“You better not turn around,” I huffed as he turned and started reading the nearest thing. Which happened to be the Cosmopolitan Magazine I’d gotten in the mail earlier in the day.
I didn’t bother to ask why it was in there. There was a thing such as TMI in a relationship, and that was part of it.
“Are you done yet?” Miller asked in exasperation.
I snorted. “I haven’t even gotten the wrapper off yet.”
He whipped around and tore into the package with ease, handing the little white stick over to me before going back to reading something in the magazine.
“Anything good in there?” I attempted to make small talk.
“Hmm,” he said. “How to please your man when you go out with friends. How to give your man the best blow job of his life. What happens to your breasts when you eat too much salt.”
I blinked.
“Which one of those has you the most interested?” I asked.
I could practically hear the smile overtake Miller’s face as I looked down at the test in my hand, then attempted to pee on the stick without peeing on my hand.
“What a high salt intake does to your boobs,” he teased.
I grinned and pulled the stick out, happy that I’d managed not to pee on myself in the process and set it on the counter like it was a bomb ready to blow.
“Hey!” I said when Miller turned around and started staring at the test as if he could will it to turn pink.
“Are you sure you’re late?” he asked for confirmation.
I rolled my eyes.
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“How do you know?” he persisted.
I flushed the toilet and pushed him with my shoulder to get him to move out from in front of the sink.
Then I washed my hands, studiously ignoring the white stick on the counter. I kept my eyes on everything but it. The walls of my bathroom with its hideous white orchid flowered wallpaper. The way my shower curtain matched everything but the wallpaper. The way Miller kept his eyes on the stick, fists planted on the counter as he watched.
“Are you going to stare at it for the whole two minutes?” I asked worriedly.
God, why was I so freakin’ nervous?
My eyes ran down Miller’s torso.
He was shirtless and barefoot. His uniform pants were the only thing he was wearing, having ripped the rest of the uniform off the minute he’d walked through my door.
I now had a designated spot for him to hang his things for work, as well as his clothes in my closet.
Something I found that he didn’t do, instead throwing everything he had on down on the couch the moment he walked through the door after a shift.
He’d gotten off of work only an hour ago, but he’d made a stop at the store to buy some pregnancy tests.
He probably looked like a weirdo buying as many as he had, but he was happy, so I didn’t mind.
“I don’t need a whole two minutes. I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck the plus sign and the two lines mean,” he grumbled.
I snorted. “Well, it would’ve said on the directions.”
His eyes lifted, and he glared before bending down and picking up the crumpled up directions.
“Two lines and no plus sign means negative,” he read. “Two lines and a plus sign means…” He looked up at me, meeting my eyes, when he said, “Positive.”
My heart started to pound ferociously. My eyes widened, and my breathing sped up.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
He grinned and dropped the paper, which, I noticed, fell to the floor, completely missing the trashcan.
His arms wrapped around my shoulders, and he stared into my eyes through the mirror.
My eyes started to water, and then slowly, the tears spilled over.
“I hope it’s yours,” I said desperately.
His eyes, those beautiful blue, soulful eyes, were drowning in happiness.
My heart lightened slightly as I smiled sadly at him.
“It’s going to be okay,” he urged again.
I nodded. “I know. I know it will. I just hope it’s yours. With all my heart I hope the baby is yours.”
He kissed the side of my neck. “The baby is mine. It doesn’t matter whose fucking genes he or she carries. That baby will be mine just as much as it’s yours.”
The heartfelt promise from him had me breathing correctly again, but the little niggle of need slid down my spine as I snuggled into his arms.
Now that I was pregnant… would he be around like he used to be?
And what would everyone say? I had a feeling that this was going to get a lot worse before it got better.
I just hoped what I thought wouldn’t become a precursor of bad things to come.
Which was proved to be true an hour later when I got an express letter from Mitch’s lawyer telling me to meet them in two days’ time to discuss what he’d left me in his will.
***
Miller
“You fucking what?” my brothers yelled in unison.
I looked at them sharply, wondering what I’d said to make them both react like that.
“What the fuck?” I asked, standing up from my crouched position in the waist-high water.
“Please tell me you’re fucking joking,” Foster pleaded, hands going up to his head and crossing at the top of his skull.
My brows furrowed. “What?”
“You knocked her up? After everything she’s been through?” Foster all but yelled.
Ducks that’d been coming in hot turned sharply, banking right and flying as fast as their wings could carry them.
“What the fuck would possess you to do that?” Trance growled.
“I didn’t do anything. We did it,” I said slowly.
What was their deal?
I had literally only said two words: ‘Mercy’s pregnant.’
Those two words had caused them both to explode into condemnations and accusations. Which led us to now.
“You can’t fucking use a condom for God’s sake? Now you’ll never know whose kid it is! Can you do a DNA test this early?” Trance asked.
“He’s so fucked now. She’ll say it’s his and he’ll have to pay child support,” Foster said with a snide tone to his voice.
I stopped and stared at the both of them. “You’re fucking kidding me right now, aren’t you?”
My brothers froze at the hardness and the absolute hostility that put a lethal edge in the tone of my voice.
“Miller,” Trance said, raising his hand. “What’s going on?”
Foster didn’t open his mouth again, only watched me, as did Trance.
“Listen, you stupid fucks,” I hissed. “I’m going to tell you this once, and once only. Mercy is mine. That kid she’s carrying is mine. And if you don’t like it, then you can get the fuck out of my life. Don’t make me do that, because I’m telling you right now, that if you ever make me choose, I’ll choose her. Every single fucking time and twice on Sunday. That woman is a part of me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her from everything. Even my own brothers’ rudeness.”
Trance’s face tightened, as did Foster’s, but they didn’t argue.
“Listen,” Foster said softly. “It was never meant to come out as hurtful, we’re just worried about you man. Tell us what’s in your head. We love Mercy. We just don’t want to see you caught up in all the shit that we can see in the very near future.”
I visibly relaxed, knowing instantly that they’d have my back.
What Foster had just said had hit closer to home than he even knew.
We drove home in silence, the thrill of the hunt long gone.
They followed me inside my place, though, not thinking even for a moment that I would deny them entry.
“Fuck,” I said, dropping down to the couch in front of my brothers. “This has been a long fucking day, and I need to get your opinions on some thing
s.”
They both sat, but not before they each grabbed a beer from the fridge.
We were at the apartment that I shared with Foster, although there hadn’t been much sharing lately. I’d spent nearly every night I had off at Mercy’s place and only came here when I needed some more clothes. Slowly it was all being moved over. The only thing that remained now was the big stuff.
“Shoot,” Trance said as he offered me a beer.
I took it and twisted the cap off, folding the aluminum in on itself and tossing it into a can in the corner of the room.
It bounced off the top, overflowing from the red coffee can since there was no room left in the already full canister.
I watched it twist for a few seconds before it settled beside the others on the floor before continuing.
“Mercy got a letter from her ex’s lawyer. Apparently, he left her a sizable amount of money in his will, as well as the house that his mother is currently residing in,” I said tiredly, pinching the bridge of my nose between two fingers.
They blinked.
Trance was the one to come up with words first. “Is she going to take it?”
I shook my head. “No. We’re going to go up there tomorrow. She says she’ll refuse it, and/or sign the waiver saying she doesn’t want it. It’ll then go to the next person in line, which is probably the mother.”
Foster raised his brows. “I’d take that fucker. Fuck him. She deserves to have that house and all his money. Fuck. Him.”
Eloquent, but rightly said. I’d been of much the same opinion, but it wasn’t up to me, it was up to Mercy.
“I tried to tell her that already, but she doesn’t want it. I’m going to be supportive of whatever she wants to do,” I said honestly.
They both stared at me blankly.
“And the baby? You know they’re going to ask. Hell, man, we said something and we’re your brothers. There’ll be talk about who the kid belongs to. You know that, right?” Foster finally added.
I nodded in agreement. “We know that. It’s why we did it. They’ll speculate, but it’ll never be proven. That’s why we did what we did. She didn’t want to have that always hanging over her. Over the baby’s head. And I gave that to her.”
They both stared at me hard before nodding. “Then we’ll support you. And my babies will have a new little cousin to play with,” Trance said, extending his hand.
I took it with a smile. “Damn right they will.”
Chapter 11
If it’s hot, wet, sticky, and not yours… don’t touch it.
-Note to self
Miller
I walked into the lawyer’s office with Mercy on my arm, worried that this was all a big mistake.
Not only would she have to see the ex’s mother, but she’d have to see the father, too. The father who looked exactly like Mitch Moose. The father who had sent her into a panic the last time she’d seen him.
“Alright,” the lawyer said once we entered the room. “We’re here to read Mitch Moose’s will. Everyone who is in this room has been mentioned in the will in some way, shape, or form. Are you all ready to proceed?”
The mother glared in our direction when we sat down in the chairs to the right of the lawyer’s desk.
The lawyer’s name was Ryan Monk, and he was an estate lawyer in Kilgore.
He specialized in wills for one’s estate once they’d passed.
Ryan started reading the will, and unsurprisingly, the majority of the ‘little things’ went to Mitch’s mother. However, then he got to the house.
“The house has been left to Mercy Shepherd. As well as the house, she will get the entirety of Mitch’s life insurance policy, as well as his…”
I didn’t hear the rest of what the lawyer said because Mitch’s mother went into a flurry of action.
She tore the papers from the lawyer’s hands and threw them against the wall.
I stood, placing myself between Mercy and the crazy bitch, using my body as a shield.
Raine, the crazy bitch’s ex-husband, stood too, pushing the woman to the corner of the room.
I glanced at Mercy out of the corner of my eye, seeing that she was standing back from the desk, more toward the wall.
I nodded at her, telling her to stay where she was at and turned back to the mother just in time to see her push the ex-husband away.
He fell to the ground, tripping over the expensive rug on the floor, and landed with a loud thump.
Then the mother launched the lamp across the room in Mercy’s direction in the next moment.
It missed her, but not before it caused the TV that was hanging on the wall to crash to the ground.
Mercy leaped out of the way in time for it to smash to pieces at her feet, but she stumbled and fell, hitting her face on the corner of the desk.
I was moving almost before she leaped and was able to get to her the moment she fell completely to the floor.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the father move to detain the crazy bitch and was grateful.
The lawyer sat stunned behind his desk, looking at the entire thing like it was happening in someone else’s office.
“Mercy,” I said urgently, looking into her eyes.
She winced, lifting her hand to come to rest right above her hairline.
Blood started to seep between her fingers, causing my stomach to roll.
“I’m okay,” she said softly, getting up to stand.
But when she stood, her face paled to a deathly white, and she looked down in horror.
I followed the movement of her eyes and stepped back in horror.
Horror only because she was bleeding from between her legs, and badly.
I scooped her up in my arms and started to run down the hall.
The first thing I did was place her into her seat before buckling her in. The next thing I did was rip my t-shirt off and hand it to her. “Put it over the cut on your head,” I ordered.
She complied gingerly, placing the t-shirt over her cut, and I walked around to my side of the car after closing her door softly.
I was glad we’d taken the cruiser today, because I utilized the lights and sirens as I sped frantically to the hospital.
Mercy’s jeans were saturated with red from the apex of her thighs all the way down to her knees in bright red blood.
She was staring straight ahead, eyes locked on the road in front of us as I weaved in and out of traffic.
Her hand that wasn’t covering the wound over her head, though, was still clutched tightly in mine.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said softly.
I looked over at her eyes to find them on me.
My doubt must’ve shown on my face because her features softened. “It’s not over yet.”
That was all she said until I pulled my cruiser into the emergency drive at the ER entrance and rushed to her side.
I scooped her up much like I had before, walking directly through the hospital doors.
The people in the front room rushed around at seeing all the blood and started taking her straight back to a room.
“What’s her history?” the nurse who was the first one to us, asked.
“She’s pregnant and took a hard fall. Her head hit the corner of the desk, and that’s how she got the head lac,” I told them, following as they opened door after door.
We finally made it to the back of the hospital where she led us into the room furthest to the right.
“Is she allergic to anything?” the nurse asked as the doctor entered the room.
“She can answer. And she is not allergic to anything,” Mercy said tiredly.
“Sir, if you can leave the room while we perform the internal…” the doctor started to say, but Mercy started to fight.
“No!” she screeched, pulling away from the nurse’s hands and into my chest.
She practically crawled up my chest, and I looked at the doctor who was staring
at Mercy with not a little amount of concern.
“She was raped six weeks ago,” I said softly. “She’s not comfortable with having a man do this. You’ll need to find a woman. Preferably one that’s small.”
He nodded and left without another word, and a woman returned not long after with the name Dr. A. Abernathy embroidered on the breast pocket.
“Hello,” the woman said softly. “I’m Dr. A. Can I see you now, dear?”
Mercy turned her head so it was no longer buried under my chin, enabling her to see the sweet-looking doctor.
She was in her late twenties and had long blonde hair that came down to her waist. It was pulled back in a low ponytail out of her face, allowing me to see her pretty blue eyes.
Eyes that were filled with sadness and hurt.
The nurse who was already in the room, gently took a hold of Mercy’s hand and helped her onto the bed.
“Do you want us to cut your pants off or let your husband take them off?” the nurse asked softly.
“Husband,” she said softly.
Something warmed inside of me at hearing those words.
Moving slowly, I gestured toward the door. “Close it.”
The doctor nodded and turned to close it, then kept her back turned to us.
I slowly worked the pants down Mercy’s legs, shimmying them over her hips and down her legs with practiced ease.
This felt nothing like it normally did.
I was surprised to see that there wasn’t nearly as much blood as I’d once feared.
The nurse, Aubrey, as her nametag read, held up a gown to cover her legs even before I thought to ask her to.
I smiled at her gratefully, then turned so I could watch Mercy’s face to ascertain how she was doing. Which if the pale, blank look was anything to go by, wasn’t very good.
“Mercy Me,” I said softly.
She turned her face toward mine, and I leaned down to give her a small kiss.
“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” I demanded softly.
She closed her eyes for a minute, and when she opened them again, I saw her inner fire.
“I’m gonna take that bitch’s house and kick her the fuck out. Then I’m gonna donate the place to the homeless shelter,” she growled.
Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set Page 69
