Untraceable (47 page)

“
But it is
true—“

I opened my mouth to object when he
stopped me.

“
Shhh, baby, just let me
finish. The next time I saw her, she wanted me again,” he paused,
and swallowed, “but this time without the pain.”

“
You made love to her?” I
asked weakly. I wasn’t sure which idea I loathed more; Micah as an
animal, or Micah being passionate with someone who didn’t deserve
the experience.

“
No, Annalisa, I’ve only
done that with one person, and that’s you. I gave her what she
wanted, but as far as her satisfying something inside me beyond the
physical, she didn’t. I finally realized that the good person
inside of me is you—you
are
that good part of me. Without you, I’m something
empty and ugly. When I’m with you, I’m a man, a good man who can be
gentle, a man who can care, a man who can feel love instead of just
having sex.

“
It’s cliché for a man to
say, ‘she didn’t mean anything to me,’ but she didn’t, she
couldn’t;
you
are
the one who means
everything
to me. I know how much this hurt you, and I
understand that I can’t take that hurt away, but I don’t want any
doubts in your mind—
she didn’t mean
anything to me
.”

The pain was still in my chest, but I
whispered to him that I believed him. If it had been any other
reason for him to have been with another woman, I don’t think his
words would have had meaning, but this was different and I knew he
felt he had no choice. “How much time do we have?”

“
It’s twelve now, but I
have a lot to get done—maybe an hour before I need to leave and set
this up.”

“
Then for the next hour,”
I said softly as I closed my eyes and truly relaxed for the first
time in what seemed like an eternity, “don’t let go.”

He cocooned me into himself, his arms
around me, and his leg draped over mine, “I won’t, baby, I
won’t.”

I fell into one of the deepest sleeps
of my life.

CHAPTER thirty-six

When I woke, I was facing away,
wrapped securely in strong arms, but they weren’t Micah’s. One
flutter of my eyelids and I saw Ryan’s big tattoo—they’d traded
out.

I rolled away from him.

He moaned and yawned, and peeped at me
through heavy lids.

“
Where’s Micah?!” I asked
sitting up, panicking as I realized hours had passed. “What time is
it?”

He pulled out his cell and glanced at
the display, “Four.”

“
I didn’t get to say
goodbye,” I quickly uttered, attempting to get it out before my
emotions stopped me. I knew what he was doing was dangerous, and
even with all the help from my father’s men, I was
scared.

“
You were so tired,
baby-girl, he didn’t want to wake you, so he asked if I’d stay with
you.”

“
Are they all
gone?”

“
Your dad is here with
Botachelli—well, at least he was when I came in and laid down with
you.”

I rose slowly, my back ached and my
maternity skirt felt oddly cold. I looked at Ryan’s left hip and
noticed his jeans were dark and the hem of his tee-shirt looked
wet. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as he noticed the wet
place in the bed.

“
Oh, damn—Ryan, I’m so
sorry—I—I—think I peed the bed.”

He turned scarlet, but then he
laughed, “I’m freaking glad that it was you because I was afraid
this was my fault.”

Nausea rushed up inside my throat; I
covered my mouth and ran for the bathroom. I hadn’t been sick like
this since my first trimester. I was on my knees, hugging the
toilet and heaving when I felt one of Ryan’s hands on my shoulder
as his other rubbed my back. “Nerves,” I stated unsteadily as my
stomach tried to return to its proper placement in my anatomy. I
heard water running and then a damp wash cloth was being placed in
my hand.

“
Leese, you’re okay right?
You’re not having any contractions are you?”

I looked up to see he was sniffing the
edge of his tee-shirt.

“
This doesn’t smell like
urine, but kind of like…” he took another sniff, “like something
sweet.”

“
I’m only thirty-four or
thirty-five weeks along. It’s too early for—aah!”

His face turned ashen and
his eyes went round,
“What?”

I couldn’t answer him for the moment
as this strange tightening rippled through me. It was as if someone
was trying to pull my belly button to the bottom of my tailbone.
I’d felt this sensation off and on since the day Trent helped me
escape, but it had been gentle like a mild muscle ache. I thought
I’d strained myself by dragging all those vines around my
ankles—but this wasn’t gentle—this was hard and I couldn’t talk as
it gripped my attention.

I heard the bedroom door
open, and my father was saying something. Ryan spun around and left
me sitting there, and I heard him say,
‘We’ve got bigger problems!’

My dad was now standing in
the doorway of the bathroom appearing nervous for the first time
since I’d met him,
“Are you having that
baby now?!”

“
Well, it’s not my
choice!” I cried out as I inhaled the first good breath since the
pain ebbed.

“
Sharon told him she
needed more time—plane trouble or some bullshit.”

Ryan had his phone in hand and was
pushing numbers.

“
Who are you calling?” my
dad demanded.

“
Freaking 911, who’d you
think?”

He snatched the phone from Ryan and
snapped it closed.

“
What the hell did you do
that for? She needs an ambulance!”

“
There is a truck with
ninety million dollars worth of cocaine, guns, and mafia members
who are going to be in the driveway in ten minutes—I don’t think we
can chance the police coming with the ambulance. We’ll take her
there in the car.”

“
Micah’s coming back?” I
asked with a quiver as I tried to stand.

“
Yes, but—”

“
I can wait for him to get
here.”

“
No you can’t!” Ryan said
about five octaves higher than a normal male.

“
Ryan, it’s ten minutes,”
I reasoned, “babies take hours to arrive.”

He took my hand and helped me to the
bed, but as soon as I reached it I could feel another contraction
mounting. I didn’t want to tell him—it certainly wouldn’t take a
genius to figure out my pains were only about one minute apart, but
he saw it in my face anyway.

“
You can’t wait,” he
pled.

“
Call him,
Dad—please—call—him,” I said through fractured breaths.

It didn’t take that box truck ten
minutes to arrive with Micah at the wheel. I could hear the tires
screeching on the concrete as it roared into the yard.

“
Leese, I’m sorry but I
have to take your underwear off and see,” Ryan said with a hard
swallow, “if I can see the baby’s head.”

Even though I knew Ryan’s mom was a
nurse, I didn’t know if he had a clue about what he was doing—of
course, at the moment, it felt like my body was in a wrestling
match with the incredible hulk, I really didn’t care what he took
off of me. I nodded as he reached under my skirt and pulled off my
panties.

The first thing I saw was
blood.

“
That’s okay, right?” I
asked, needing him to nod, speak, make eye contact,
something—anything other than to stare with that look on his
face.

Micah burst into the room with my dad
right behind him.

They both froze.

“
Oh shit,” escaped my
father’s lips.

“
We’re not making it to
the car,” Ryan announced, “but I sure would feel better if you
son-of-a-bitches would call for that ambulance!”

My Dad was in a tug-of-war with Micah
over his cell phone, telling him he couldn’t call unless someone
got that truck the hell out of there first. I saw Micah
turn.

“
Micah!!”
I screamed,
“Fuck that
truck! I need you!!”

Just then, Jonathan appeared in the
doorway with a similar reaction as the other men in the room. My
Dad told Jonathan to take the truck and the other men and get out
of there. He was motionless for a second until my Dad popped him in
the face with an open hand and shouted, “Ora! Giovanni!
Ora!”

I was relieved to hear my dad talking
with a 911 operator, but my biggest relief was that Micah was
beside me holding my hand and telling me it was all going to be
okay. Then he was shouting the house address to my dad.

“
Ca—call—my—m—mom,” I
tried to get out.

“
Leese, don’t push. Stop
pushing!” Ryan demanded.

I felt the horrible discomfort of his
fingers working their way inside me.

“
Stop pushing!” he
repeated, removing his hand, and then sliding my skirt up to my
hips.

“
I can’t help it!”
I snapped back.

“
Please
Leese
,” he begged, “
stop! The baby’s scalp is turning blue—you’ve gotta stop
pushing!”

“
What’s
wrong?!”

I didn’t recognize the voice at first,
but it was Micah—and it sounded like he was on the verge of
freaking out.

“
You don’t know what the
hell you’re doing,” my dad growled at Ryan.

“
Dad, leave him
alone!”

“
What’s wrong?” Micah
repeated.

“
The cord is tangled
around his neck; if she keeps pushing, he’ll strangle.”

“
Leese, stop pushing,
baby!”

I wanted to stop, but my body seemed
to have a mind of its own. I started blowing panted breaths through
my mouth so that my lungs wouldn’t have enough air for me to bear
down.

“
Can’t you do something?”
my dad asked Ryan.

I watched his head lift as he gave a
brief look at the two men, “My God, don’t you people ever watch the
freaking Discovery channel! Hold on, Leese. We’re out of time, baby
girl, hold on.”

I felt the sensation like he was
trying to push the baby back inside me. I could feel my skin
ripping and burning as his fingers, once again, worked inside my
opening. I didn’t cry out, but I couldn’t stop the rush of tears
from the pain.”

“
Got it!” he yelled,
“Push, Leese, push!”

There was more burning as I bore down,
and then, suddenly, I felt a ‘pop.’ I knew the baby’s head had
cleared.

“
Get me a freaking towel,”
Ryan yelled as he worked the baby’s shoulders out.

With almost no effort at that point, I
felt my son slide out from inside me. “Is he okay?! Is he
okay?”

Ryan took the towel from my father’s
shaking hands and wiped the blue and motionless baby’s
face.

“
Oh God!” I cried out,
“He’s dead—he’s dead!”

Micah was holding on to me, sobbing
and praying as we watched Ryan place his mouth over the tiny mouth
and nose. He gave a little breath.

Nothing.

He wiped the inside of the baby’s
mouth again, and then blew once more. I watched the tiny arms and
legs shudder convulsively and then I heard a tiny cough, followed
by the most beautiful sound on earth—he started to cry. His bluish
color quickly turned to pink as his cries increased in
intensity.

My dad had Ryan by the back of the
neck giving him a shake, yelling, “You did it! You did it!
Son-of-a-bitch, you did it!”

“
Yeah,” Ryan said with
tears on his cheeks, “Get me another towel, would ya?”

That was when we heard the sound of a
distant siren. The ambulance was on the way—a little late, but at
least on the way.

By the time the paramedics rushed into
the room, Ryan had wrapped the baby in a towel (as best he could
with the umbilical cord still attaching the baby and I together),
and had placed him on my stomach.

“
Wow,” the first paramedic
said as he came over to the bed, “what’d ya call us for? Looks like
you knew what you’re doing,” he said giving a laugh and patting
Ryan on the back.

I wondered for a second
how he knew, and then I realized what a bloody mess Ryan still was.
My dad turned to Ryan and happily announced that he was so glad he
decided
not
to
shoot him.

Boy, did that ever cause all the
emergency workers to give him a strange look!

They started me on an IV, as another
EMT said the cord needed to be cut now, not later. They placed two
clamps and then turned to Micah and handed him a pair of
scissors.

“
I take it you’re the
proud papa,” he said (since Micah hadn’t turned loose of my hand).
“You get to do the honors, buddy—cut the cord—just make sure you
cut
between
the
clamps.”