Carson Evolved Ch. 05

Sam moved back to sit next to her husband, pulling his arm into her lap and leaning her head against his shoulder. No sooner had she settled against him than she sat up and said, "Oh!" Excitedly, she pulled Carson's hand to her side. "Your son is working on his muscle tone, I think. Do you feel that?" Carson got a smile on his face as tears filled his eyes. His other wives were further along, and he'd already experienced this moment with each of them. Mara was carrying a little girl, and Mila had twin boys on the way. This was the first time he'd felt his baby kick in Sam's belly, and it touched him just as strongly as the first two had.

He pulled his wife into a big hug and kissed her lips. "I love you, Sam. Thank you for picking me."

With tears in her eyes, she whispered, "Before I met you, it was always you. Thank you for picking me." They sat there, enjoying each other's company silently for a few more minutes before her parents returned.

Alexander looked serious, and Caitlyn looked...shy? Nervous? Sam and Carson both picked up on it and watched them carefully. Taking a seat, Alexander smiled, looked at his wife, and said, "We have an idea."

*****

While Carson and Sam were spending the evening with her parents, the other women in his life were not idle. Helena had exercised her authority as his matriarch to call her daughters, Elsa, and Quinn together. Tilda was included as well, mainly because she would be around the house a lot anyway, but also because she was Carson's head of security and an Orriri woman. She would need to help keep him safe both physically, and from the various threats that would come as a result of his participation in the project.

The four expectant women eschewed alcohol for the sake of their babies. Quinn wasn't much of a drinker, and Tilda claimed duty status, so lemonade and iced tea were popular beverage choices. Helena kicked things off with a warning for Tilda: "We are going to discuss something that is to remain a secret outside of Carson's Pride. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Tilda, simultaneously concerned and intrigued.

With a nod, Helena turned to the group at large. "By now, all of us have experienced Carson's gift..."

Rubbing her belly, Mila interjected, "Oh, we've experienced his 'gift' alright." Her observation was met with giggles from the other expectant mothers. Quinn had experienced that kind of gift already but would need to wait a while to find out just how lasting it might be. Nevertheless, she silently relished the memory of last night, spent in his bed.

"You naughty girl!" chided her mother. "Who raised you to be so brazen?"

Mara laughed and said, "Who indeed?"

Turning back to the group, Helena said, "I meant, his other gift." At that, knowing grins hit the faces of everyone except Tilda. She just looked confused. When Helena saw her face, she clarified. "Tilda, believe it or not, Carson is able to read minds."

"Pssh," she scoffed, thinking that the older woman was making a joke at her expense. Then, looking around and seeing that no one was laughing, her eyebrows went up and she looked back at Helena. "Really?"

Helena nodded, but Tilda remained skeptical. "Like, really, really? You're telling me that Carson can see inside your head?"

Heads bobbed all around. "He talks there, too," offered Elsa.

"Yep," agreed Quinn. "I never would have believed it either, if I hadn't experienced it myself last night."

Mara grinned at her and said, "It sounded like you were doing plenty of vocal communicating, too."

The younger girl grinned and blushed deeply. "I couldn't help it. He was..." She trailed off, her hand waving idly in the air as she searched for the proper word.

"Amazing?" offered Helena.

"Commanding?" suggested Mila.

"Perfect?" asked Elsa.

"All of that and more," Quinn finally said. "I mean, my god, that man is something else. I've never experienced anything like that."

Listening to the other women gush about Carson abilities, as a lover and otherwise, Tilda was forced to reassess the man. There was no doubt that, physically, he tripped her trigger in a big way. If he was that good in bed, maybe she could convince the others to let her borrow him some time; it had been some time since she'd been even halfway satisfied by a man in bed. But, she remained skeptical that he was the one that would father her children.

Bringing the group back on topic, Helena said, "As far as I know, Carson is completely unique in his ability. So let's review: he's gorgeous, he's intelligent, has impeccable character, loves fiercely and loyally, and does it all truly believing that he's not worthy of being called 'special.' Does that about sum him up?" Again, heads bobbed in agreement.

"With all that in mind, I believe that we need to promote his genetics as much as possible. Carson was initially uncomfortable with random hookups, but with his new attitude towards the project, he might be more open now. We all know women, project and otherwise, who are becoming more and more desperate to have children by whatever means they can. You've seen the numbers. The latest estimates are that within five years, 30% of men in this country will be infertile. Those are staggering numbers, and they don't seem to be improving."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Elsa.

Helena smirked. "With most of us, hopefully soon all of us," looking at Quinn, "pregnant, we need to be aggressive in finding new wombs for his babies. Besides, I love him, but I can't take him more than about once a week. Maybe I'm getting old..." The others laughed at her self-deprecating humor, but all agreed that he was a lot to take frequently.

"So, how do we do it?" asked Mara. "I mean, I've got a list of women that I think would be good matches for Carson, but I don't know how many of them are going to just jump into bed with him right off the bat. Orriri women are most likely not going to."

Elsa said, "I think we need to do a couple of things. First, we need to sit him down and explain to him that we want him to do this, that we're okay with it. I haven't known Carson long, but I do know that he is reluctant when he thinks he's taking advantage of anyone or abusing our trust in him." The others murmured their agreement with the sentiment. "The other thing we're going to have to do is get him in situations where he's interacting with women socially."

"He's not a big fan of fundraisers or things like that," said Mara, ruefully. "I made that mistake for a long time."

"I was thinking more like some dance clubs, but mostly the social clubs the project owns. I don't think he realizes how many of the women are there specifically hoping to get pregnant, just because of the class of men that are there. But with Carson's gift? He could literally be the answer to a woman's prayers, with no guilt at all."

Mila smiled and said, "That's a great point, and that's how we need to sell it to Carson. He's more likely to go along if he feels like he's helping women instead of taking advantage of them."

"The final thing I wanted to discuss with you ladies, is something that myself and his wives started thinking about recently. All of you are from golden lines, and as you know, in order to be considered to be the director of Orriri, a person must have ties to seven of the twelve golden lines. Between my daughters and Sam, he has two lines. Elsa is the third, and hopefully, Quinn will be the fourth. Can anyone here think of a reason that Carson shouldn't try to get at least three more 'Lionesses' for his 'Pride?'"

Quinn muttered, "I'd much rather him than someone like Jordan van Heuval. I think someone's trying to set him up that way. They tried to force me to have a baby for him."

"Me too," said Elsa. "My grandmother was pretty adamant that I was going to have a baby with Jordan. She wanted me to marry him."

"Ugh!" exclaimed four other voices at once.

"Yes, 'ugh,'" agreed Elsa.

To this point in the discussion, Tilda had been listening more in the role of head of security, thinking about how to protect him in dance clubs or other public places. When Helena brought up the golden line thing, she started thinking again. I'm from a golden line. Would Carson want me in his Pride? If I knew he was the one, I could definitely get behind supporting this plan. I just don't know...

The discussion continued for some time, as each woman added suggestions of women who might be interested in having Carson's baby from the project and shot down others that were either attached or already pregnant. They all knew Carson wouldn't go for that. Eventually, the meeting broke up and the girls went to bed.

Helena stayed behind, reviewing the meeting and idly rubbing her belly. You Carson, my love, my Master, are about to find out if it's possible to have too much sex. Giggling to herself, she thought, I can't wait to find out.

*****

Carson had more than a few offers to warm his bed Thursday night. He begged off, citing his early morning flight to Europe the next day. That was the main reason, but not the only one. This entire week had been overwhelming. He was still getting over the shock of an attempted assassination when he'd gained a smoking hot Valkyrie head of security, seemingly bent on breaking him into small pieces. He'd gained a 'lion cub' in Quinn; he refused to give her the ring that would officially make her a Lioness until she was pregnant. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought Corinne had gone into heat around him lately. She'd been flirtatious previously, but there was a smoldering fire in her eyes lately that seemed to suggest they'd transitioned past flirting; Carson resolved to check his pheromone levels the next time it happened. Maybe he was subconsciously influencing her?

Then there was the deal with Sam's parents...he was still trying to wrap his mind around that.

With all the recent happenings and his recent lack of sleep on top of it, he felt a need to spend a night alone to avoid the temptation of indulging in his desires. Given the time and energy, he'd have happily spent the night pleasuring his Pride for as long as possible, and it was a strong temptation to simply plan to sleep on the plane. He decided to adult for the night, though, and slept a deep, peaceful sleep.

*****

"Is everything in place?"

"..."

"There can be no mistakes this time, Yelich. The consequences for failure would be...dire."

"..."

"According to our hacker friend, there have been no changes to his itinerary. He should reach the ambush at precisely 6:33 am."

"..."

"I should withhold part of the fee as a penalty for your failure. However, I am feeling unusually generous today. Half has been wired to your account; you'll receive the rest upon confirmation of death."

Atropos ended the call and was about to turn in for the night when his other communicator chirped. He really hoped it wasn't Lachesis again. The woman was becoming tiresome. He might need to engage Yelich again after this...

He answered without checking the display. "Lachesis, I was..."

"This is Clothos," the voice growled. Atropos swallowed heavily. There were few people in the world, very few, who made him uncomfortable; Clothos made his blood run cold. There was something wrong with the man; he was almost the antithesis of Orriri, which made his continued involvement in the project even more curious until you considered how power-hungry he was.

"Sorry, sir. I thought Lachesis would be wanting details of the plan to deal with the upstart."

"Never mind that. Is everything ready?"

"Yes. It's a much simpler plan. Less flashy, perhaps..."

"I don't care what the plan is, you idiot!" the voice thundered. "I just want to be sure that it will be handled. There can be no more mistakes."

"I agree, Sir. No more mistakes."

The icy tone dripped with malice. "There better not be, or there will be consequences."

Atropos answered, "Understood, Sir," before he realized that the line was dead. A shiver passed down his spine, and he began thinking, Yelich, you bastard, you better not fail again. I will kill you myself before they end me, I swear.

*****

Carson was loading his luggage in the transport when a second set of luggage appeared next to his, attached to the strong arm of one Tilda Grimaldi.

"You didn't really think you were travelling to Europe unaccompanied, did you?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, I kinda did," he replied.

She made that dismissive sound of pulling air through her teeth percussively, while rolling her eyes at him. It was less 'tsk' and more 'tch tch tch.' She said, "My job is to protect you. I can't do my job if you're thousands of miles away, now can I?"

"I guess not," he admitted glumly. Why did she have to make him feel like a little kid who did something wrong?

He was even less impressed when he went to the driver's door, only to find the seat occupied by Timmons, one of the security team members. "Back seat, Sir," Tilda said with exaggerated emphasis. She'd found that it was a guilty pleasure of hers to tease Carson in this way. Just as the women had said the other night, he really was uncomfortable with the thought that he was anything special.

Carson sat behind the driver, and Tilda sat adjacent to Carson. She trusted Timmons to scan in front of the vehicle for threats, and she would monitor the back and sides. The ride wasn't long, and a quick check of the clock showed that they were right on schedule to arrive with plenty of time to make the flight. On the short trip to the airport, Carson didn't bother pulling the contracts out of his travel satchel. He just resigned himself to staring out the window at what landscape he could see in the dim early morning light.

They were about two thirds of the way there, when suddenly, three things happened in rapid succession. Timmons swore. Timmons jerked the wheel to avoid an obstacle in the road. And Timmons took a round that passed through his neck and the headrest, before lodging itself in Carson's shoulder.

"Fuck!" Carson exclaimed.

"Get down!" yelled Tilda.

Timmons didn't make a sound louder than a gurgle, but he somehow managed to bring the vehicle to a rough stop against the concrete barrier wall before he expired. Meanwhile, more shots were peppering the vehicle. Tilda shielded Carson with her body, while scanning the surrounding area to try and determine where the gunman was. She managed to spot a muzzle flash, and was immediately grateful that the attack hadn't happened 30 minutes later. If it had, the shooter would be almost invisible in the glare of the rising sun. Thank goodness for small miracles.

She waited patiently, trying to determine if there were more attackers. When the shots trailed off, she assumed that it was a one man hit. If so, he was probably on his way towards them to verify they were dead. From where he'd been, by her calculations, they had a couple of minutes max.

Carefully, she eased her sidearm from the holster at her shoulder and clicked the safety off. Slowly, she raised her eyes to see where the gunman was. Movement in the foliage nearby gave his position away. She looked back at her charge. Carson was in a great deal of pain, and there was quite a bit of blood. He needed medical treatment soon, and they couldn't do that while the gunman was still active.

"Stay down," she whispered. The heavily tinted windows would make it difficult to see inside the vehicle without opening the door. She carefully reached up to ensure that the interior light was off, and then slowly pulled the handle of the door on the side away from the gunman so that it could be pushed open and waited.

After an eternity that lasted a minute or two, she spotted her adversary slowly making his way from cover. He was walking towards the vehicle with his pistol extended in both hands. Tilda carefully raised her own pistol. Firing through the window would likely ruin the shot, but it would put the other guy on the defensive and give her time to find a good firing position outside the car.

She sighted him down, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession. As she'd surmised, the first shot shattered the window but missed the target. The second shot was the one that did the damage. Somehow, she managed to hit the guy's dominant shoulder, which spun him away from the car and caused him to drop his weapon. The third shot missed him as he spun.

Like a shot, Tilda was out of the vehicle and stalking her prey. She moved cautiously, but quickly. The man was attempting to maneuver himself around to get a grip on his weapon with his off hand, but he was having a hard time. The reason became clear when he finally managed to roll himself over. The third shot had not missed like she thought; it had clipped the side of his head, burning a groove through the skin above his ear. He was bleeding heavily, and he probably had a concussion, the way he was acting. That didn't stop him from trying to get his gun up and fire at Tilda.

Tilda was pissed. She'd known Timmons for several years. He was a good man, and he didn't deserve to die drowning in his own blood. The only reason Tilda wasn't riddling the shooter's body already was because she needed to know who he was working for.

"Put your hands up and kick your weapon away!" she yelled at the guy. He almost had his hand on the grip.

"I will kill you where you sit. Back away!"

He got his hand on the pistol and sat up, pointing it at Tilda. "Put it down!" she screamed.

As her finger began to tighten on the trigger, the strangest thing Tilda had ever witnessed took place. Keeping his bead on her, the man pressed a button on his ear piece and said, "Go."

"..."

"There are complications, sir."

Even from a distance, Tilda could hear excited screaming coming from the man's earphone. Then, something was said that caused the man to become an automaton. His eyes lost all life. In a monotone, he said, "Thank you, sir." Then, mechanically, he put his pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Tilda just stood there for a moment trying to process what had just happened. She scrambled over and searched the man's pockets. He carried no identification, but on the back of his neck was an unusual tattoo. It showed a gauntleted hand squeezing a globe like a sponge. Tilda took a picture of it with her phone and grabbed the shooter's phone, in the hopes that it could somehow be used to track the origin of the call he'd received.

Then she remembered that Carson was bleeding and in need of medical attention. She shoved Timmons's body over to the passenger side and put the vehicle in motion. Heading for the nearest medical facility, she called Helena.

Groggy, Helena answered. But as Tilda described the attack, her fear pulled her to full consciousness in seconds.

"Is he okay?" cried Helena.

Tilda said, "I don't know. He took a round that passed through Timmons and a seat before it hit his shoulder. I doubt there's structural damage, but he's bleeding pretty bad. I'm on my way to the med center now. I think you'd better gather his Pride and head down there."

"We'll be there as soon as possible," she said before hanging up. Oh Carson, she thought, you can't leave me, my love.

That sentiment was one that echoed through the minds of all the women of Carson's Pride at various times that morning, as they waited for word of Carson's condition.

*****

Mason Tharp was about to go off shift when Tilda assisted Carson into the emergency room, yelling, "I need a doctor here!"

As the ER team sprang into action, Mason began probing for details as he assessed the situation. "What happened?"