And she was going to make it count.
Nikkie Jean grabbed a handful of salt-and-pepper hair and yanked with all of her might.
She was determined to win this time.
It was her turn now.
She was fighting for the man she loved.
98
HE COULDN’T SHAKE HER off. Not and fight the big bastard, too. Wallace shifted his attention from escaping Alvaro to keeping Nikkie Jean from gouging out his eyes.
Such a fierce little wildcat, she was. Fighting for the man she loved.
At one time, Jennifer would have fought for him, too. But he had ruined that. Jennifer knew about his affairs. And had known from the very beginning.
For thirty years, she’d lived with his betrayal, she said.
And she’d stopped loving him a long time ago.
With a roar just from the anguish that caused he reared up, shaking the small woman off his back like a fly.
Nikkie Jean went flying, to slam into the wall five feet away.
She cried out.
Both men froze. Alvaro turned frantic. His hand went around Wallace’s neck.
Wallace kicked him in the balls. Alvaro went down. Wallace grabbed for his only avenue of escape. He yanked Nikkie Jean from the floor.
She yelled and screamed and kicked. Wallace couldn’t help himself; he shoved her away again.
Alvaro was back on his feet.
Wallace saw the huge fist coming at his face far too late to avoid it.
Alvaro’s punch connected.
Wallace went down—and didn’t get up again.
He just laid there on the floor of the charity designed to help women heal, and bawled like a baby, sobbing out his wife’s name over and over.
It was over.
He’d never be able to clean up his own mess again. He stayed there until hands of a stranger yanked him from the ground and cuffed him.
Other hands were there to help Alvaro to his feet.
The man’s twin was carefully lifting little Nikkie Jean into his own arms, promising her he’d take care of her, and the baby she was pleading with him to protect.
The baby. Wallace had forgotten about Nikkie Jean’s baby in the heat of the moment. He hoped he hadn’t harmed the baby. He wasn’t that much of a monster, was he?
He was. He was. It was time he finally admitted it.
All of this was his own fault. He’d failed. Wallace tuned everything out from that point on. It didn’t matter.
He’d lost what mattered most.
99
CAINE’S ARM AND CHEST WERE ON fire, and every bone in his body ached. He didn’t care. He could hear her crying. He forced himself to turn. “Nikkie Jean?”
And there she was.
Rafe had her. Carrying her protectively. “How badly is she hurt?”
“Bumps and bruises,” Rafe said. “You’re hurt worse. I’m going to take care of her. I promise that. You just get that shoulder taken care of.”
“Dalton’s still in the day care.”
“We’ll take care of him.” His twin looked at him. Nikkie Jean was still sobbing in Rafe’s arms. But her eyes were on Caine. Fear was written all over her.
“I can carry her.” She’d be afraid. What this had done to her—beyond the physical—they’d have to get through the trauma from this, too.
“Not right now, man,” Thor said. There were TSP detectives flooding the room. Caine just ignored them, and Henedy’s broken wailing for his wife. “You’re bleeding pretty badly. Let the twin get your girl. I’ll watch over her, too.”
“Caine,” Nikkie Jean said firmly. “You do what you are told this time. This is my hospital you’re going to. My rules.”
Her eyes were…steady. Calming. She was resting in Rafe’s arms, but she wasn’t crying any longer. She was ok.
No matter what happened from here on out, she was ok. “Yes, ma’am.”
Thor groaned. “Now she’s got him hen-pecked already.”
“Who are you?” Nikkie Jean asked as Rafe carried her across the parking lot and Vince Acardi’s son helped Caine.
Caine was walking at least. Talking. But the blood on his shoulder was spreading.
“What’s it the ladies are saying now? I’m his bestie, sweetie. Who are you?”
“I’m his…Nikkie Jean.”
Caine and Rafe both laughed. Rafe grinned down at her, then looked at the big man in a plaid shirt she’d never met before. “That’s about the only way to describe her.”
“Damn, Caine. This one is peanut-sized. What does she see in you?”
Nikkie Jean looked at the man she loved. “Everything.”
Caine stopped walking. His brother stopped, too.
Caine leaned over and kissed her. Just once, right on the forehead.
The most perfect kiss of all.
“Rafe, Izzie?” Nikkie Jean asked, as fear for her friend resurfaced now that she and Caine and the baby were safe from Wallace Henedy. “How is she?”
“Allen handed her over to Cage and Virat. I don’t know anything at this point.”
“Then hurry. Get Caine help and…just get us there.”
“Hang on, baby. We’ll do that.”
100
HE TRIED TO BLOCK OUT everything that had happened while Dr. Kaur set the stitches in his arm. Allen wouldn’t let himself worry about Izzie and what was no doubt going on in that operating room.
She’d been gasping for breath when he’d carried her in. And the blood loss…
“She’s with Cage and Vir,” Fin said, after peeking her head in. “And Wanda went in with her.”
“Any updates?” Layla asked. “What happened across the road?”
“TSP is over there now.” Allen heard the fear in Fin’s tone.
No one knew what condition Nikkie Jean would be in when this all ended.
Allen waited impatiently until she set the last stitch and applied the bandage. He yanked his shirt off his head and tossed it toward the biohazard bin. “I’m going. See if I can help.”
“Allen…”
“Layla, that’s Nikkie Jean over there. And Henedy worked for me. I need to be there.”
Someone yelled out orders, just outside the exam room curtain. Allen jerked it back. Rafe was there, Nikkie Jean in his arms. She was moving and talking and crying.
And alive.
Thank God.
“Go, Layla. I know she’s your patient.”
The OB didn’t hesitate.
Dr. Alvaro walked at her side, being supported by a big man Allen didn’t recognize. There was blood all over Alvaro.
“Allen!” Nikkie Jean yelled when she saw him. “Where’s Izzie?”
“Virat has her on the table now,” Fin told her. “I’m going up to wait for word.”
“So am I,” Allen said.
“Stay with her, Allen. Please? Just take care of her for me?” Nikkie Jean turned those big hazel eyes in his direction.
“Of course, I will. I’m not leaving this hospital until I’m sure she’ll be ok.”
“Thanks.”
Lacy and Dr. Peno, one of the ER doctors, sprang into action, taking Dr. Alvaro in one direction.
Layla Kaur took Nikkie Jean in another.
Allen headed toward the OR.
Epilogue
CAINE WATCHED HER sleeping for the longest time.
They were in the same room as last time. It was remarkable how that room somehow always seemed to be open when needed.
The OB had decided to keep Nikkie Jean overnight, as a precaution.
She hadn’t taken any direct hits to the abdomen, but she’d been knocked around. His fists balled up as he thought about that bastard Henedy and what he’d done.
What he could have cost them.
Izzie was one floor down, in critical but guarded condition. Mostly from complications from the asthma. One bullet had nicked her lung. The other had passed through fatty tissue and done moderate damage to her liver. She’d had to have part of her liver removed, but
she would heal. The third bullet had passed through her outer arm to lodge in Allen Jacobson’s shoulder. It had grazed the bone, but the man would make a full recovery.
He sat in the room with Nurse Izzie now, refusing to leave.
He’d made a promise to Nikkie Jean—that’s what Fin had told them when she’d stopped by to check on them. Whether Izzie wanted him there or not, he wasn’t leaving.
Izzie hadn’t woken long enough to say one way or the other what she wanted.
Her uncle was out of town. She had no one else except Annie, who was recovering somewhere Caine had no idea, and Nikkie Jean. The people she worked with.
He knew what it was like to be that alone. No more. Izzie had a family with him and Nikkie Jean whenever she wanted it.
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” a voice said from behind him. “Yours. Not hers. Trust me. Those beds aren’t big enough for two people.”
“She could sleep on top. She’d fit.”
“Yeah…don’t try it. Personal experience here.”
He looked at his twin. At the sleeping little boy Rafe held.
Henry was keeping the twins at home for the night. But Dalton…Dalton was going home with Aunt Jillian for his first official sleepover.
Caine’s world was never going to be the same again.
He was damned glad Nikkie Jean had blown into his ER that night. She’d brought the wind with her.
Brought hope and life and everything.
He wrapped the fingers of his good hand around hers. It rested over their baby.
Right where it should.
Caine leaned in and kissed her once, as his twin brother settled his sleeping son in Caine’s lap around the sling he’d have to wear for a month or so. The damage had been minimal, thanks to a small caliber size and him being a larger-than-average man.
But he would need to heal.
They all would.
But they’d be healing together.
What’s going on with Annie?
Homeless. With three little boys.
* * *
ER Nurse Annie Gaines has gotten through a lot in her life.
* * *
Losing her home to the city's next mall project is just another mountain she must climb.But she will triumph and give her soon-to-be adopted sons the life--and home--they deserve.To make that happen she first has to confront one of the wealthiest men in the city.
* * *
If anyone can help her it will be him--the mayor of Finley Creek.
* * *
Mayor Turner Barratt takes one look at the pretty, sweetly shy woman standing in his office and falls head over heels into instant lust--like many Barratt men have before him.
* * *
Instant love is a Barratt family tradition, after all--even if he hadn't believed in it before.
* * *
But when the tornado strikes, the world explodes around them.
* * *
Annie and Turner are thrown into the nightmare.
* * *
Once they are pulled from the rubble, nothing between them will ever be the same.
* * *
Now the entire city must recover, and it's Turner's job to help the citizens of his beloved Finley Creek do just that.
* * *
But natural disasters meant big profits for some.
* * *
When Turner gets in the way, Annie may just pay the price...
Someone had to stop the mayor of Finley Creek before he ruined everything.
Unfortunately, that someone was going to have to be Annie. Somehow, she had to go into the mayor’s office, appearing confident and knowledgeable. Like she knew what she was saying and meaning, and convince the mayor of Finley Creek not to destroy her neighborhood.
Somehow. Her.
Mayor Turner Barratt, and his special Clean Up Boethe Street initiative was about to send Annie and ninety-something neighbors to the streets. The money they were offering was not fair market value, and that hurt. It made her neighbors afraid, desperate, and confused.
Annie and her family would be ok, thanks to her job and careful financial planning for the last twelve years, but the rest of her friends and neighbors probably wouldn’t.
The city was about to rip them off. All in the name of progress.
Her neighbors, Frederick and Gabney Henderson, had lived in their home for sixty years. They didn’t deserve to have a bunch of city councilmen telling them they had to move and that the house they’d loved for most of their lives was in too poor shape to remain standing. Fred had built it with his own two hands.
Condemned.
Well, that was a load of crap. Annie’s house might not be in the best of conditions, but she was working to fix that. The Hendersons was in better shape than hers. She’d just had new energy-efficient windows installed two months ago. The roof was less than ten years old. It was sound, livable, and comfortable. It just wasn’t pretty—yet.
The city wanted her land to put another commercial center on it. Now she had a little over two months to convince the mayor that taking peoples’ homes was not something he wanted to do.
How was she supposed to convince one of the Barratts of Finley Creek to do anything? She’d already circulated petitions, held protests—that only her two best friends had attended—and written countless letters. None of it had done a bit of good.
She was almost ready to give up and just accept the hand fate had dealt her.
There were other houses out there. Moving her entire life somewhere else would probably be easier than dealing with a Barratt.
The Barratts she knew were bold, forceful, and used to getting their own ways. Even her friend Fin, a second cousin of the Barratts, was more outspoken and better able to do this kind of thing than Annie.
Annie, who had done her best to blend in her entire life.
Having a decent home for herself, and now her three little boys, had been her dream since she’d been twelve. No Barratt had the right to take that away from her. She could do this. She could.
She just had to get in there and get through.
Annie hurried up the six blocks to city hall from the hospital where she worked, hoping she’d at least be able to beat the rain. Meeting the mayor while disheveled from a twelve-hour shift in the busiest hospital in the city was one thing—she didn’t want to be a little drowned rat, too. She’d carefully applied more makeup in the break room than she normally wore.
It was now or never.
Thunder cracked overhead.
The sky was darkening in a way she didn’t like.
She was an idiot. She shouldn’t be out here tonight.
She should be home with her boys. Where she was most needed. It was almost time for their dinner. Then they needed their baths, snuggles and playtime, and put to bed.
She was needed at home. Time with her boys was her most precious gift, and working twelve-hour shifts three days a week, plus a six-hour day on weekends, meant she didn’t see them nearly as much as she wanted.
That’s where she needed to be. Not taking advantage of a weak friend connection to the mayor of Finley Creek.
This was the only time the mayor had—it was all she was going to get.
Annie was going to make it work. She just had to convince him of her reasons and stubbornly outwait him. Just get through. She could do stubborn and just outwaiting people. Nothing she hadn’t done before.
Quiet stubbornness had gotten her this far.
Just get through had been Annie’s mantra since about the age of four, twenty years ago, when she’d realized her parents honestly didn’t care where she was or what she was doing, as long as she didn’t interfere with what they were doing. She could do this.
If she didn’t, she and her sons were going to be moving in less than two months. Whether she wanted to or not. Just as their final adoption hearing was approaching.
Any hitch could delay the adoption, could help her mother get her claws into the boys even stron
ger. Even once the adoption was final, the boys would have daily subsidies to help with any ongoing needs they might have. Her mother wanted that money.
Annie would most likely win a court battle—she’d been the primary caregiver for the boys since they’d been placed with them, and she’d been the primary provider. The boys already called her Mommy.
But her mother was manipulative and determined. She’d make trouble for Annie just for spite. Trouble Annie didn’t need right now, either.
Annie couldn’t afford to be without a home, a stable, secure, safe home, perfect for three little boys who had nowhere else to go. If her mother’s attorney wanted to, he could make it very difficult for Annie to prove she was the better parent for the boys. Annie and her mother were both listed as foster parents on the boys’ paperwork. But life was a bit different than what was written in black and white.
She could not lose her boys. The only way to make certain that didn’t happen was getting the adoption final as fast as was legally possible. Then she could worry about moving, if she had to.
That meant facing down the mayor first.
If he was the beast she had to face to keep her children, then Annie would face him down with nothing but a toothpick if she had to.
It almost felt like that.
Powerful men had always terrified her. Probably from having a powerful father who had liked to use his fists when his daughter didn’t behave exactly as he’d wanted. That had ended when she’d been twelve and he’d almost killed her in her front yard. A police officer with the TSP had saved her life that day.
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