Hero’s Baby Read online Aubrey Wright

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance Tags Authors:
Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Hero's Baby

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Aubrey Wright

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B084P6TQN1
Book Information:

She never told me we had a kid...
And for good reason. When I returned from war, I was a fu@king savage.
It all started with a note from a kid I'd never met. He claims to be my son, from the only woman I'd ever loved. The woman who gave me her virginity and her heart.
But war has a way of turning hearts to stone. And this woman deserves better than the likes of me.
Want me to hunt down a bad guy? Roger. Want me to be a father? Yikes.
But when I see little mama for the first time. Walking hand in hand with my boy... My heart does a backflip.
The past hasn't been kind. The future, uncertain. I have two weeks before I need to leave again. Can I really come home and play Daddy?
Books by Author:

Aubrey Wright



Chapter One

Avery

Panic. It sweeps through me and nearly knocks me off my feet.

One second, Christopher’s right beside me, his little hand in mine. But the next thing I know, he’s peeling away and running off. Something’s caught his attention. I lose sight of him as a crowd of museumgoers cuts me off.

“Christopher! Christopher, come back.”

I struggle to chase after him. The museum’s packed with visitors today because school’s out for the summer. Science camps and families are out in full swing. Parents and their children walk about leisurely, unaware that they’re obstacles in my path.

The Seattle Museum of Natural History is bustling with life and sound. There’s a group of kids crowded around one of the dinosaur exhibits. There are long lines of hungry guests waiting to order from the museum’s food court, people spilling out into the main lobby entrance because the queues are so long. There’s another large group in front of the ticket booth directly next to the front entrance, gathered together with no sense of organization whatsoever.

And they’re all in my way.

I accidentally elbow a woman in the arm as I squeeze past her. She gives me a dirty glare, but I keep pushing forward.

“Christopher?”

My son’s small for an eleven-year-old, so it’s no wonder I’ve lost him in the crowd so easily. He knows better than to run off by himself. At the very least, Christopher knows that he needs to tell me where he’s going if he wants to visit someplace alone. What’s caught his eye to have him running off is beyond me.

“Christopher?” I try again.

I’m getting desperate.

I’ve got a general idea as to which direction he’s gone, but the museum is massive. There’s no telling if we’re even in the same part of the building anymore.

My heart thunders in my chest, my pulse so strong I can feel each beat in my fingertips. I hold my breath like it’s somehow going to sharpen my eyesight, looking around for any sign of Christopher.

I anxiously reach into my purse and pull out my phone to call him. Much to my relief, he answers almost immediately.

“Hi, Mom!”

“Christopher, where are you?”

“I’m outside.”

“Outside?” I weave in and out to avoid people entering the building. “Why are you outside, honey?”

“Hurry, Mom. Come quick!” Without an explanation, Christopher hangs up.

I squint against the hot noonday sun as I step out. The air’s a bit humid, moisture sticking to my skin as sunrays beat down on the top of my head. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the change in brightness.

There’s a little plaza in front of the museum with a fountain at its center and stone benches placed around that to give tourists a perfect selfie opportunity. It’s such a lovely day, but it’s impossible for me to enjoy it what with all of the panic that’s building inside my chest.

I look around frantically, seconds away from screaming his name at the top of my lungs. If it causes a scene, so be it.

Just past the misty spray of the fountain, I catch a glimpse of Christopher’s white and green striped shirt and a tuft of his dark brown hair sticking out of the Mariner’s cap Mel got him a couple months back.

He’s standing on the sidewalk, a foot away from the edge of the curb. Parked in front of him is a flashy red Mustang with a black racing stripe painted over its hood and roof.

As I approach, I realize that the driver’s side window is rolled down.

Christopher’s talking to the person inside.

Alarms blare in the back of my mind.

Stranger danger! Stranger danger!

I pick up my pace and rush over, taking Christopher’s hand and pulling him away. I crouch down so that I’m at eye-level with his deep, dark brown eyes. He looks perfectly fine, not a scratch on him, but this does little to calm my nerves.

“Honey, what are you doing?” I ask hurriedly.

I try not to raise my voice, but it’s hard to stay in control with all the dread that’s rising from my guts into my chest. “What have I told you about talking to someone you don’t know?”

“It’s OK, Mom. I’m all right.”

I sigh, anxiously smoothing out the front of Christopher’s shirt. There aren’t any wrinkles, but it makes me feel a little better.

“No, it’s not OK. Please don’t run away like that, honey,” I say. “It’s very busy here. What if somebody snatches you? I was really worried.”

Christopher casts his gaze down to the pavement. “I’m sorry. I wanted to see someone.”

“See someone? What are you talking about, honey?”

Behind us, the driver of the Mustang steps out and closes the door behind him with a soft thud. The first thing I notice are his shoes—polished black leather dress shoes that probably cost triple my rent. He’s got nice long legs and big arms, hidden beneath the expensive fabric of a dashing custom-tailored suit.

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