Protecting His Pregnant Lover (Southern Soldiers of Fortune 1)

“Fuck!” He was on his feet and had her in his arms the second her knees buckled, pulling her close into the safety of his chest. Even seven months pregnant, she seemed to weigh less than nothing to him. “Liv? Honey, are you okay?”

Her dark eyes seemed too big for her face as she blinked up at him from behind her crooked glasses. Raw panic tore him to shreds inside. He hated being uncertain, being out of control. Not to mention the guilt. This was his fault. Dammit. He’d been back in her life less than a day and already he was screwing shit up again.

“I’m all right,” she said after a moment, her voice far too weak for his liking. His concern must have shown on his face, because a moment later she was reaching up to pat his cheek, giving him a wan smile. “Really, Levon, it’s all right. I started getting dizzy spells as soon as I hit my second trimester. It’s one symptom I haven’t been able to shake.”

“What can I do?” Anything, he’d do anything for her. For their baby. Wage war, whatever she needed.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much anyone can do. Honestly.” Olive squirmed in his hold, trying to free herself, but Levon held fast. She might not like being carried like this, but he wasn’t putting her down until he knew she was safe. Without asking, he took her down the hall and into the bedroom where he’d put her bags earlier, depositing her gently on the mattress.

“You look worn out—you should rest,” he said, stepping back.

Olive frowned up at him, opened her mouth like she was going to protest, then snapped it shut again. After a while, she said, “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need you worrying about me. These dizzy spells come on when I’m overtired, overworked, or overemotional—and right now, after the day I’ve had, I’m all three. I’m fine. Really. So is the baby. Please, don’t go thinking I can’t handle this on my own, because I’ve been doing just fine until you got here.”

Levon hid his wince at that, barely. She was right, of course. She’d gotten through almost all of this pregnancy without any help from him whatsoever. If he hadn’t volunteered for this mission, he might never have known about their baby. But now that he did, he couldn’t just walk away from his responsibilities, especially when she might be involved in his case. Protecting her was now part of his job—at least that was how Levon saw it. “I know you can handle this on your own, Olive. You’re one of the strongest, smartest people I’ve ever known.”

Pink returned to her cheeks and he had to stop himself from reaching up to stroke her skin, to see if it was as velvet-soft as he remembered. This wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, he reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of PJs covered with planets and galaxies and some science professor-looking guy. Only Olive. Levon shook his head and chuckled as he tossed them to her. “Nice pajamas. Who’s that? Bill Nye the Science Guy? Put these on and get ready for bed before you drop again from exhaustion. We can talk more in the morning.”

She caught the clothes in one hand and shook her head. “It’s Carl Sagan, from Cosmos.” At his blank look, she sighed. “You’re being a mother hen.”

“Olive.” He gave her a serious look, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I want you to do me a favor and stop taking this all so lightly.”

Olive frowned down at her PJs. “I’m not taking it lightly. I’m just trying to process it all. This isn’t what I deal with every day, like you. Cut me some slack. I’m doing my best here.”

“So am I.” He took a deep breath, scowling down at his hands. “And dealing with assholes like the Reapers isn’t my usual MO either. I’m used to terrorists and snipers and the occasional warlord. But these guys—the Reapers…I don’t want you thinking that just because they’re a home-grown threat that they’re not dangerous. They’re deadly, believe me. And they don’t just murder the people who cross or betray them. They torture them. The threats they’re making against you now aren’t idle.”

Olive swallowed hard, her fingers clutching the clothes in her hands closer to her abdomen, like a shield. “So when I go home tomorrow, I’ll have a new security system installed. I’ll—”

“You’re staying with me until this case is closed,” Levon interrupted. “That’s non-negotiable.”

Olive sat up abruptly. “I can’t!”

“Why can’t you?”

She wanted to argue again, he could tell from the glint of determination in her eyes. But then he could also see the invisible wheels turning in her head as she quickly worked out that he was right. Finally, those stiff shoulders of hers slumped. “Fine. You’re right. If the Reapers are as scary as you say, then I do need a safer living situation.” She looked around the room. “But that doesn’t mean I have to stay here. There’s only one bed!”

“What’s wrong? My California king not spacious enough for you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Olive grumbled. “Don’t be obtuse.”

“Obtuse? Lord, I’m going to have to dig out my dictionary again, aren’t I?” Levon shook his head and stood. “We can go back to your place tomorrow and pack up more of your stuff.”

“You’re going with me to protect me,” she said. “And I don’t believe for a second you don’t know what ‘obtuse’ means.”

Levon smiled and she grumbled under her breath, crawling out of bed to head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. He stayed where he was, sorting through the texts and emails on his phone until she returned, looking far too adorable in those flannel PJs. When she sidled past him again to slide beneath the covers, she smelled like flowers and minty toothpaste. His gut tightened, wanting nothing more than to strip off his clothes and join her in bed, but that wouldn’t help anything at the moment. Reluctantly, he stood and started toward the door.

He made it halfway before she called out softly behind him, “Levon?”

Hearing his name on her lips again quivered inside him, shaking him to his core. Without thought, he headed back to the bedside to her, reaching down to tuck her hair behind her ear before he could stop himself. “What is it, sweetheart?”

She caught his wrist and heat and awareness sizzled through his skin, jolting his nerve endings. “Will you stay with me? Until I fall asleep.”

“Whatever you want,” he said, the words gruff to his own ears. His throat felt tight with a wave of emotions—need, want, wariness, joy. Levon sat on the edge of the bed again and

watched while Olive snuggled under the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Her eyelids gradually sank lower and lower until they closed.

Levon waited until her breath evened out into the patterns of sleep, then couldn’t resist resting his hand on her baby bump one more time, lost in thought, lost in the strange, alien sensation of cradling a life that had yet to be born.

My baby. Our baby. My world.