“Yes,” I say, leaning down to kiss her. “I think you’re pregnant.”
CHAPTER 31
SARAH
I’ve never been pregnant before, but once he says it, I know he’s right. I’m carrying his child. My love has taken root, and my decisions are no longer mine alone.
I want him with a new fever hot enough to melt the rest of the world. Everything we have to do together is paint dripping away, leaving the bare canvas behind. I reach for his waistband, but he’s already opened it so I can grip the hard source of the love he put inside me.
He peels off my underwear and runs his fingers over me and inside.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re my life.”
“Take your life.” I guide his cock toward me.
“My beautiful life.” He slides in gently, then picks me up. My legs wrap around his waist. He takes two steps. “I’m not going to make it upstairs.”
I laugh. Still inside me, he drops to the floor and fucks me there. Slowly, kissing my face and shoulders. Hitching my dress over my breasts, he kisses them with reverence and a lust too deep to be rushed.
We move as one, our individual defenses merging from separate shells into a single envelope of security and desire. I’m slowly overtaken by the intensity of our surrender. We are everything in the world.
His desires are mine. What he wants in the world is what I want. We are nothing without each other.
When I come, I say his name, and it’s my name too.
We’re dressed, cleaning up the plates. Such a simple, everyday chore while we make plans to deliver a couple dozen humans from slavery.
“First thing,” he says, “we have to go into the city and see if Connor’s still hanging around. If he is, he has to have seen something. If he did, we’ll know where to plan our attack.”
“And if he didn’t?”
“Then we’ll probably see your family on the airfield in St. Maarten. There will be a fight. We’ll be in a foreign country.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He kicks the dishwasher closed. “If he’s not there, we’ll wait. See if he shows up.”
“Check by the Murray Hill apartment too.”
He nods but won’t make eye contact.
“Anyplace else?” He punches the button to start the wash.
“Remo was early morning and late night. Connor was usually watching in the day. His arm’s in a sling.”
Tapping on the counter, he stands with his head bowed.
“They shot him that night. Probably his collarbone. Shit.”
“Dario?”
“This isn’t a plan.”
“Not yet. But it will be.”
“It’s not ever going to be a plan!” He’s frustrated. “After what I did, I’m responsible for those women, and I don’t know if keeping you safe is keeping you with me or keeping you safe is leaving you behind.”
“After all this, you don’t get it.” Now I’m frustrated. “I can take care of myself.”
“You’re not getting it. I don’t want you to. I left the job to Connor because all I want is to take care of you. He’s supposed to take care of the cargo ship coming into Red Hook. He’s supposed to stay with Colonia escapees. My only job is supposed to be you and our family, and I fucked it up.”
From behind, I wrap my arms around him, pressing my hands to his heart. I feel the pounding of its rhythm.
“You’re worried I may be pregnant.”
“You are.”
“And if something happens to me, we lose that.”
He turns and puts his hands on my jaw. “If I die, I’ll live inside you. If I’m caught and trapped again, a part of me will be free.”
“You’re chickening out.” Gently, I pull his hands down and hold them. “Locking me up isn’t the only way to keep me safe. And you’re alone. Maybe I need to protect you.”
“You need to think harder about what you need to protect.”
He’s talking about the baby. My job, first and foremost, is to make sure it grows and lives to see the world. He’s right, and I hate it. I need to be with him, fixing what we broke. I can’t sit here and wait for him to die or save the world when staying behind makes it more likely he won’t come back.
“Okay,” I say. “Here’s what we can do. You go. Check for Connor. And while you’re out, get a pregnancy test. Then we’ll know.”
“I know already.”
“Get the test anyway. Just to shut me up. If I’m not, we fight tomorrow.”
“And when you are?”
“We plan around it.”
I can tell he finds this answer inadequate and he’s about to argue, but a loud beep fills the room. With a gasp, I jump away. He’s as calm as the eye of a storm.
“If they come for us”—he opens the cabinet with the security monitor behind it—“they’re not going to ring the bell.”
The monitor shows a wide view of the two cars at the gate and the driver of the front car—a shaved-bald man I don’t recognize. I flip my attention back to wide view. The car in front is a black Buick Skylark.
“Is that my car?!” I cry.
“It is.” He presses the button and calls to the driver, “I’ll be right out.” He lets it go. “It was towed. I know a guy who got it out before they impounded it or found the guns you hid in it.” He kisses me. “Wait here.”
He walks to the garage. The BMW is there, waiting. I follow and find Dario getting a pistol and holster from the cabinet.
“I told you to wait.” He buckles the holster.
“I am waiting.”
He pushes a button to open the garage door and walks out. Without thinking, I follow him. He turns, sees me, stops.
“Sarah, I said—”
“To wait.”
He points at the seam where the concrete floor of the garage meets the white stones of the driveway. “See this line?”
“Yes.”
“Wait on that side of it. Please. It’s just the front gate.”
“Okay.”
I wait, watching him walk away. The gun is in the holster. Can he get it out in time? What if they shoot him before he can respond? Who is this guy who can get my car out of impound? Is he trustworthy? Can he be bought? Will they take him away and put him in a box again?
He’s too small in the distance. Even if I run to him now, by the time I get there, he could be bleeding. If I wait until he opens the gate, he could be gone.
Thinking about it, I can’t breathe.
I don’t think I can do this.
But I can’t get shot either. I can’t get captured and put in a box either, because it’s not just me anymore. I’m carrying a piece of him.
I can watch. I can be a sentinel for him. Slapping the button to the garage door as I run back into the house, I get into the little hallway under the stairs, to the bank of closed-circuit monitors where I see Dario open the gate. There’s a second car waiting. Is that…
The driver gets out. He’s big. Tall. He could be a soldier for someone, but I still don’t recognize him as Colonia.