Page 99 of Unexpected Complication

Skylar looked at the pictures. “I visited Nova Scotia in my teens. Beautiful. Cold winters, but if you prepare, a great place to hide in the open.” Her hand drifted to her stomach. “A great place to bring up a family.”

I slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s make a plan.”

Six years later

I pulled up the long driveway, getting out of the truck. I drew in deep lungfuls of air, the salty tang of the ocean breeze filling my senses. In all the years we’d been here, I never got tired of the heady scent. The snow and cold wore on my nerves, but the rest of the year made up for it.

We had left Mexico not long after we made our decision. Using the contacts Sean had, we had new identities waiting for us, and we safely arrived in our new home. Not even Frank knew where we were. He didn’t even know we’d planned on disappearing until after it happened. It was better that way—safer for everyone.

We became Cian and Skylar Mackenzie, since her name was never mentioned in any report. She was thrilled, and I was proud to carry her name. Sean did the same, taking Julia’s name, and the small town of Ocean Edge welcomed the Mackenzies and Joneses warmly.

And seven months later, we enthusiastically welcomed our son, Colton Sean Mackenzie, into the world.

We rented a house, and the first week we were there, Sean and I discovered the local bar. It was run-down and failing but housed a treasure trove of nautical items. The owner told us how a newer bar not far outside of town had pushed him to the brink of bankruptcy with its modern décor and large selection of imported beers, which appealed to the tourists.

Sean fell in love, regardless of its state, and once he found out the owner was planning to close it, we bought it. We spent months renovating it, all while keeping the theme intact but adding some modern touches, as well as a top-notch kitchen. The day the doors reopened, The Tides was a huge success with tourists and locals. In the offseason, it became the local watering hole. We spent our days there and in the small, private office over it, hiring locals to run it in the evening.

To this day, Sean and I monitored our past. The small town of Ocean Tide had no idea how well screened every person who walked through the front doors of the bar was, as the computers upstairs worked tirelessly with facial recognition and other programs that we ran—Sean used his computer and hacking expertise constantly. We were both relentless in making sure our family was safe. And in doing so, we ensured the safety of the people in the town as well.

We found a house one day, not far from town, that had been used as a bed-and-breakfast. Right on the ocean, it was perfect for us. Two large halves linked by a common area, which the owners used to use for the customers to relax in. We lived in one half, Sean and Julia in the other, and the middle area was now our family room. Most nights and weekends, we were all in there. The view was spectacular, no matter the season, and it was filled with adults and kids, toys, games, books, and movies—and laughter.

Our lives contained so much laughter now.

Skylar’s watercolors hung in every room of our home and in the bar. The scenes and stories she told in her art sometimes only meant something to us, but everyone who saw her work loved it. We had a small gift shop in the bar that featured her work, and it sold well. They signed by Mac Gyver and labeled as work by a local artist who wished to remain private, and people ate that up. Sklyar preferred the anonymity, and we agreed it was for the best. Still, she loved it every time a painting would sell. Julia’s sea glass creations and shell jewelry were also big hits, with tourists and locals alike.

Although Julia ran the kitchen in the bar, Skylar helped out when needed in the busier times. Her soups were a local favorite, often making Sean and me chuckle with memories. She and Julia also worked on the foundation, which aided countless people monthly—and all done anonymously.

Life was simple here. We worked hard in the summer and fall when the area was busy with tourists, and the rest of the year, we enjoyed the quiet beauty of the region. It was a good life, pretty much perfect, in fact, mostly because of who I shared it with.

Skylar came around the corner, holding our daughter, Raymie. Both of them smiled widely at me, and Raymie reached out her chubby arms so I could swing her into mine and nuzzle her curls. At two years old, she bore a striking resemblance to me, including the red curls and her stubbornness. She was a quiet child, letting her brother talk most of the time. But when she wanted to, she could yak your ear off, and she always made me laugh. I adored her.

Leaning over, I kissed Skylar’s mouth. “Hey, Kitten.”

“Hey. How was your day?”

“Busy.” I grinned. “I had to rough up a customer.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He got lippy. I cuffed him—made a citizen’s arrest.”

“Oh, busy indeed. Some things never change, do they…” She lifted up on her toes, close to my ear. “…fuckwit?”

Turning my head, I brushed my mouth over her ear. “Careful, Kitten, I still have those cuffs. I’ll use them later if you’re lippy.”

“You like it when I’m lippy.”

I smiled against her skin, feeling her slight shiver.

“I do.”

Laying my hand on her slightly rounded stomach, I smiled down at her. “How’s my little one doing today?”

Sklyar smiled. “Good. Making Mommy tired, but good.”

“Ultrasound next week?”

“Yes.”