Pushing Debbie's stroller through the busy streets of downtown New Orleans on a late afternoon was no easy feat. Excited that we were going on a road trip, she wouldn't stop babbling, her words still mainly incoherent, driving me crazy.

My wife was craving beignets and not just any beignets. She wanted the ones from Café Du Monde because those were apparently made by a chef with golden hands using golden dough to bring life to what were, in my opinion, ordinary fried fritters.

I would never tell her that though. She wouldn't let me hear the end of it because there was absolutely nothing ordinary about those particular beignets she craved like a cocaine addict.

"Dada, cown." Debbie pointed across the street excitedly.

"Baby, that's a clown. Close enough though. We have to work on those 'L's", I said as I maneuvered the stroller around a busy fruit stand.

"I'm not baby," she told me boldly.

The clown with his purple hair and big red painted lips spotted Debbie and crept slowly toward us. I saw him in my side vision and didn't stop, causing him to run and catch up with us.

"A balloon for the little one, perhaps?" He grinned, looking a lot like the clown from the movie It.

I was a grown man and I couldn't bear to look at him for too long. There was something disturbing in his eyes. I glanced down at Debbie and she didn't look as excited anymore, large hazel eyes bulging in fear and confusion.

"Look what I've got here," the clown said, stepping into the path I intended to take, forcing me to a stop.

I looked around me warily. Big crowds made me uncomfortable and this man wasn't helping.

"Make it quick," I mumbled.

I watched in fascination as he quickly made a flower balloon for Debbie, who was now smiling at him, eager hands stretching forward. The final knot was tied and Debbie grabbed the creation that was made for her.

"Me," she said.

"Yours," I nodded and handed five dollars to the clown so he could leave us alone.

"Bye, cown." Debbie waved as the clown went looking for other susceptible parents to trap.

We made it to Café Du Monde without any more disturbances. The place was packed with loyal customers, but the second I walked in, Ali, a waitress who worked there, made eye contact and waved me over to the counter.

She wore her blonde hair up and her black apron, which she wore over a mini dress, had a light coating of flour on it. Blue eyes twinkled and winked when I reached her. Ali had a mad crush on me, and it was visible now going by her reddened cheeks.

"Nice day to take the baby out," she said, pinning her gorgeous smile on Debbie.

Debbie who was two years old shook her bouncy head of dark curls. "Not baby. I'm not baby."

Ali laughed. "Of course not. You're a big girl." She turned her back to me and started bagging the beignets. "The usual ten?"

"Yes," I answered, "and a café au lait."

She rested the paper bag of beignets on the counter. "So which country are you flying out to next?"

"Milan. For a magazine shoot equivalent to GQ."

"Take me with you." Her voice was sultry and low.

I ran my hand through my hair. "Can't. It's business."

Ali pouted. "That's too bad. All work and no play makes Trystan a dull man."

"My wife doesn't think I'm dull."

"Do you always have to remind me that you're married?" She looked at the wedding band on my finger and rolled her eyes.

I wiggled my eyebrows, causing Debbie to laugh. "I don't want you getting any ideas. I'm married. Happily."

"Doesn't stop me from fantasizing."

"Well damn," I muttered.

"What?"

I cleared my throat and shook my head. "I'll have that coffee now."

She grinned, plump lips curving sexily. "Coming right up. Can't think straight when you're around me."

I waited patiently as she poured the coffee into a cup and then handed it over, her fingers sliding along mine in a caress. Her skin was softer than I expected. Our eyes met and she winked.

I groaned. How did I tell my wife that I hated getting her favorite beignets because a five-foot-tall blonde wouldn't stop hitting on me?

I shouldn't let Ali faze me. I wasn't interested, but damn was she coming on strong. I guess next time I'll just have to stand in line like everyone else.

I folded the stroller and strapped Debbie into the backseat of the car before driving to the outskirts of New Orleans where we lived. I was about two miles away from the house when the sky darkened ominously and it started to rain, hard drops of rain pelting the roof of the car like a B.B. gun.

I gripped the steering wheel, peering through the thick sheet of rain as I slowed the car down. Wide tress flanked us on both sides like rigid soldiers, and because the street lamps had yet to come on, my headlights were the only source of light. There was an eerie aspect to the dull yellow and halo-like light.

"Water." Debbie pointed at the droplets on the car window.

"That's rain, sweetheart."

"Rain?"

I looked at her through the rearview mirror. Her chubby brown cheeks were puffy and her normally bright green eyes appeared dark as she concentrated on the new word she'd just learned.

"Rain," she repeated softly, still mesmerized by the raindrops sluicing down the window.

I smiled. She looked a lot like her mom at that moment. It was the same look Debra had when she was busy painting one of her masterpieces. Oftentimes, she would bite on her inner cheek and angle her head to the side as if that would somehow let her see things from a different perspective. And once she figured it out, she would smile and continue working.

My heart clenched and then pounded, knowing I would be leaving her for three weeks with a curious toddler while she was four months pregnant with our second child.

The pounding of my heart accelerated when I looked up and saw a figure standing in front of the car on the darkened road. My headlights illuminated a woman dressed in a long skirt and white T-shirt as she sprinted to get away.

I pressed hard on the brakes, but not quick enough. I struck the woman and she fell to the ground.

"Shit."

Debbie giggled. "Poop. You poop, Dada."

"Yes, big time," I muttered.

She laughed again. "Eww. Dada, you poop."

How is it this child of mine couldn't sense that we were in danger?

I sat in the car and looked around for anything out of the ordinary. This could be a setup. A common one, and a clever culprit would be able to rob a family blind, sometimes even stealing the car with all their possessions.

And human trafficking was still a thing, I thought warily.

I glanced at my baby girl and swallowed the lump I felt forming at the back of my throat. I was fucking scared. Having a kid had turned me into a chicken. My edges were soft and rounded, choosing to work as a model ninety percent of the time instead of doing private investigator work like I wanted to.

Every Marine bone in my body protested, but I had to remind myself why I was doing this. I had a family now and I vowed to protect them, to provide for them, to love them.

"Daddy loves you, pumpkin."

"Wuv you, Dada, but I want Mama."

"We're going to see Mama."

God, I wanted Mama too. I wanted to bury my nose in her neck and inhale her natural scent mixed with the shea butter lotion she used. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me. I wanted to bury my face between her thighs until my tongue was covered with the taste of her.

So I waited.

The injured woman was lying in front of my tires and I had no intention of flattening her into a pancake by driving over her. She appeared to be alone. I couldn't make out anyone else hiding in the bushes nearby.

When she didn't make any effort to get up, I swore and reversed the car until I could see her clearly in my headlights. The rain had let up a little, but a thick veil of fog was slowly creeping out of the trees.

"Get up, woman."

She stirred as if she'd heard my voice from inside the car, but didn't make any effort to stand up. I long-pressed the horn, the sound loud in the quiet space of the car.

"Aww, ears hurt, Dada."

The woman grabbed her abdomen and appeared to be groaning in pain. And then she moved her hand.

Blood. Everywhere. Her guts were hanging out of her belly and she didn't have enough hands to keep the contents from spilling out.

Without thinking, I released the lock on the doors and hopped out of the car, the sound of my sneakers on the rain slicked road accompanied me as I approached my worst nightmare.

Where was Brian when I needed him? He was a doctor and a damn good one.

I was running toward the woman now. She was going to die in this rain because of me. I had to take her to the hospital. I knelt beside her and shook her shoulders. She looked dazed.

"Stay with me, dammit. Open your eyes! Fuck." I shook her harder.

"Easy dude, my head hurts." Her voice came out groggy and scrambled as if she hadn't used it in a while.

"You need a medic. Brian!"

"Who's Brian? And can you stop shouting? I just want to sleep."

I blinked. Brian had been dead for years now, blown to pieces by an IED in Afghanistan. So why was I calling him?

"Hey. Hey! Look at me," I demanded. "You're very badly injured and I know you might not feel a thing right now, but if I leave you like this, you're going to die. You're losing a lot of blood."

Deep golden eyes flashed open. Her face was long and gaunt, her brown skin faded like old leather. She didn't look older than seventeen, maybe eighteen. Her lips were full and wide, standing out in her thin face.

"I thought I was the crazy one," she muttered as she sat up. "I'm just so tired and drowsy."

"No, don't do that. Your stomach. . . your stomach," I stammered when I noticed the gaping hole from earlier was no longer there.

What the fuck?

I recoiled and fell butt first on the wet road. I pointed at her shirt. "You were bleeding a moment ago. I swear."

But for a small splash of what appeared to be red wine, her white T-shirt was pristine. "Lift your shirt. Let me see."

She smiled shyly. "Want to see my tits? That's going to cost you, Sir."

What in the world was going on?

"What's your name?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"I'm trying to help you," I stressed. "I hit you with my car. I need to know if you're okay."

Her eyes gleamed as she tucked a strand of soaked, straightened hair behind her ears. "I'm not okay."

"Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere." She looked at the car, squinting into the headlights. "My heart hurts. My mind hurts."

I stood up and wiped my wet hands on my jeans. "I'm calling an ambulance."

"No. Don't. I'm not insured and they can't help me."

"But I am, you have nothing to worry about. I need you to stay here while I walk back to the car. Do not follow me." I couldn't believe how quiet Debbie was. She would always cry when she was left alone.

As I walked away, the woman grabbed my hand. "I need money."

I stiffened, every alarm bell going off in my head.

"Please," she begged. "I won't sue you for hitting me. I just need enough money to stay somewhere tonight."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't even know where I am."

"What happened to you?"

"Just give me the money, please."

Desperation laced her voice and she wouldn't meet my gaze. She was uncomfortable asking me for money, I could tell. Something bad had happened to this girl.

I pried her fingers open until she released my arm. "Okay, but on one condition. Do you have a phone?"

She bit her lip. "No."

"I don't always have cash on hand. Need to withdraw some."

She eyed me warily. "How far is the closest ATM?"

"Back that way heading into town. Say about fifteen minutes."

It started to rain again and she shivered. "How much cash do you have now?"

"Twenty bucks."

"I'll take it."

I paused. "Okay, wait here."

"Is there someone in the car? Brian?"

I didn't answer as I turned. I found Debbie asleep in her car seat, snoring softly. Thank God. I threw a blanket over her since I'd left the door open and she was probably cold.

I fished the money out of my wallet and wrote my number and first name down on a piece of paper and made my way back to the woman. She was sitting on the side of the road, arms wrapped around her folded legs. She lifted her head when she sensed my presence.

"Here."

She took the money from me, eyes downcast. "Thank you. You're so kind. How old is your baby?"

I looked back at the car. "She's two."

"The terrible twos. Must be hellish." She laughed, but it was strained. "My name is Coco Ella, but most people just call me Ella."

I raised an eyebrow.

She laughed again, this time it was genuine. "It really is. Don't know what my mother was thinking when she named me that, but I like it though. I like it a lot."

"Take care, Coco. If you need anything, you call me."

She shook her head. "I won't. I'm leaving this place. Going to buy myself a plane ticket to Amsterdam."

But she didn't throw the piece of paper away. She tucked it in her bra and started walking with a purpose in the same direction I was going.

I drove past her and she waved. I felt bad for not offering her a ride, but she was a stranger and I wasn't about to let her into my car with my two-year-old sleeping in the back seat.

My phone rang. It was my wife.

I smiled and picked up, my heart somersaulting in my chest. How could she still have that effect on me?

"Hey, angel," I whispered.

"Where are my beignets, Trystan?" She tried to invoke seriousness in her tone, but I could hear the underlying laughter coming through loud and clear.

"Something happened, but I'm on my way." And then more quietly. "I miss you, baby."

"Well, hurry up. I'm hungry and horny. And how's my baby?"

My body stirred at the thought of her being horny. She couldn't keep her hands off of me lately. This pregnancy was a lot different from the last one. With Debbie, we barely had sex, but this time around, my goodness, her hormones were through the roof, and she wanted me almost every day.

"Trystan? How's Debbie?"

"Sleeping," I said as I pulled up the drive to our house.

"Is that you?" she asked.

"Yes. Can you bring an umbrella for Debbie? Forgot to walk with one."

The front door opened moments later and Debra was standing there with two umbrellas. She approached the car and I got out in the rain, covering Debbie completely with the blanket before lifting her out of the car seat and over my shoulder while her mother covered us.

"The beignets are on the passenger seat. I got myself a coffee but didn't drink it."

"You always drink your coffee. What happened? You're soaked and you didn't sound so good on the phone earlier." She closed the door behind us and took off her raincoat, watching me intently.

I climbed the stairs to Debbie's bedroom and laid her down gently, stripping her out of her jeans and blouse. Her mother handed me pajamas for her to wear and I put them on.

"Are you going to brush her teeth?" Debra asked while putting away Debbie's toys from earlier.

"It's one night. She's not going to get a cavity from one night." I ran my hand through my hair when my wife looked at me like I was crazy. "I'll brush extra tomorrow morning. I promise."

I took my shirt off and unbuttoned my jeans as we walked toward our bedroom. I sat on the couch and removed my prosthetic leg, massaging the stump of my remaining leg. My muscles tended to cramp up whenever it rained.

Debra watched me but didn't say anything. She collected my wet clothes and threw them in the hamper, one hand on her waist as she walked. Her belly was still small at four months, but already she had that nine months pregnant walk, shoulders thrown back, a deep arch in her back.

She wore shorts, showing off her brown, sexy legs, and a shirt that barely covered her belly. I showered quickly and came back out. She was curled up on her side of the bed reading a pregnancy book, a half eaten beignet on the nightstand next to her.

I nudged her legs apart and pulled her shorts down.

"Trystan. . ."

I looked up at her. "I need this, baby."

She closed her eyes and opened her legs for me, allowing me to bury my face in her feminine core. My tongue licked and sucked, savoring her womanly taste. Simply delicious.

She moved her hips, rubbing herself against my face, moaning softly. I loved it when she did that, the sound of her moaning working as a catalyst, catapulting my desire to another level.

I got on my knees and entered her. She was slick and warm, and I felt her clench around my dick. I grabbed her breasts and continued rocking into her, every stroke deeper and harder than the last, slowing down only to kiss her addicting mouth.

She grabbed my hair and cried out when she came. I followed her, my seed spurting out of my body in powerful jets. I collapsed on top of her, breathing harshly. She moaned and I rolled over until she was lying on top.

She kissed my tattooed neck, and then my lips, and sighed. "What's wrong?"

It was a long time before I answered. She was looking at me with serious brown eyes, seeing straight through to my soul. So I told her the truth.

"I think I saw a ghost today."

~ FIN ~