She would collapse later. After she found what she needed to know, and after she’d moved her and Andy back to Chicago where they belonged.
* * *
Jackson returned from his meeting with his board of directors with a smile on his face. They’d had lunch at the country club to discuss the impending sale of Nakamura’s company, and according to Nakamura’s son, the sale would go through in just a few short weeks. He resisted the urge to pump his fist as he entered the empty office. It was after four, and everyone had already left.
To his surprise, his office door was cracked open. Nobody should have been in there at this time of day, especially when he wasn’t there. Pushing the door open, he found Siobhan seated behind his desk with a stack of papers in front of her. Andy was nowhere in sight.
“Hello, Jackson.”
He strode around the desk and kissed her, letting his tongue linger to get a better taste of her strawberry gloss. Maybe she’d come to surprise him with a little afternoon delight. It would be the first time his desk would be used for something besides work and he was looking forward to inaugurating the wood surface with his wife.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but weren’t you going home to get some work done after breakfast?”
She spread the papers across his desk in a giant fan. “Funny you mention that. Those were my plans, but they got sidetracked by a very interesting conversation I had with someone you know. This person said that you married me because you would have lost your job if you hadn’t.” She shook her head and looked down at the papers on his desk.
Following her gaze, he stiffened in horror at the documents she’d found. Everything from the proposal to issue a vote of no confidence for him to Haruto Nakamura’s congratulatory email were all there, exposing his lies and subterfuge to her.
“Honey, this isn’t what it looks like. I was going to explain once the sale went through.”
Tapping one of the sheets with a nail painted with clear gloss, she asked, “July fifteenth, right?”
“Well, that’s the tentative date, but --”
“Firm it up.” She bit off each word, spitting them at him like bullets. “I want your signature on a divorce agreement no later than midnight the day after.” She barked out a laugh and stood, “Too bad I let you fuck me. An annulment is a lot easier.” Without another word, she stood and walked toward the door.
He raced around to block her exit and held out his hands. “Would you just give me a chance to explain, please?”
Pursing her lips, she stared at him for a moment before speaking. “You know, if you had just told me what you needed, I might have agreed to marry you anyway. I needed a husband and you needed a wife. It would’ve been a match made in heaven for just long enough for both our needs.”
“But I don’t want it to be about that sale!” He reached forward to touch her, but she flinched away.
“Then you shouldn’t have lied to me. Maybe we might have worked it out. Or maybe not. You didn’t give us a chance, Jackson.” Tears filled her eyes and she backed out of his reach. “And the one thing I will not forgive is that you made me love you.”
Without another word, she stalked out, leaving him alone. Part of him wanted to chase her and make her listen, but what was the point? She was right about everything she’d said. Sighing heavily, he locked his office door behind him and left. He wasn’t sure if he should go home or not.
Maybe Siobhan would be there. She still had Andy’s house, but she’d moved a lot of her stuff to his place over the last few weeks. He broke all the speed limits going home, praying he caught her. If she’d just give him a few minutes, he could tell her how he felt.
His tires sprayed gravel as he slammed on the brakes in his driveway. Her car was gone and the house was dark. Walking inside, he smelled the scent of cooking meat and went to the kitchen. A large slow cooker was on the counter, set to warm. Lifting the lid, he felt sick at the sight of pot roast. His jaw clenched and he slammed the lid back down, then turned the pot off.
Pogo was gone, as were the cans of milk replacer and puppy pads, along with the plastic tub they’d kept him in until he could be on his own. When he went upstairs, he found most of her clothes gone, and Andy’s room was bare except for the furniture.
Aside from her few remaining clothes, the only sign that she’d been there at all was the divorce papers and a pen sitting in the middle of their bed. His legs gave out and he gathered the papers in a nerveless hand. A pink sticky note affixed to the front caught his attention.
Sign this and let me go.
He did as she asked and left. He couldn’t be in that house anymore, not when it was still filled with her scent and presence.
* * *
Jackson was early. He stood across the street from her in front of Marge’s diner, his hands in his pockets. His suit was badly wrinkled, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved or slept in days. Maybe he hadn’t. It had been two weeks since she’d seen him. She’d managed to talk Matt into acting as an intermediary when they needed to conduct business.
Was he already searching for his next soon-to-be-ex-Mrs. McKenna? Had too many nights out as Master Mike left those marks of exhaustion on his handsome face? Though the thought made her unaccountably jealous, it wasn’t her business. After today, he could do whatever he wanted. Maybe he could hook up with Mandy. They would be a match made in… Not heaven, that was for sure, but they deserved each other.
Hoisting Andy’s carrier over her arm, she glanced both ways and stepped into the crosswalk at the corner. Halfway across the street, the sound of squealing tires caught her attention away from Jackson and she froze.
A red sedan sped toward her, its driver wearing a hooded sweatshirt. Whoever it was, the driver wasn’t slowing down. Jackson’s panicked shouts were like whispers over the roaring engine.
Andy’s screams of fear snapped her out of her horrified trance. She ran toward Jackson, risking a glance at the car. With sick dread, she knew she wasn’t going to make the safety of the sidewalk. Jackson raced toward her, determination etched in every line on his face, but he wouldn’t get there in time. Even if he did, he’d get hit as well.
With everything she had, she threw Andy’s carrier toward him, praying he’d catch her most precious burden just as crushing pain stole her breath and sent her flying. Something snapped as her head hit the pavement and her vision blurred as she watched Jackson hand Andy to Marge. Though every part of her body screamed in agony, she didn’t have enough air to cry as the car sped away. Andy’s shrieks let her know he was safe and she smiled as her world went dark.
* * *
Screams from Marge’s patrons filled his ears as he dove forward to catch Andy’s carrier. The rough pavement tore at his knees and elbows as he slid, but the carrier landed safely in his arms. People had already gathered around Siobhan’s still form. When he saw a few of them had their phones out, he thrust Andy into Marge’s arms and said, “Call 911.”
“Already done. Wait! Where are you --”
He didn’t bother to listen to whatever she said next. The thought of that crowd of people standing over his wife like carrion crows made him see red. Too busy taking pictures and making exclamations of horror, no one helped her or seemed to even care that she might be dead.
When he reached her, he started tossing people aside, uncaring where they landed so long as it was far away from his wife. When one teenager protested and kept snapping pictures, he snatched the phone away and stomped on it, crushing the device into tiny bits of plastic before punching the boy’s lights out. Dropping to his knees, he touched her face.
Labored breath came from her parted lips, along with a steady trickle of blood. More blood coated the back of her head, matting her blonde hair into sticky tangles. Her face was scratched and abraded from hitting the pavement, and her right arm rested at an unnatural angle. He knew better than to move her but wanted desperately to gather her into his arms and kiss all her hurts better.
“Oh
, sweetheart.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear as sirens filled the air with their unholy screeching. “Open your pretty eyes and call me an asshole, honey. You know you want to.”
His throat clogged with tears and he choked out a sob when she didn’t respond. Uncaring who might hear, he said, “I want you to come back, baby girl. Open your eyes, please.”
But she didn’t. A paramedic pulled him away, whispering soft words that didn’t make any sense as her partners worked on his beautiful, broken wife. Jackson McKenna, who had never once cried over anything, fell to his knees in the street and sobbed.
He couldn’t lose her. Not now, and definitely not before he told her how much he loved her.
* * *
The wait for Siobhan to come out of surgery was untenably long, as was the list of her injuries.
He’d already told the police who had hurt her. Mandy’s red Toyota was very recognizable, as was the damage the vehicle had sustained when she hit Siobhan. That little bitch would go to prison for a very long time, if he had anything to say about it.
His mother had Andy and Pogo. A hospital was no place for a baby, though he missed the little dude fiercely. When had a baby become such an important part of his life?
A nurse in dark blue scrubs brought him a cup of coffee and he thanked her without registering her appearance. She sat down next to him and squeezed his shoulder.
“She’s going to be okay, Jackson. The surgery is going very well, and the doctors should be with you shortly. You’ll be able to see her in a few hours.”
He lifted his head and spared a glance for the nurse. Frowning, he asked, “Do I know you? You look familiar.”
The nurse -- Lisa, if her nametag was correct -- laughed softly. “We grew up on the same street. You took me to prom our senior year and my older brother threatened to geld you if you touched me.”
“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!” Now that he had a frame of reference, he remembered a shy redhead with glasses and soft, rounded curves. Lisa had grown into those curves and sported a sleek bob very different from the frizzy mop she’d worn in school. “You look amazing. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”
She shrugged and waved a hand. “It’s fine. Your wife is in surgery. I’d be surprised if you recognized your own mother right now.” Footsteps sounded behind her and she turned to look. “There’s the surgeon now. He’s smiling, so it’s good news.” Leaning over, she pecked his cheek and said, “By the way, nobody who matters believes any of that shit about Siobhan.” Standing, she squeezed his shoulder once more and walked away as the doctor approached.
Jackson stood and held out his hand. “How’s my wife?” he asked.
“Everything is fine. She’ll be good as new in a few months, but she’ll need a great deal of physical therapy for her arm, and you’ll want to watch…”
Jackson let the doctor’s voice wash over him. Whatever Siobhan needed, she would get. He’d already heard what he wanted to know. His baby girl was okay.
“Mr. McKenna, are you listening?”
He snapped his head up to face the doctor. “Yes, of course. Could you repeat that?”
Scowling, the doctor said, “We’ve already had an obstetrician in for consult, and your son or daughter will be just fine as well.”
His knees screamed in protest when he hit the floor. The hospital carpet was every bit as uncomfortable as it looked.
* * *
Let the record state that getting hit by a car was unpleasant. Siobhan’s vision was wonky, and her head hurt like a bitch. The cannula in her nose itched like crazy, but she was thankful for it. Taking in more than a shallow lungful of air hurt so bad she thought she might be sick.
And both arms were strapped down. One was decorated with an IV port and a stupendous crop of road rash covered in gauze and tape. The other was encased in a plaster half cast and wrapped until it looked mummified.
The lights in her room stabbed into her eyes, making them water, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed sand. Though it hurt, she felt around for a call button, but found nothing. The constant beep of monitors annoyed her, and the scent of disinfectant and bleach made her nauseous.
“I will go down on the first person who turns those lights off and gets me a fucking beer.”
Footsteps sounded a second before the lights went dim. She breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m afraid you can’t have alcohol, but I can give you some water.”
She blinked as Jackson’s large body came into focus and her pussy clenched and dampened. How had she missed him in this small room? And why the hell did her busted up body still react to his presence? Stupid hormones. “What are you doing here?”
He held out a cup of water, turning the straw so she could reach it. “We’re still married. I’m your next of kin.”
She sucked greedily at the straw, holding back a whimper of disappointment when Jackson took it away. Unwilling to talk about their fake marriage, she asked, “Where is Andy? Is he okay?”
“He and Pogo are with my mother. They’re both fine. Everyone is calling you José Rijo for how you tossed him to me.”
“Philistines. The least they could do is use a real pitcher like my man Carlos Zambrano.”
Laughing, he shook his head. “You Cubs fans are rabid and deluded.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out her wedding ring, but she clenched her hand when he tried to slip it on her finger.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “We’re not staying married!”
“Yes, we are, baby girl.”
His calm answer infuriated her and she ignored the endearment. “What are you talking about? You were supposed to sign the papers and give them to the lawyers --”
“That was before I found out you’re pregnant.” He grinned and pushed her hair off her forehead before kissing her temple. “Condoms aren’t 100 percent effective, it seems.”
Siobhan promptly threw up all over him. And she wasn’t sorry at all, even if she looked like Linda Blair. Served him right for dissing her Cubs, and for telling her such a horrible lie.
* * *
A week later, and against her will, Jackson carried her into his house. When she threatened to hit him with her cane if he touched her, he took it away from her and did as he pleased. She was trapped with him for the next several weeks. The docs wouldn’t let her out unless she stayed with someone, and she couldn’t take care of Andy in the shape she was in.
He’d barely left her side for the entire week. Even when she snapped at him and asked the nurses to make him leave, he came right back when the shifts changed -- like a bad penny. He was there when she gritted her teeth through therapy to soothe the torn muscles in her thighs. As if that was her first rodeo with PT. Please. Rugby players were well acquainted with that brand of sadism.
Snorting under her breath, she shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot where she could breathe without her eyes crossing in pain. The attending physician had smiled hugely when he confirmed her pregnancy, meaning she was left with nothing but acetaminophen for the lingering discomfort.
Pregnant, for fuck’s sake! That was almost worse than getting hit by a car. Not the pregnancy, really. She liked the idea of giving Andy a little brother or sister. But the sperm donor was another problem altogether, and Jackson had made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. She’d been an utter moron for going off birth control when she took Andy.
Jackson returned from the kitchen with a champagne flute and a plate of food balanced on a tray. Pulling the coffee table closer, he set the tray down and handed her the glass. “Virgin mimosa with sparkling grape juice, eggs Benedict, and decaf. All organic and perfect for you and the peanut.”
Her belly clenched and danced at his nearness, and she tried to stop herself from inhaling his spicy scent. She took the glass and brought it to her lips, suddenly thirsty. “Thank you.”
Nodding, he cut a bite of her food and held it to he
r lips. “Open,” he ordered.
“I can feed myself.” He slid the food into her mouth as she finished speaking, forcing her to chew and swallow before she could speak again. “I said --”
“Hush and eat, girl. It’s my turn to talk, and you’re going to be quiet or I’ll get a ball gag after you’ve finished your breakfast.”
Her mouth fell open in angry shock and he filled her mouth again, but this time with his tongue. Like every other time he kissed her, her brain shut down, reducing her to barely functioning idiocy as his male scent filled her nose. He explored her mouth with leisurely thoroughness, nipping her lip when she tried to pull away. When she whimpered and unconsciously clutched his shoulder, he backed off and laid two fingers over her lips.
“There’s my sweet baby girl,” he growled. He gave her a triumphant smile that made her want to slap him.
“I’m not your sweet anything, Jackson, and I’d appreciate if you’d keep your hands and your lips to yourself.”
Never losing his smile, he whipped a ball gag from his pocket. Though she tried to fight him off with her good arm, she was too sore and weakened from her injuries. When she clamped her lips together, he pinched her nose until she had to open to breathe, then slipped the ball between her lips and buckled it behind her head. Her furious scream did nothing to wipe the smirk off his face.
Sitting next to her, he eased her into his lap, careful of her injuries as he pulled her against his chest. “There we go. Isn’t that better?”
She didn’t bother to answer and looked everywhere but into his blue eyes. She would let him say what he had to say, hang out until she was well enough, then leave. They could discuss custody arrangements for the little one in her belly through their lawyers. Except that Jackson didn’t fight fair.
Ignoring the drool running down her chin, he touched her jaw and turned her to face him. “I’ve resigned from McKenna. I’ll continue to work as an advisor, but my mother is taking over as interim CEO until they can fill the position.”
Bastard's New Baby (Roosters Book 3) Page 10
