Sex, Vows & Babies: Wedding with a Baby Bump (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  Dear Readers

  Chapter Four

  Sex, Vows & Babies

  Acknowledgements

  More From Heather Hiestand

  About the Author

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Rochelle Paige Popovic and Elle Christensen. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Sex, Vows & Babies remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Rochelle Paige Popovic and Elle Christensen, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  WEDDING WITH A BABY BUMP

  A Kindle Worlds Novella

  Based on Fiona Davenport’s Sex, Vows, & Babies Series

  Written by

  Heather Hiestand

  www.heatherhiestand.com

  Amazon Author Page | Newsletter

  Table of Contents

  Dear Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  Sex, Vows & Babies

  Acknowledgements

  More From Heather Hiestand

  About the Author

  Dear Readers

  Welcome to the Sex, Vows & Babies Kindle World! In this combination of my Sex & Vows and Yeah, Baby series, we’ll bring you new books by some truly amazing authors. From sexy stories of married couples fighting against outside forces to keep their happily ever after, to unexpected pregnancies that lead to forever afters… the Sex, Vows & Babies world is full of over the top alphas, sassy heroines, insta-love, wedding bells, and growing families. Although the wide cast of characters in both series have managed to find love, there’s plenty more out there who could use Sex, Vows & Babies in their lives—like the couple in this story!

  If you’re familiar with the Yeah, Baby and Sex & Vows series, you’ll see a familiar face (or more) in this story. I am so excited this author agreed to bring their storytelling talent to the Sex, Vows & Babies Kindle World! However, please keep in mind that this book is entirely the work of the author, and I didn’t have any part in the process of writing this book.

  For more about the world, stop by the Sex, Vows, & Babies website: http://www.fionadavenport.com/kindle-worlds/.

  Happy reading!

  Fiona Davenport

  (Elle Christensen & Rochelle Paige)

  Chapter One

  Twilight descended early along the Washington–Oregon border in late November. At barely five o’clock, Elias Nader could only see a vague outline of the log cabin–style building ahead of him. Tires crunched against gravel as he pulled his rented Dodge Ram alongside a beat-up white Ford 150 and parked.

  His liaison at the local FBI office in Vancouver, Dale Wood, had texted to say he’d turn up about five-thirty, but Elias had already been on the road from the Portland airport and decided to head directly to their meeting place—The Stan Pub, outside of Woodland, WA.

  Elias zipped up his leather jacket and then jumped down from the cab. Pain shot through his bad leg. He winced and grabbed at it, using his considerable strength to massage out the spasm. The bullet had torn through muscle, not bone, a minor injury, really, but he hadn’t had time to shake it off yet. Carla McLean, his handler, had met him just as he checked out of the hospital in Washington D.C. yesterday. When the orderly had wheeled him out, instead of the town car he’d ordered, she’d been waiting for him in an expensive two-seater. Then the tall, dark-haired stunner had given him this assignment. Instead of a few days of R&R followed by a return ticket to Jerusalem, he’d been on a cross-country flight less than twenty-four hours later.

  Martin, their resident tech genius, had sent along a new gadget for him to use. Elias limped over to the other side of the cab and opened the glove box. Inside was a case with a pair of brown-lensed sunglasses. All he needed to do to take pictures was adjust the left side of the frames. The photos would be uploaded to a CIA/FBI joint database of prospective domestic terrorists, both with international ties and those acting alone. He slid the shades over his eyes and slammed the door shut.

  The Stan Pub appeared to be a sleepy place. He counted eight trucks, two SUVs, and one beat-up old sedan in the parking area. A couple of other vehicles were parked off to the side toward the back of the building. Employees, probably. Ahead of him, the porch lit up as another vehicle turned in. Elias found the break between split log rails and went up the porch steps before pushing open the door.

  Inside, he recognized Cole Swindell on the jukebox, courtesy of his sister giving him a new iPod with all the country hits of the year on it for his birthday, and the scents of cheap cigars, marijuana, spilled beer, and cologne in the air. He moved straight to the bar. The best camouflage in a place like this was a beer bottle. The second best was the Mariners ball cap he’d picked up at an airport shop then stomped on a few times in the rental parking lot to make it look lived in.

  Though the space behind the bar was empty, he saw a swinging door push forward as someone came through. “What will you have?” called a young female voice.

  The bartender smiled engagingly as she reached him. Elias, too thunderstruck to respond immediately, catalogued the honey brown hair curled over her shoulders and the large, round breasts decorated with the wavy ends of her locks. Those tits were almost too large for her body frame, but were counterbalanced by wide hips flaring from a tiny waist. Her jeans were low rise with a ribbed white tank tucked in. Her belt was constructed out of ivory seashells, and she had tiny shells dangling from her earlobes as well.

  “Shelly?” he guessed.

  She did an adorable little double take, then recovered herself and grinned at him. “No, Angela. Angela Stan, of the, you know, Stan family.” She pointed above herself, to where an old wood burned “Stan Pub” sign hung. Beneath the sign was a mirrored wall, densely covered with shelves of liquors.

  Nader. Shelly Nader, some fierce voice said inside him. “Honey, you’re going to have to change that name, and I’m the one to change it for you.”

  “What?” she said with a giggle. “That’s a new one.”

  “I’m not kidding,” he said. “But I’ll settle for a Blue Moon until you’re done with your shift and we can start our life together.”

  “Oh, shut the front door,” she said good-naturedly, the shells below her earlobes shimmying around her cheeks as she reached under the bar to grab his beer. She slapped a coaster down in front of him with practiced movements then placed a bottle directly in the center.

  He checked out her hands. Square, manicured nails with pale pink polish, no rings. Good. He wouldn’t have to get rid of a husband or a fiancé. Because one thing he knew: this girl was his.

  He leaned forward and flicked the small silver sand-dollar necklace resting against the creamy skin of her throat. His cock jumped as the medallion bounced and he got a look down her cleavage. “Pretty. Who gave it to you?”

  She glanced at him quizzically, her eyes narrowing. “My mother, I think. High school graduation present.”

  “Suits you.” His gaze moved swiftly up and down. The breasts were real, the personality unpolished.

  “Thanks. My mother has good taste.” She open
ed his bottle for him and discarded the cap.

  “I believe it.”

  “What brings you here? On your way to explore Mount St. Helens? Go hiking or something? Or did you just pull off the freeway short of Wal-Mart?”

  He chuckled. “No, Shelly. Just meeting a friend.”

  “It’s Angela, remember?”

  “Shelly,” he said. “I like it better. You aren’t that angelic, right?”

  Her lips curled into an adorable pout. “What if I only wore shells today? Maybe it’s not my thing.”

  He winked at her. “Your jeans have permanent grooves where your shell belt has shaped the fabric. I noticed the skin under your necklace is pale compared to the skin around it. You wear that necklace every day.”

  She giggled. “Busted.” Her eyes drifted over his shoulder as the door opened and closed.

  Elias turned casually, lifting his beer to his lips. Over on the right, a couple of men in John Deere caps played darts. An old man sat hunched over a table near the entrance, working on a crossword puzzle. The man at the door lifted his chin in Elias’s direction and walked toward him. A bit shorter than the norm, about five feet seven inches, he had sandy hair flopped over his skull from a side part, and protuberant cheeks, though he wasn’t overweight.

  “Nader,” the stranger said with a nod.

  “My man,” Elias said, faking an acquaintance. “How you doing, Dale?”

  “Can’t complain,” he said, exposing large, rabbit-like front teeth. “Feels good to get out of the office for a few hours.”

  Elias flexed his shoulders, pulling his shoulder blades down the sides of his spine. “Know what you mean. I spent all afternoon cramped into the middle seat of an airplane.”

  “Where did you come in from?” Shelly asked behind him.

  He’d still been aware of her presence, but found it odd that a bartender would mix herself into a customer’s conversation. Family bar. He supposed it had different rules. “DC, honey. Long flight.”

  She worried her plump lower lip between her perfect teeth. “I’ve never been there.”

  Dale pointed to one of a trio of tall tables, barstools underneath, on the opposite side of the pub from the dart players. “Rather stand at one of those while we catch up? I wouldn’t mind.”

  Elias nodded. While he didn’t want to leave this stunning girl, he had work to do. “Works for me. I’m drinking Blue Moon. Sound good?”

  “Sure.” Dale glanced up at Shelly, who was taller than he was. “Got any of the holiday ales left?”

  “I’ll check in the storeroom,” she said. “Back in a minute.”

  She turned around, and Elias’s gaze followed her swinging hips, a perfect upside down heart under the molded jeans.

  “God bless America,” Dale said.

  Elias heard a growl and realized it came from him. Dale raised his sandy blond eyebrows. Elias just sneered defiantly and picked up his beer again, then limped over to the table.

  “What’s wrong?” Dale asked. “I guess that was a moan of pain I just heard, huh?”

  “Fresh from a hospital bed to the airplane,” Elias said, not admitting the truth. “Leg hasn’t had a chance to stretch out yet.”

  “The bullet went straight through though, right?” Dale pushed a stool out of the way and leaned an arm on the table.

  “That’s why I’m on light duty, instead of flying back to Jerusalem,” Elias said.

  Dale nodded. “Not gonna lie, you’ll be helpful here too, even if the posting isn’t quite as exotic as you’re used to. We’ve got some domestic trouble around here, some faces we want to get into everyone’s databases.”

  “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

  Dale scratched behind his ear and straightened the open collar of his long-sleeved dress shirt. “Rumors are flying about those two playing darts.”

  “Okay.” Elias turned his head, centering his vision on each of the dart players in turn, then fiddled with his glass frames. As each shot was processed, it appeared in the top left of the lens for a quarter second before disappearing.

  Dale looked at him curiously. “You get all of the cool tech, huh?”

  “Too obvious?”

  “I’m trained to observe,” Dale said. “But it’s a bit odd to wear glasses in a bar. You aren’t a rock star.”

  “Shelly didn’t seem to mind.”

  “She’s a trained bartender.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Elias said. “If she was she wouldn’t have piped up during a private conversation between customers.” He wouldn’t mind giving her a spanking for her misbehavior. His thoughts drifted to what she might be wearing under those jeans. A thong? Nothing at all? Was her pretty little pussy, even now, rubbing against the rough denim? Had their flirtation made her wet?

  “Here you go!” Shelly called as she held out a bottle of holiday ale.

  Dale rolled his eyes as he walked back to the bar to get his drink.

  Why hadn’t she brought it over? Intimidated by them, perhaps? Well, he had work to do, but he’d get back on track with her later.

  Elias kept his back to the wall, watching the slowly growing crowd as Dale told him about the area.

  “Lots of people in the hills,” Dale explained. “Religious groups, loners, landowners. All pretty normal, keep to themselves. But of course you have your dissenters, and even though there is no Muslim population to speak of, there is a chronically dissatisfied one, and we’ve seen some activity on social media between some of them and possible terrorist groups.”

  “Anyone do any traveling anywhere suspicious?”

  “No, but lots of guns around here. It’s pretty rural. Not like you need to go to terrorist camp in the Middle East to learn how to use a gun.”

  “So that’s what you’re worried about? An armed local attacking civilian targets?” A waitress came out from the back and started taking orders. Pretty, but she didn’t ring the same bells that Shelly had.

  “That’s usually the way, these days,” Dale said gloomily. “I want these people loaded into the databases so they can be watched, questioned if they come up against any obvious targets or international recruiters.”

  “Fair enough. This bar the epicenter of the local dissenters?”

  “Yes and no. It just so happens that one of the local troublemakers, Kenny Stan, works here.”

  “Member of the family that owns it?”

  “You got it. He’s the brother of that pretty little bartender, in fact. The dart player on the right.”

  Elias glanced at the man with new interest. He had the same honey brown hair as Shelly, though it had decidedly thinned on top. So far, he’d only managed to photograph the man from the side. He had a deep crease down his cheek. Shelly looked to be about twenty-three. This man appeared to be in his early thirties.

  Dale put his finger to his temple. “A half-brother. From their father’s first marriage. Stan is thirty-one to his sister’s twenty-three. General discharge from the US Army seven years ago.”

  Not a spotless military record. “What happened?”

  “Drugs.” Dale’s cheeks flexed.

  “Serious substance abuser?”

  “Had a meth problem, but kicked it. Married after he got out. Wife divorced him a few years ago. She has full custody of their daughter. Police were called to a Back-To-School night last year because his daughter wanted him to leave and he wouldn’t. They’ve moved out of state since.”

  Fueling the rage fire, no doubt. “Doesn’t sound like the ringleader type.”

  “True. He has four or five pals. All your below-average blue-collar citizens. They get drunk, say things in the bars, laugh it off if they are questioned. Anti-female, anti-government.”

  “But not anti-ISIL?”

  Dale pursed his lips. “A certain type of guy thinks Sharia law sounds like a good idea. A certain kind of guy laughs when another guy blows away a bunch of his coworkers, or gay men at a club, or people of a different race at a church.”

  “Lovely,” E
lias said, lifting his beer.

  “So your assignment is to imbed yourself in this community enough to catalog all of the local Kenny Stans. These guys grew up hunting. They have mini-arsenals. And one of them…” Dale paused.

  Elias’s senses pricked. “Yes?”

  “One of the high school buddies, one Connor Blake, is married to a Pakistani immigrant. Mail-order bride. These days you can’t discount a connection, a radicalization, coming through exactly that conduit.”

  “But not this Kenny Stan.”

  “No, but he’s online perusing the ladies. The website his friend used is gone, but there are always others. Some legit, some terrorist fronts, like so much these days. The fool can be parted from his money by any number of charities that are really sending money to the wrong people.”

  “And bringing trouble into the US with imported brides.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is the bride in the database?”

  “No, you’ll need to photograph her, too. Obviously she’s in all kinds of databases, due to immigration, but I would consider her suspicious for our purposes due to the kind of chatter we’re hearing.”

  “Okay.” Elias leaned casually against the wall and lowered the brim of his cap. His gaze went to Shelly. He’d never seen anyone like her. He had to have her, and he was just delusional enough to think that pursuing her would help him with his assignment. “You have any ins into this group?”

  “No, just the location. But you seem to have hit it off with the bartender.”

  You have no idea. “I’ll handle it from here. I’m used to undercover work.”

  “What is your cover going to be?”

  “I didn’t have much time to research before I got on the plane. My girl Carla procured a cougar hunting license for me, so I have some kind of bona fide.”

  “Wrong time of year to do much hunting.”

  “Gotta work with what she came up with. She’s doing more research and will send along any other licenses. Also, she needs to ship me the right sort of weapons. I don’t have any of that.”