Chapter Seventy

Abbey sat on the staircase of the little gray house as she watched the buzz of activity in the living room.  She didn’t want to interrupt or get in the way.  Her husband’s fate was in these men’s hands.

It gave her time to reflect.  The little abnormalities she found in Sloan’s life suddenly made sense.  Like the jet.  The jet belonged to Sloan.  His name was on the title.  Had they flown into Belfast it would have sabotaged what was supposed to be a covert trip in and out of Northern Ireland.  It didn’t matter though.  Abbey and her sour stomach blew their cover.

There were still a few things she didn’t understand.

“How are you doing?”

Abbey’s head shot up finding Gordon leaning on the banister.

“I’m alright.  Gordon?”


“I get it that Sloan said his life was in danger.  Why is mine?”

Gordon rubbed his chin as he thought.  “There are many people who would like to see Sloan dead.  There are even more who want to utilize his “talent”.  Sloan had no weakness to exploit.  That is, until he met you.  These people have no conscience and would not hesitate to hurt, even kill you to make him bend to their will.”

Abbey felt the hot rush of tears fill her eyes.  She led him into this mess.  She blinked frantic to stop them.

“You aren’t his chauffer, are you?” Abbey murmured.

“No, I am his handler.  When it was imperative to get Sloan out of Ireland, the IRA didn’t deem it wise to send a teenage bomber loose in Europe.  I was chosen to accompany him, to keep him out of trouble.”

“But you are so close.”

“Aye.  In my heart Sloan is my son.”

Abbey buried her face in her hands as she sobbed.  “I am so sorry to get him into this.”

Gordon knelt beside her as he rubbed her shoulder.  “You are not to blame, Abigail.  Sloan knew the risks.”

Abbey gulped a few deep breaths as she wiped her tears away.  “And Robert and Bartholomew?”

“For lack of a better term, they are bodyguards.  They were originally hired after an attempt on Sloan’s life.  But in reality we are brothers.  We are family.”  Gordon gazed at her as he smiled.  “All five of us are family.”


Abbey and Gordon turned at the voice.  Maggie stood in the front doorway, a piece of paper clenched in her fist.  Her wide eyed look was filled with disbelief.

“What do you mean six?” Abbey asked.

“Abbey, when was your last cycle?” Maggie pressed.

Abbey thought as she organized dates in her mind.  Her brow creased confused.  “I don’t remember when my last period was.  Why?”

Maggie stretched her hand holding the piece of paper out to Abbey.  “Abbey, you’re pregnant.”

Abbey shook her head.  “I can’t be.  Sloan always used protection.  He never…”

Then it struck her.  Memories of the club restroom filled Abbey’s mind.  She pressed her hands to her gaping mouth.  The sudden shock at Maggie’s news twisted her stomach.  Without a word she dashed for the bathroom.


About triciaandersen

I am the author and illustrator of the children's book "The Peculiar Princess". I am also the author of two adult fantasy romance novels, "The Sorceress of Savon" and "The Woodcutter King of Muladin". Along with being an author I am married to a wonderful guy and have three beautiful children. I coach youth track and field, sew and chase my children around to their various activities.

Posted on July 22, 2012, in author, books, fiction, novel, romance, story, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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