over the bed to grab my phone, tapping on Rebecca’s name and pushing the speaker button.

“Hi, are we all a go?”

“Yeah, fuck. Her water broke less than fifteen minutes ago and she was fine, but she just tried to stand and said it hurt.” There’s shuffling in the background, doors closing.

“Madison, on a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?”

“Um—” She pauses again, doing that little lip bite.

I’d rather she do that during other shit and much less when she’s in so much agony.

“Shit, they’re really close, Rebecca. That was the second one in less than five minutes, and the pain is hovering at a solid seven.”

“Okay. I’m on my way and calling some colleagues to assist. Bishop, prep the room. Sanitize everything and push some pillows below her belly. I’ll call the EMTs to let them know to be on standby if we need.”

Madison is already moving onto the middle of the bed when I snatch my phone from the mattress, hitting it off speaker. “Rebecca, we didn’t agree to a fucking home birth. She is birthing twins.”

“Look, it sounds scarier than what it is. Her body is going to do all the work for us. I’m only two minutes up the road so I’m coming in now. The EMTs—”

“—I have a fucking chopper on my roof, Rebecca. We can fly her ass to the hospital.”

She sighs. “Look—beep me in.”

I hang up on her and dial the security at the front gate. “Let her in and any of her assistants.”

“Sir… is that wise?”

I clench my jaw. “Yes, we’re safe to do this, just have them show you medical ID.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I make my way back to Madison, who has stripped down into a little sports bra and is rocking on all fours over a pile of pillows.

“Baby.” I swipe her hair from her sweaty face. “I’m right here, okay?”

She starts groaning, and I lean forward to kiss her on her head just as the bedroom door opens and Rebecca bursts through with Tate hot behind her.

Tate has been staying with us a lot leading up to the birth because she’s the only one who Madison will allow to care for her needs. I’m thankful for her in this time, because I’m man enough to understand that there are attributes in a best friend for women that we men just cannot provide.

Rebecca leans over Madison, placing her bag on the floor. “How are we, Madison? Ready to welcome these two beautiful babies into the world?”

“Yes,” Madison pants, reaching for my hand. “Please, just to have this pain stop.”

“Is there anything we can give her for that?” I ask no one in particular, pulling the hair tie out of her brown locks and pushing it all up onto the top of her head. I tie the scrunchie up in her bun and gesture to Tate.

“Can you make the calls?”

Tate nods. “I can do that. Do you want them all over here?”

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to stop them all.”

“True.” Tate laughs, before sobering when she looks back to her best friend. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you go birthing my babies without me here.”

I roll my eyes just as there’s another knock on the door.

Rebecca nudges her head to the door while pulling out a plastic tool.

I open the door and stare down at a man in his early thirties, dressed in a sweater and slacks and carrying an identical bag to Rebecca.

He flashes a card in my face before putting his hand out to me. “Afternoon, sir, I’m Roger Camden, here to help assist Rebecca Camden.”