First dance, be damned. Jon bit back a curse and wrapped an arm around Ali to hold her upright. “We’re going to the hospital.”
“Okay.”
Her agreement threw him off balance. “Okay? You’re not going to fight me?”
“No, because I think my water just broke.”
Now that the moment was upon him, he was afraid he might collapse right alongside her. Hell of a lot of help he’d be, laid out on the ground as she went into labor.
“What’s wrong?” Ashley was next to them in seconds, bending low and trying to see Ali’s face.
Somewhere from deep within the chaotic mess his mind had become Jon remembered something. Brody’s girlfriend was a nurse.
“Her water broke.”
“All right. It’s going to be fine. Just breathe, Ali. Slowly.” As Ashley became the calming force among them, a crowd formed. Soon it included the bride and groom.
“Oh my God. Are you all right?” Darci ignored the fact she was in white and squatted down with the rest of them on the grass.
Ali let out a short laugh. “Would you hate me very much if I had to leave?”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s in labor,” Ashley answered Darci’s question.
Chris’s eyes grew wide. “Jesus. You gotta get to the hospital. Do you need an ambulance?”
“I don’t know. Do we?” Jon asked Ashley, the only one who really knew what to do.
“How close are the pains?” Ashley asked Ali.
“I had one before the ceremony started and one just now.”
Ashley turned to Jon. “How far is the hospital?”
“Ten minutes. Five the way I’m gonna drive.”
She smiled. “No need. You should have plenty of time.”
The crowd thickened. Chris dispatched Brody and Rick to wrangle the guests and move them farther away. Former teammates Thom, Grant and Rocky pushed closer offering to help, to carry Ali if needed.
Meanwhile Zane had his cell out offering to get an ambulance, or a chopper if needed.
It was getting overwhelming for Jon, and he was used to chaotic pressure. He could only imagine what Ali was feeling.
But his wife was strong. Ali turned to him. “Help me stand.”
He nodded and helped her up.
She blew out a breath and squeezed Jon’s hand. “I’m okay to get to the truck. Are you sure you can drive?”
A valid question, he supposed, given his panic just a few minutes ago, but he was better now. “Of course, I can drive. I’m not the one having a baby.”
She tipped her head and turned toward Darci and Ashley. “You go back to the guests. We’re going to the hospital. We’ll call you when we have news.”
Darci looked a bit shell shocked. “But—”
“I’m good. Really. Don’t make me more upset that I ruined your wedding day. You have to do what I say. I’m in labor.”
Jon looked to Ashley, hesitant to leave his one connection to a medical professional at a time like this.
She smiled. “It’s gonna be fine. Call Brody’s phone if you need to. I’ll stay right there next to him.”
“Thank you.” Jon turned his dazed gaze from Ashley to Chris and Darci. “I’m so sorry. We have to go. We’ll call as soon—”
“Jon. Go.” Chris grabbed Jon’s shoulder and physically turned him toward the parking lot.
He forced himself to walk at Ali’s pace, even though he would have been happier picking her up and sprinting for the vehicle.
When they finally reached the truck and she had to struggle to get into the high cab, he cursed himself for not taking her car. It would have been so much more comfortable for her.
Too late for regrets.
After running around the front end, he climbed into the driver’s seat, shaking as he shoved the key into the ignition. He glanced across at Ali. If anything happened to this woman he didn’t know what he’d do.
He cut off that thought and asked, “You okay?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Are you okay?”
He dropped his gaze to her belly and then brought it back up to the face of the woman he would love until the day he died. “No, but I will be.”
~ * ~
Birth Announcement
Jon and Alison Rudnick of Virginia Beach, Virginia, announce the birth of their son, James Matthew Rudnick, born October 22, 2016.
~ * ~
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Rescued by a Hot SEAL
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RESCUED BY A HOT SEAL
He’s a SEAL. She’s the woman his team was sent to rescue.
Navy commander Grant Milton was well prepared to fight Somali kidnappers to save American aid worker Jennifer Anderson. What he wasn’t ready for were his feelings for her afterward.
Enjoy this Sneak Peek into
Rescued by a Hot SEAL
Jennifer tried to lick her cracked lips, but fever and lack of adequate water had long ago made her mouth dry.
She lifted her head and tried to sit up. The resulting wave of dizziness from that effort, in addition to the headache that was her constant companion now, made her feel worse.
Giving up, she flopped back to the hard ground beneath her, the filthy, scratchy blanket that covered her slim comfort.
Comfort. She’d long forgotten what that felt like. What normal felt like . . .
“We’re going to die here.” Adam’s voice, low and scratchy, came to her through the darkness. His soft Dutch accent that she’d enjoyed listening to before they’d been taken didn’t soften the harsh reality of the words.
As she lay staring at the stars that shone extra brightly in the moonless sky, she said, “I know.”
If she hadn’t been so dehydrated, she could cry. Instead, she just shook—from the infection that racked her body, from the chill of the damp clothes stuck to her skin, from the hysteria she hovered just at the edge of.
Her coworker smothered a curse. “I’m sorry, Jen. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s the truth.”
Maybe speaking it aloud would bring death sooner. Jen considered that.
Did she want to die?
Her first thought when they’d been faced with the men who’d intercepted their car with AK-47s and shouted threats in a language she didn’t understand had been that at thirty-one she was too young to die.
Adam was older. At least he’d had a chance at life. A career and then a retirement that allowed him to pursue charity work. A wife. Kids he’d seen graduate and marry.
Jen had none of that. If—when—she died she’d leave a mother and father and sister who would no doubt mourn for her, but not much else.
She’d never get to transform the scribbles in her journal into that memoir she’d planned to write when she got home from this trip.
But compared to the pain that every second brought to her now, she had to think yes. She was done. Death would be preferable to life as it was now after three months of captivity—three months if their crude count was close to accurate. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure of anything any more.
Noise, unfamiliar, distinguishable from the usual sounds, made her wonder what it could be. Not wonder enough to lift her head to look though.
It was too dark to see anyway. And she had to believe that her captors would protect her from being mauled by any wild animals. She was too valuable for them to let die. That would cost them any hope of a ranso
m.
That the kidnappers still had hope after all this time was pretty amazing. She’d given up hope long ago.
Her thoughts on the mysterious noise would have ended there if the men of the camp hadn’t reacted to it so strongly. The guard closest to them sat up and grabbed his gun. She heard others moving and one shout.
Jen opened her mouth to ask Adam if he had heard the sound when the world exploded around her. Her question was replaced by her own scream as rapid gunfire seemed to come from all sides with her in the middle.
She pulled the blanket up and shielded her head with her arms.
This was it. She’d wished for death and here it was. Surprisingly not at the hands of her kidnappers, or from the elements she’d been ravaged by, or the infection she’d fallen victim to.
This was worse.
Now she’d be taken by whatever group was attacking their camp. Some warring faction who would kill her captors, take her and then pass her around to be used by the fighters. A war prize.
If she were lucky she’d die in the firefight before any of that. She couldn’t count on that. So far, her luck had been severely lacking.
As she prayed for God to put an end to her misery, the gunfire stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
As loud and horrifying as the firefight had been, the silence was worse. It allowed her to hear the footsteps pounding toward her.
Still cradling her head she struggled to not breathe, to not make a sound.
It was dark. Maybe they wouldn’t see her. Or would think she was one of the dead.
Strong hands gripped her through the blanket, searching until they finally locating her arm. They pulled her upright as she screamed, struggling and fighting for her life.
Maybe she wasn’t ready to die just yet. Her mind might have given up on her, but her fight or flight instinct was still strong.
“Jennifer! Jennifer Anderson.” Whoever held her, knew her name. He said it as he continued to hold her in an unbreakable grip.
She stopped struggling. As the panic resided enough for her brain to process things, she realized the deep male voice had sounded distinctly American. Why were there Americans here? And shooting?
Her fuzzy reasoning couldn’t comprehend it. “You’re American?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re with the United States military. We’re here to bring you home.”
The military was here for her, an aid worker of no value to anyone but her family?
In spite of her dehydration, the tears spilled out.
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ROMANCED BY A SEAL
Cat Johnson
Copyright © 2016 by CAT JOHNSON
All Rights Reserved
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