Shatter: The Evangeline Series, #4

By Astrid Aurelius

Sam and Ben continue to search for breadcrumbs to lead them to Henry, but their progress is interrupted when they discover that the task force has been compromised.

 

When options become scarce, they resolve to play their Ace: leveraging the secret of someone associated with Henry, giving them renewed hope to put an end to The Crocodile and his menacing deeds.

 

But The Crocodile mercilessly trolls Sam as she and Ben continue to dream and build a life together, carrying on to experience both the bitter and sweet in their own happily ever after.

 

Can their happily ever after last? Or will The Crocodile haunt them further in a game they no longer wish to play?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Astrid Aurelius
• Release date: May 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985536324

Astrid Aurelius

I have been writing casually for years and first discovered a love of writing my senior year in high school. When I went to college, I continued writing in English classes required by my degree plan, which I enjoyed, but opted to major in Accounting because, you know, Accountants have stable careers. I eventually became a CPA…and taught myself how to drink whiskey—those two things might be related. My writing style is pretty conversational; I don’t take myself too seriously. I enjoy writing about things I know like hiking, drinking wine, and being socially awkward. I prefer to write long-hand and type it up later and have been known to write in the bathtub with a full glass of wine handy. I live in Round Rock, Texas with my husband, two kids, and two geriatric pups.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sam was still crying when she pulled into her garage. Ben had called three times during the drive, and each time, she declined the call. After the third time, she turned off her phone.

She sat in her car, pressing her hands to her face. A plethora of emotions were rapidly circulating, taking control of her thoughts, and she couldn’t make them stop.

What’s wrong with you? Ben doesn’t want some crazy chick that’s going to fly off the handle any time he speaks his mind.

You’re so stupid. You knew you messed up. Why did you believe him yesterday when he told you everything was fine?

He was angry with you because he was right. Greece wasn’t only an opportunity for intel; it was payback. You know it deep down. Part of you wanted shit to hit the fan so he would feel guilty about going to USP Lee.

He shouldn’t have gone behind your back. He should have told you he was planning the op at USP Lee.

Why did you tell him you didn’t need him? That’s not true.

She sobbed anew and flung her car door open, snatched her bag out of the passenger seat, and entered her house, marching straight to her bedroom. After throwing the bag into her closet with violent force, she collapsed onto her bed and cried, then rolled her face into a pillow. Taking a deep breath, Ben’s scent filled her nostrils, forcing her shattered heart to crumble completely. She cried so hard she couldn’t breathe.

She picked up her cell phone, tempted to turn it back on, but her pride stopped her. The pain in her chest intensified as she set the phone down.

Just call him back, Sam…

No…he’s the asshole, not me.

You’re both assholes; call him back.

She sighed and took a breath; Ben’s scent tormented her still, so she rolled out of bed and went downstairs. Her eyes found the clock.

The Red Sox game would have started by now.

With a whimper, she turned on the TV, changing it to the channel the game was on. She assumed Ben was watching it, probably sitting on his couch drinking beer or scotch, hating her. She laid on her sofa, resting her head on the armrest, as tears continued rolling down her cheeks, wishing she hadn’t gotten so upset with him; that she had just heard him out; given him a chance to say what was on his mind.

He’s being way too protective of me…

Maybe he is, but it’s because he loves you.

She watched the TV screen and blinked slowly as she wrestled with whether she should call him.

The second inning ended; the score 0-0. Her eyelids were heavy, on the verge of closing, when the door to her basement garage opened. She gasped and sat upright, seeing Ben walk in, and without warning, the floodgates burst. She staggered to her feet, then ambled over to him, wiping tears from her face with the back of her hand.

Registering his glassy eyes and red cheeks, she didn’t know what to do as she studied him.

Should I touch him? Would he let me?

She took a ragged breath.

I’m sorry, Sam.

It took her a moment to realize he had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest.

Am I dreaming?

Ben… she croaked. She put her arms around his waist and squeezed him to make sure he was real. I’m sorry, too. You were right; about all of it. You must think I’m such a crazy bitch, she blurted, a tremor in her voice.

No. He shook his head. Not at all.

She laughed despite her tears. Liar.

He laughed too. The rumble of his chest was the most amazing feeling. "Maybe just a little. But it’s okay. You’re my crazy bitch."

I’m sorry. She sighed. For not hearing you out. For leaving. For not answering when you called. She paused. We need to be able to communicate. To know we can say what we’re thinking without fear of getting shut down.

She both heard and felt him take a deep breath.

You’re right, but it’s also important to approach things constructively. I didn’t have a solid grasp on my emotions, and I let them cloud what I was saying to you. One of his hands moved to the back of her head, his fingers lacing into her hair. Do you forgive me?

With a sniffle, she pulled back and smiled. Yes. She nodded. A thousand times, yes. Remembering what she said about not needing him, her voice cracked as she continued, I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I do need you and I want to be your partner. I don’t know why I said that. Do you forgive me?

Of course; always.

She sighed with relief and pressed her cheek against his shoulder, then a question entered her head. How did you get in here, anyway?

He hesitated for a moment. I picked the lock.

She heard the smile in his voice. I’m such a terrible girlfriend; you gave me your key, but I haven’t given you mine. I guess we’ll need to fix that.

Or I can just keep picking the lock. It’s good practice.

You’re a mess, Ben Baxter.

Only for you.

Alright, babe; let’s watch the Red Sox win, she said, looking into his face.

Ben chuckled. Yes, ma’am.

Chapter 2

It was Thursday—the day before leaving for New Orleans for Sam’s birthday weekend—and Sam and Ben were both beyond exhausted. The week ended up being very hectic; many agencies from the task force requested one-on-one meetings with them to discuss in more detail the events that transpired in Greece. The CIA was especially interested in knowing—to the letter—what happened to Costas Masalis, their newly acquired asset. During these discussions, Sam was told about the involvement of Isaac in her extraction. Ben wasn’t sure how she felt about it; she was uncharacteristically neutral at the revelation. If there was a moment he wished she hadn’t mastered her poker face, it was that one. He wanted to ask, but thought she might need time to process the news. He was still processing it himself.

They learned late Wednesday evening that Jaku had been found dead in his prison cell. He’d been moved to solitary confinement, as Ben had suggested to the warden, but Jaku apparently made up his mind and took his own life, hanging himself using his bed sheet.

All the task force agencies commended their work and shared their extreme appreciation with The Baxter Group for not only putting a face to the notorious Crocodile name, but also for giving them something concrete to look for, in the form of the helicopter and the freighter.

They didn’t leave HQ until 9 o’clock Thursday night. Ben walked Sam to her car, urging her to be swift with her packing and return to his place.

I’m mostly packed, so I won’t be long, Petty Officer Baxter. She saluted with a gleam in her eye and he chuckled, recognizing she was teasing him for being bossy. Then she got into her Subaru and drove away.

It was almost midnight when she finally arrived at Ben’s. After carrying her suitcase to his bedroom, she face-planted onto his bed with a moan.

He laughed. I know you haven’t eaten dinner; can I make you something?

I’m too tired to eat, she mumbled into the pillow.

Alright. He chuckled.

She groaned as she stood and started undressing. He was careful not to watch her for too long, because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else, opting to focus on her long, dark blonde hair. Can I borrow a shirt from you to sleep in, please? I don’t want to open my bag and dig for my pajamas; that’s too much effort right now.

Of course. He pulled off his t-shirt and handed it to her. Wear this one.

Aw. I didn’t mean for you to give me the shirt off your back, she said, taking it from him and putting it on. Thank you. She crawled back into bed.

He slid his glasses onto his face, preparing to read some reports he hadn’t had time to review that week. He joined her on the bed, but sat propped up to read.

She reached out and touched his arm with gentle fingertips. I’m really excited about this weekend. Her voice was thick with drowsiness.

Noting how tired she looked, he smiled. Me too. He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead, but she draped a hand behind his neck and held his face close to hers as she kissed his lips.

Goodnight, Benjamin Baxter.

Goodnight, Evangeline Sampierre. Then he watched as her eyes fluttered and closed.

Chapter 3

Sam opened her eyes and blinked several times, panicked. Quickly sitting up, she turned on the lamp and sighed, relieved that the light banished the suffocating darkness. She peered at Ben, but was surprised he wasn’t in bed next to her. She glanced at the bathroom doorway, and it was dark.

She wandered onto the landing of the stairs, staring into the shadowy space below.

Did he move to the couch for some reason?

Tiptoeing down the stairs to take a closer look, she saw by the pale moonlight shining through the large windows that the couch was empty.

Ben? she called with a mixture of concern and confusion. No answer. Turning to walk back up the stairs, she called his name again. Ben? Her voice held a hint of urgency, and an unfamiliar uneasiness hovered over her. She walked into the loft space upstairs, which was also dark, exploring the wall with her hands, looking for the light switch. "Ben!" she shouted, increasingly frustrated by how dark it was and the fact that he wasn’t responding.

The outline of a tall figure standing from the sofa stole her breath. Her heart leapt and a mask of relief seized her face as she found the light switch at last. But her smile fell when her brain registered what her eyes saw. Daddy? she asked, tilting her head and drawing her eyebrows together. What are you doing here? When did you get here?

My cher… Everett took a step toward her and his eyes glistened with tears, holding a sadness she had never seen before.

Baby girl. Sam spun around, seeing her mom, her face etched with the same brand of sorrow as her dad’s.

Mama? Her eyes moved between the two of them and she ran her hands through her thick hair, remembering that she wore Ben’s shirt, worried about her dad getting the wrong idea. Not that I’m unhappy to see you or anything, but what are y’all doing here? Ben and I are flying home tomorrow. Where the hell is he, anyway? Her face heated as that cloud of uneasiness surrounded her and squeezed like a vise.

Sam…baby… Theresa closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Sam’s shoulders, pulling her into the tightest hug her mother had given her in years. Theresa sobbed softly as she repeated, Baby girl, it’s going to be okay.

The moment felt eerily similar to a memory, sending Sam back to the day she learned that JoAnna—her childhood best friend—had disappeared. Mama, why are you crying? And why are you saying that? Sam’s uneasiness subsided, only to be replaced with fear.

My cher, you’ve been through a lot. The doctor warned us this might happen. Everett placed a warm hand on her back. Why don’t you come sit down?

Theresa pulled away from Sam and led her to the dark green sofa. What doctor? What are you talking about? Her fear yielded to anger. Y’all aren’t making any sense!

Theresa and Everett exchanged nervous glances. Sam, darlin’…please sit and I’ll try to explain.

Sam knew her consternation was all over her face, but she took a seat. Okay, Mama.

Theresa sat next to Sam and held her hands; her wet, gray eyes locked onto Sam’s. About four weeks ago, you and Ben went to some auction, a private one. You were there for a work assignment.

Yes… Sam studied her mother’s face as she spoke.

Yes. Well, while you were there, something went wrong. There was a man, his name was Jaku Van Der Meer. He was gonna… Theresa took a ragged breath. He was gonna kill you, baby.

Sam wondered how they found out about that. Yes; but he didn’t. A SWAT team arrived right on time and stopped him.

Theresa glanced at Everett again, her expression desperate. Well…yes, baby. But not before Ben… Theresa clenched her jaw. Ben was there, too, and tried to stop him, but… Theresa paused on a sob. Baby, he shot Ben instead. In the chest. He died instantly.

Sam squinted her eyes and stared at the floor, then shook her head. No. No, Mama; he didn’t shoot Ben. The SWAT team came in right before Jaku was going to shoot me, and we took cover. We left together and came back here that night. A distant shrieking in the back of her mind sent a frigid chill through her bones.

Theresa stood, her hands clasped over her mouth. She paced for a few moments, then abruptly left the loft space. Sam heard her walking toward Ben’s room and she looked at her dad, who stood behind her with drooping shoulders and tear-streaked cheeks.

Moments later, Theresa returned, holding something bundled in her hands. Sweetheart, this is the dress you wore that night, she said, then continued. I’m only showing you this to help you remember. The bundle of silver fabric unfurled like a sail and Theresa held it in front of Sam.

Sam stopped breathing. A dark substance saturated the front of the dress. She reached out and touched it with hesitant fingertips, then pulled it from her mother’s hands, glaring at it, studying it, accusing it of being unreal. An image flashed briefly in her mind and she closed her eyes, trying to remember.

She remembered knocking out Masalis, slicing his knee open and taking his cell phone, then returning to the hangar to look for Ben. But a man with dark eyes forced her to leave with him, escorting her to the horse barn.

In the horse barn, she remembered seeing Ben getting beaten by Jaku and his men, followed by Jaku’s aggressive questioning of her and the realization that nothing she could have said would satisfy him as he raised his gun to her face.

Then, as if watching an episode of a show that previously ended with a cliffhanger, she saw Ben dive between her and Jaku at the exact moment he pulled the trigger. Jaku shot him in the chest at point-blank range.

"No!" she’d shrieked as the SWAT team burst through the door, then threw herself onto Ben’s bleeding body lying on the dirty floor while pandemonium consumed the world around them.

She screamed for help and covered the gushing wound with her hands, willing the bleeding to stop, begging God to save him; to make him okay. But no one heard her over the shooting and shouting.

He didn’t speak, but his eyes were locked onto hers, saying I love you…saying goodbye.

She refused to leave him, covering him with her body, feeling the blood soaking her dress and dampening her skin underneath. Stay with me, Ben. Please, stay with me. Please don’t leave me, she repeated again and again, but the moment his eyes closed and his chest ceased to rise, she collapsed against him, crying so hard her throat burned and her eyes swelled.

Eventually, the shooting stopped and arrests were made. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when the coroner arrived, she had to be forcibly removed from Ben, and a voice she barely recognized as her own was screaming, "No! Please don’t take him away from me. Please! She wasn’t sure if she was talking to the coroner or to God. She had to watch as they lifted him, placing him inside the body bag as she cried hysterically and mumbled No. No. No…" like a broken record, as she pressed her fists into her cheeks.

Ultimately, they wrapped her in a blanket after helping her to her feet, then escorted her to an ambulance, where they gave her a mild sedative. On the way back to Baxter HQ, they asked if there was anyone they could call who could take her home. She gave them Jim’s number—her old boss from the NSA, who was also like a father to her.

When Jim arrived, someone explained what had happened, and he approached Sam carefully. Hey, kid. Let’s get you home, okay? he whispered. They walked to his car, and he helped her get in the passenger side, then started driving to Sam’s townhouse.

No, she demanded. Please pull over.

Jim did as she said. What’s wrong?

The strange, calming effects of the sedative enveloped her as she exhaled. I want to go to Ben’s place. Please. She stared out the windshield.

Sure, Sam…I can take you there, he replied in his thick New England accent. I just need his address. Sam responded in a monotone, relaying the address to him. Jim tapped it into his phone to navigate to Ben’s apartment. Within minutes, Jim had pulled into Ben’s garage. He walked with her to the door and stood near as she let herself in with the key Ben had given her.

She stood in Ben’s living room, unmoving, her eyes traveling around the space, feeling nothing.

Sam, can I call someone for you? Jim asked softly.

She turned and stared at him. She lifted her phone, regarding it as if it was a strange, alien thing she didn’t realize she had been holding the whole time. My mom. She handed her unlocked phone to Jim.

Sam climbed the stairs slowly and stepped into Ben’s bedroom. Her eyes lingered on the bed, then she turned into the bathroom and saw her reflection in the mirror. She looked eerie, like something from a horror movie. Her eye makeup was running and her cheeks were smudged, but her red lips were flawless. Her dress was soaked with Ben’s blood and her neck, arms, and hands were stained as well. She swallowed hard and wondered how long the sedative would last. She didn’t like the way it made her feel…or not feel.

Jim entered the bathroom behind her. Your mom said she and your dad would be here in the morning.

Her eyes found his in the reflection, but she said nothing.

I’m gonna ask Patty to come over, if that’s alright, Sam? I don’t want you to be alone right now.

Sure, she replied, dropping her eyes.

Jim stepped out, and she heard him talking on the phone with his wife, Patricia. His call with her was brief, relaying the main headline and asking her to come over, giving her the address and instructions to get into the garage.

Sam wandered into Ben’s closet and reached out to touch his clothes, but stopped when she remembered the blood on her hands. She laid on the floor, curled on her side, closed her eyes and slept.

The next morning, Sam moaned as she awoke; her body was sore. Pushing herself to sit upright, her eyes fell to her bloodstained dress and hands. She couldn’t breathe, because when she did, all she could smell was Ben; his warm, spicy scent, tainted by the coppery aroma of his blood. She started crying and heard footsteps coming toward her. She was shocked to see her mother step into the closet.

Sam, baby. Theresa crouched to sit on the floor next to Sam and held her.

Sam buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and wept. She cried until her eyes could no longer produce tears. A large hand fell onto her shoulder and she lifted her head to see Everett holding a glass of water. Thank you, Daddy, she whispered weakly as she took the glass from him and drank.

Everything after that was a blur. From removing the blood-stained dress to meeting Ben’s dad for the first time… to the funeral held at Baxter HQ, then the burial. She watched as the American flag that draped his casket was folded, then given to Admiral Carter, who then presented it to Ben’s dad, Alexander.

All the text messages, the phone calls, the hugs, the thoughts and prayers…it all blended together into one cacophony of noise she couldn’t bear. She refused to stay anywhere but Ben’s place, needing to hang onto what she had left of him, knowing it was only a matter of time before his family had to decide what to do with the apartment.

She hadn’t been sleeping, which prompted her parents to contact Sam’s doctor, who prescribed a mild sedative to help. The doctor warned her parents that it could affect her memory, so they should use it sparingly.

She opened her eyes, holding the dress, looking at her mother standing before her, and she whimpered. No. No, no… She shook her head as her eyes flooded again. This can’t be real. I went to Greece. I watched Henry shoot Masalis and his daughter. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she made eye contact with her mom, whose brow creased with concern. This can’t be real, she repeated, choking on the words.

Theresa knelt and rested her hands on Sam’s knees as she peered into her face. Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

No… she sobbed. Please, God, make this nightmare stop. And she closed her eyes again as fresh tears fell.

Sam? Two strong hands gripped her shoulders.

Not now, Daddy. Please. I can’t—

Sam? One of the hands moved to her cheek. Wake up, please.

Ben’s voice tormented her, reaching into her chest and squeezing her heart, taking her breath away.

Ben… she sobbed.

And abruptly, the firm hands lifted her. Sam!

She gasped and opened her eyes and saw Ben, his golden eyes wide as his hands squeezed her shoulders. Ben?

I think you were having a bad dream. He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs.

His touch ignited her flesh, and she grabbed his hands, then touched his face and his chest and shoulders. Ben? She dared to smile and pushed her body into his, kissing him deeply, feeling the electric surge she always felt when he kissed her. She whimpered with relief as she collapsed against him, pressing her head onto his shoulder. Thank God. You’re alive.

Am I not supposed to be? he asked with a chuckle.

Pulling back, she gazed at his face; his grin made her laugh. Shut up. Yes, you’re supposed to be alive. With a sigh, she touched his chest again, where he had been shot in the nightmare. His heart was beating, strong and pure. She looked at his face as if for the first time; her cheeks flushed as she studied his handsome features. What day is it?

He brushed his thumb along her jaw. Friday. Very early. Do you want to talk about the dream?

Together, they laid down, resting their heads on their pillows. She nestled close to him and took a deep breath through her nose, smelling him, unable to get enough of him. It was the furthest thing possible from a dream.

Stroking the skin on her forearm, he yawned. Tell me about it; it’ll help you get it out of your head.

She nuzzled her head under his chin and felt his fingers in her hair, which made her smile. She then described the events of the dream, sharing her dismay at how her mind could conjure something so terrible.

After kissing her forehead, he held her tight against his body. It’s alright. I’m not dead. You’re with me and in a few hours we’ll be at the airport and on our way to New Orleans.

His solid presence soothed her frazzled nerves. She closed her eyes and sighed.

He lifted her chin to bring her lips to meet his, then closed his eyes and kissed her softly. A sly grin brightened his face. You totally called me ‘Daddy’, he said, waggling his eyebrows.

She threw her head back and laughed, then poked him in his ticklish rib and laughed again when he squirmed and made a noise not all that dissimilar from the Pillsbury Dough-Boy. Sam tried and failed to suppress a yawn, recognizing that he was also tired. Let’s go back to sleep; it will be morning soon and we have a plane to catch.

As you wish.

Chapter 4

Theresa and Everett greeted Ben and Sam at the baggage carousel with big hugs and a firm handshake, in the case of Ben and Everett. They talked as they waited for the bags, catching up on the past few weeks.

I’ve got a reservation at the clay pigeon course tomorrow at 9 a.m. Are y’all gonna be ready? Everett asked.

Yes, sir. I brought two of my shotguns, Ben replied.

Yes, he was ecstatic when he pulled them out earlier this week. Sam grinned, remembering Tuesday night when he took them from their hiding spot with much enthusiasm.

Well, alright then. Everett’s blue eyes smiled. Did you bring a cleaning kit? Or do you need to borrow my tools?

Actually, yes, sir…if you don’t mind me borrowing your tools. I didn’t have time to clean them. Work has been pretty busy.

Everett nodded once. You got it. Sounds like we’ll be taking over the dining room table tonight, darlin’, Everett said to Theresa.

That’s fine by me. Sam and I will drink some wine on the back porch.

Oh! Sam laughed. Yes, after Mama and I go shop for some wine that won’t give me a hangover. She raised an eyebrow at her mother.

There’s nothin’ wrong with my wine, baby girl, Theresa responded, mirroring Sam’s raised eyebrow.

I disagree, Mama. Sam chuckled.

The baggage carousel started moving, and within minutes, they had their bags and Ben’s shotgun cases and set off in the direction where Everett parked. They made it to the blue F-150 and slid the shotgun cases and bags into the bed of the pickup. Theresa surrendered the front seat to Ben as they all crawled inside and drove to the house on Patton Street.

At the house, after dropping his bag in the spare bedroom, Ben followed Sam to her room with her small suitcase. She thanked him and craned her neck to kiss him. He pulled her close with his hands on her waist and kissed her back.

Sam took a deep breath through her nose, feeling intoxicated by his scent. Does everyone else notice how good he smells, or is it just me? I was thinking…would you like to go out later tonight? We can grab dinner, then walk around the French Quarter and I can tell you stories about some places there.

Yeah; let’s do it. He touched her chin and grinned. We can get a couple of hurricanes and pretend to be tourists.

Sam laughed. I like the way you think. Now I’m going to take Mama to the store to buy some wine. She led him from her room to the dining room, hand in hand. Everett was laying two large towels on the table, followed by the bottle of scotch from his desk and a couple of tumblers. He leaned over and picked up a small case Sam recognized as his cleaning kit and set it in the middle of the table. I thought we could divide and conquer, if you don’t mind someone else cleaning one of your guns.

Ben picked up one of the cases and set it on the table. That sounds good to me. He grinned as he opened the case and pulled out the gun from within, setting it on the towel in front of Everett.

They spent a few minutes looking at Ben’s guns, one of which was an antique gun his great-grandfather had shot in competitions in the UK before he’d been conscripted into the army for World War I. Ben described the other gun as a standard competition-grade gun, but her dad’s reaction when he saw it indicated that Ben was downplaying it.

Holy shit, Ben. This is a Krieghoff…what, a K-80? Everett turned to Sam. "Just a standard competition-grade gun, my ass. He looked back at Ben. You go big or go home, don’tcha?"

Ben laughed. I guess I have really high standards. He glanced sideways at Sam.

I’ll say, Everett replied, returning to the other side of the table and pouring scotch in the glasses, handing one to Ben. Let’s get started, shall we?

Sam chuckled at the sight of them, glad they had a common interest to bond over. She sidled close to Ben. I’ll be back in a little while; then we can plan our night out, okay?

Sounds good. He kissed her on the forehead. See you soon.

Bye, Daddy, she said, stepping over to Everett’s side of the table and kissed him on the cheek.

Make sure you pick some good stuff for Mama, my cher.

I will. She walked into the living room, finding her mom waiting by the back door.

Come on, baby, Theresa said, holding her keys and her purse.

Once they were driving, Theresa asked, How was the flight?

It was great! He booked first-class tickets for us; I’ve never flown first class before! Sam felt silly for being so excited about it.

What a nice way to start off your birthday, Theresa replied with enthusiasm, then glanced at Sam and touched her hand. How did you sleep last night, baby?

Sam peered at her mom and sighed. Not good, Mama. I had a horrible dream.

Do you wanna talk about it?

Sam grabbed her mother’s hand and re-told the events of the dream that were safe to disclose…primarily that Ben had been killed weeks ago while they were on a work assignment.

When Sam finished summarizing the dream, she pressed a hand to her chest, as if the touch would keep her heart from crumbling. Mama…I’m glad I was with him and he woke me up, because if I had been alone when I woke up, I don’t know what sort of shape I’d be in right now. Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath and pictured Ben’s smile, as the aching in her chest eased. She resolved she would never talk about the dream again; it was too hard.

I’m so sorry. I’m glad you were with him, too. Theresa paused and quickly glanced at Sam before returning her eyes to the road. Baby, have you taken a pregnancy test?

Sam’s eyes almost popped out of her head as she stared at her mother, her face turning about fifty different shades of red. "Mama! I’m not pregnant! she sputtered. Ben and I haven’t even— she cut herself off, then continued, we haven’t done that." Something possessed her to tap on the icon for the fertility app on her phone, noting that her predicted fertile stage started three days ago. And she was once again thankful Ben had pumped the brakes on the night of the auction four weeks back; pregnancy wasn’t even a possibility to explain the dream.

Okay, baby; I’m sorry. I just assumed… Her mother’s voice trailed off and Sam noted a flush on her cheeks. I’m sorry, she repeated. I remember how things were for you after Jason. I should have known better.

Sam took a breath and set her phone down. It’s alright, Mama. I’m not going to lie…we’ve had moments when… she stopped, changing her mind about what she wanted to say. Ben is a hard man to resist, she said with a small smile, but he’s been respectful of me. We both have reasons to wait.

Theresa kept her eyes on the road as she murmured, Hard to resist, indeed.

Sam noted the grin on her mother’s face, and she laughed. "You do have a crush on him, don’t you?" She remembered her mother acting like a shy teenager when she’d first met Ben last month.

Oh, darlin’…don’t you worry. She winked and said, Your daddy is all the man I need.

"Mom!" Sam slapped a hand to her red face, involuntarily remembering her mom saying that she and her dad had an exciting sex life.

Sorry, baby. Theresa laughed. I only mentioned pregnancy because I remember having some vivid, intense dreams when I was pregnant with you.

Neither Sam nor Theresa spoke for the rest of the drive; Sam’s mind was far too busy to speak. She remembered the dream she’d had about the twins, and the cycle chart she and Ben were using in the dream. Her doctor had been suggesting for years that she learn how to chart her cycles, but she hadn’t thought it was necessary, since she was purposely single and not looking to mingle.

Damn, I wish I understood it all a little better. That app can only tell me so much.

She navigated to her doctor’s website and scheduled an appointment through the online portal. Thankfully, they had an opening next week on Wednesday at 10 a.m. She took the slot as Theresa pulled into a parking spot at the wine store.

Let’s go buy some wine, Theresa chirped.

Chapter 5

Ben and Everett had finished cleaning the guns and were on the couch watching the pre-game commentary for a St. Louis Cardinals game when Sam and Theresa returned.

Ben followed Sam into the kitchen as she passed through the living room with the wine haul. Can I help you with that? he asked, feeling hazy.

How much scotch have you had? She grinned.

Uh, two—three glasses. Full ones, he slurred, and her grin widened. I think your dad wanted to get me wasted.

Sam laughed, setting the bottle carrier on the counter. Do you still want to go out tonight, or do you need a rain check?

I’ll be fine in an hour and after a cup of coffee, he said, touching the small of her back. Your dad invited me to go dove hunting with him in October. He waggled his eyebrows.

"Really? Before he’s seen you shoot? I guess your guns give you some street cred." She smirked as she placed the wine bottles on a rack in the pantry.

Don’t you worry about my shooting skills. You’ll see tomorrow during our little competition. He grinned as he picked up the bottle of bubbly wine she’d bought and put it in the refrigerator.

Oh yeah! I almost forgot this Cajun girl was gonna whip this Boston boy’s ass in competition. She turned to face him, her lips tilting irresistibly.

We’ll see, sweetheart. But the word came out ‘sweet-haht’ as he embellished his speech with the Boston accent he had surprised her with a time or two.

What are the stakes? She turned to face him with her hands on her hips.

He peered down at her and was glad she asked, because it gave him an idea. You tell me.