The General (Professionals 4)

Then, of course, shit heated up.

And no matter how in love you might be, that is not on the forefront of your mind when you’re alone against five-to-one odds in a street fight. Then, it is all about the adrenaline, the training, the instincts, the sick sort of pleasure I still got at times for bashing some heads together.

The job hadn’t been the simple ass-kicking assignment Quin and I had originally figured, had become this whole thing between rivaling gangs, needing Kai, Lincoln, and Miller before, in the end, Bellamy and Finn needed to be called in instead, leaving me behind to ensure that everything went to plan, that the client was happy, that there was nothing that could trace back to any of us.

Then Finn headed out on a flight.

The next day, so did Bellamy and I.

And we were supposed to be heading home.

To Navesink Bank.

To my woman who hadn’t seen me in two weeks, who I had only gotten three short phone calls with in all that time.

But this was Bellamy we were talking about.

I should have known better than to look away from my fucking drink.

I woke up half a day later facedown in an unfamiliar bed in some luxury hotel room, a white envelope sitting next to my face.

“That fuck,” I growled as I forced my arm to move, to reach for the letter, finding all the muscles slow and weak, making my fingers grab for – and not close around – the envelope four times before they finally got it, flicked open the fold, and pulled out the white postcard.

Welcome to Hawaii.

Hawaii?

I rubbed my tongue around my mouth, trying to swipe away the dry, cotton feeling of my tongue, gums, and roof of my mouth from whatever he’d used to knock me out, as I flipped the postcard over to find Bellamy’s scrawling script.

You’re welcome.

He thought I’d be grateful for being drugged and kidnapped and deposited on an island instead of letting me go home to my woman?

On a grumble, I flopped heavily over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, waiting for all my muscles to remember how they were supposed to work.

There was a knock at the door, making me sigh, forcing my lazy body upward and across the room, reaching for the locks, then pulling it open.

And there she was.

In Hawaii.

With a lei around her neck.

And a small, uncertain smile on her lips.

“At least he didn’t drug you,” I said with a smile of my own, reaching out, dragging her against my body.

“Is kidnapping something I was supposed to mentally prepare myself for?” she asked against my chest as she took a slow, deep breath, drawing me in like she often did. She said I smelled like sawdust and campfire.

She smelled like sugar cookies and clay, her unique, perfect scent.

“It never used to be,” I told her with a chuckle. “But then…”

“Bellamy,” she filled in for me.

“Yep. Bellamy,” I agreed.

But after weeks away from my woman, getting an island vacation with her where we didn’t have to hide anything, could be exactly what we were – a couple very newly, but very deeply in love? Yeah, I was okay with it.

So, well, we mentally prepared ourselves for future kidnappings.

Because… Bellamy.

Jenny – 10 months

The apartment sold without a hitch, actually going into a bidding war, getting me a solid hundred-grand more than the listing price.

I’d found a new finance guy – one with no links to my former father-in-law. I gave him some of the money to invest, and socked the rest of it away.

I was busy with my jewelry business. Well, busy by online clay jewelry selling standards. I’d sold over two-hundred pieces.

But prices at only about ten to fifty dollars a piece, I wasn’t exactly raking it in.

It felt good to make my own money.

But I was being practical, careful with what came from the sale of the apartment, Teddy’s car, the expensive furniture I hated.

Not because I was living some big, grand, expensive life, but because I had a future to think about now.

One with Noah.

One that maybe, possibly, hopefully included children. Who I would want to have the chance at having any kind of education they might want. I never wanted to have a child who would feel like they had to settle down, a daughter who thought her only choice was to marry to have an easier life. I wanted them to have dreams and goals and plans for themselves before they settled down. I wanted them to be sure of themselves, so full of confidence and the knowledge of their own self-worth that they would never settle for abuse of any kind. In fact, would never settle for less than they deserved.

Meaning everything.

I wanted to sell the house.

But the real estate agent told me that with the tragedy surrounding Teddy’s death, it might be a good idea to wait a year or two since that information would have to be disclosed to potential buyers.