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Chapter Forty-Six
Josephine
“Turn around,” I scream, yanking on the chopper door. I tug and tug, but the damn thing is locked shut.
Doesn’t stop me from trying again. “Maceo,” I weep stupidly.
Why did Maceo do that? I understand that he wanted me and our boys safe, but there had to be another way.
“Jo,” Punk murmurs, holding me from behind, preventing me from escaping. “We can’t. I’m sorry.”
“No. No!” I yank on the door, sobbing helplessly. “NO! Let me out. Let me the fuck out!”
Tony rips me away from the exit and out of Punk’s embrace. I scream, clawing at Tony’s tight arms lockdown around my body, struggling to break free. “Shush, Little Jo. Calm down.”
Calm down?Calm down!My husband switched places with me and is now in the clutches of a sociopath. “Let me go. We need to turn around. We need to save him.”
Punk gets on his knees in front of me, his face looking tortured and full of pain. “Atlas’s orders were to get you to safety. The rest of the guys are going after him. We’re gonna get him back, Jo. But you need to take it easy. The babies aren’t going to do well with you stressing like this. You have to calm down.”
My head shakes back and forth powerlessly. “Punk, I need him. He won’t do what Esteban wants. And he’ll kill him, Punk. He’ll kill Maceo. I can’t live if something happens to him.”
The tortured look in his blue eyes doubles in intensity. He scoots closer to me, his hands resting on my knees. “We’ll bring him home, Jo.”
The fight leaves my body. I slump against Tony, tears pouring from my eyes. I stare into the face of my brother, knowing he’s right but unable to accept a life without Maceo. “Punk,” I sob. My wails flood the cabin of the chopper.
Punk pulls me from Tank, cradling me against his chest. “I got you, Jo.”
Exhausted, I weep against him for what seems like an eternity. My heart is aching, my stomach sinking while my imagination runs wild with what is happening to my husband and the rest of his crew.
It’s while my head is fueled with macabre scenarios, my stomach twists painfully. I gasp in shock, clutching my abdomen—wetness pools between my legs.
“What the…” Punk shifts me from his lap where his pants have been saturated with liquid.
I stare in horror at my brother. “Punk. The babies are coming.”
* * *
“How far to our destination?” Tony hollers to the pilot.
“Thirty minutes,” he shouts back. “There’s no place near civilization to land any sooner.”
I’m sprawled out on a blanket on the floor of the chopper. Tony sits behind me, holding me upright. Punk is situated between my legs, yanking my jeans and panties off to see how far along I am.
Punk curses. “You’re crowning.”
“Not possible,” I grit through clenched teeth as another contraction rolls through me. It’s way too early for their arrival. I’m only thirty-four weeks along.
My God! My babies, my babies!The stress of everything has induced me.
“Jo, not to sound like a huge asshole, but I’ve seen enough pussies to know what a vadge is supposed to look like. I’m confident what is trying to push out of yours is the head of one of my nephews.”
I scream as a particularly strong contraction rips through my body. I try to fight my body from pushing. “No!”
“Jo, you’ve got to breathe. You have a job to do,” Tony says, worry thick in his voice.
My head shakes as I will myself to resist pushing.
Punk leans over me, grabbing my face in his hands. “It’s time, Jo. We need to get the babies out before you do them or yourself harm.”
