by P. Jameson
Janet Masterson hung her head over the toilet bowl, breathing deep and willing her gut to stop clenching. There was nothing left in her stomach to throw up. Not even saliva. And it hurt like hell to throw up nothing. There was no point to it. Just another way for her body to betray her.
Two more choking heaves that made her eyes water and her throat burn, and it was finally over. She gasped for breath as she collapsed to the floor beside the commode and pressed her cheek to the cool tile. She didn’t even mind that it was probably unsanitary as hell.
She’d lain on worse. Much worse.
Memories of the grimy cement floor of the dungeon she’d shared with the other Dolls floated through her mind. It always smelled in there, no matter how much they all tried to keep it clean. Like body odor and rotten food and mildew.
Now she lived in a warehouse next door to a garbage facility, and it smelled like heaven to her. Probably just because she wasn’t a captive here. Funny how circumstances could change your whole perception of things.
She knew she should get off the floor, try to make it back to the bed. But she didn’t have the strength, and she wouldn’t call for help.
One of the Dolls would hear if she yelled, but she wasn’t ready to face them. They would want to take her to the hospital. They’d ask questions. Ones she didn’t have the answers to. It would go something like this:
Why are you so weak? Why are you this sick?
What’s going on with you? This isn’t normal.
Jan, we’re worried.
Then she would tell them the horrible truth.
I’m pregnant.
Pregnant. There was a tiny baby growing inside her, and she hadn’t even known it until the roguish man who helped rescue her from Bastian’s prison pressed his nose to her jaw and sniffed. She’d been changing his bandages where he was shot in the shoulder by one of Bastian’s men. She would never forget the look on Smokes’s face as he’d pulled back to stare at her with a hard, questioning glare.
“You are with child,” he’d growled low while she sputtered at his nearness.
“No.”
“Yes. I smell it.”
“Smell it?” She knew they were half animal, and they could do things normal people couldn’t. But performing pregnancy tests?
An actual test had proven it. Seven of them. She’d begged him not to tell anyone, to keep her secret until she could figure out what to do.
And he had.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered to the bathroom floor, saying it out loud for the first time and imagining what it would be like to tell her friends, the ones who knew everything she’d been through. Who’d been through it with her.
Depending on who responded to her call for help, they would either gasp or look at her with pitiful eyes or scowl.
And then more questions:
What? How? Who?
What will you do?
And she’d have no answers. Zero. None.
Because of what Bastian had made her do… she couldn’t answer a single fucking one. Especially not the most important one… who?
Whose baby grew inside of her?
Was it the man who had a foot fetish? Or the one who smelled like grape cough syrup? Maybe it was that asshole who liked to pull her hair as he used her body.
Her empty stomach twisted again, threatening to force her back to the rim of the toilet.
Don’t think about it. Just breathe. Keep breathing. Breathe.
Breathing meant surviving. Surviving meant there was still hope.
How many times had she repeated this in her mind while sick things happened to her? Powerless to stop it. Powerless to fight it. So damn powerless.
You’re not that anymore.
The hollow echo of boots drew closer until they were just outside the door of her room. Faintly, she registered the knock, and then heard the creak as someone stepped in. She knew it was him. Smokes. He watched over her, waiting for her to decide what this baby meant. He checked in too much, but if not for him, she wouldn’t be able to keep her secret.
Her eyes drooped closed, too heavy to stay open. She had every plan of opening them if he came into the bathroom. Even planned on lifting her head so she wouldn’t look like a helpless waif. But she wasn’t quick enough because suddenly he was standing over her, eyes creased with worry as her cheek still kissed the cold floor.
“Goddamn it,” he murmured, kneeling beside her.
“S’ok.” Nothing like three syllables coming out as one. Damn, she was exhausted.
Smokes brushed her hair back from her face softly. She was getting used to the way he touched her. Only ever her hair… mostly to hold it back when she barfed. But she appreciated how careful he was. Like his touch could hurt her if he wasn’t.
It didn’t go unnoticed that he was completely opposite from the harsh men she’d serviced at Bastian’s demand.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Sick.”
He glanced over at the toilet bowl, seeing there was nothing there.
“Can’t… stop.” She’d have to hope he got the gist of what she was trying to say, because more words meant expending more energy. And she had none.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he lifted her into his arms and stood with her.
“Your shoulder,” she objected. His gunshot wound wasn’t yet fully healed.
“It’s fine, woman. Stop worrying about me.”
Pressing her close to his chest, he walked with her into the bedroom. Janet closed her eyes, taken aback by how… sturdy he was. Strong. Powerful. And warm. He was so warm, and his arms supported her as if that’s what they were made to do.
Like she was meant to fit against his chest right next to his pounding heart.
She shouldn’t believe in love and happily-ever-afters, but she’d seen them happen right before her very eyes. For Marlee and Vegas and Nyla. She’d watched those tough Alley Cat men wrap their women in their arms and hold them together when everything was falling apart. Just like Smokes did now.
Stop it. Don’t do this.
She couldn’t think about him like that. He didn’t need her. Didn’t even like her. He just knew her secret and wasn’t letting her out of his sight until the clan found out and decided what to do with her. Would they send her away?
No, the Dolls wouldn’t let them. The other girls would go to bat for her, she knew that. They’d been through too much together.
Smokes laid her on the bed, barely jostling her at all, and then pulled the blankets up to her chin.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. Just stared.
And not for the first time, she wished she could tell what he was thinking. His dark eyes bore into her in a way that left her feeling exposed. As if he could see all the rotten parts of her. He had the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man. If you just focused on his eyes, you could call him beautiful. But when your gaze wandered to take in his high cheek bones and sharp beard-covered jaw and the long cut of his charcoal hair… you could only describe him as a handsome terror.
A throat cleared, pulling her attention to a stranger standing in the doorway. A man she didn’t know and had never seen before. Not one of the Alley Cats. He looked angry. His dark hair was mussed and his hands were tied behind his back.
Something wasn’t right.
A frisson of fear rolled up her spine and threatened to trigger her gag reflex.
Janet coughed, and the man’s frustrated gaze turned into something else. Concern?
“You going to untie me, or what?” he asked Smokes.
What was going on?
She found Smokes, asking the question with her eyes because speaking was too much. He didn’t answer, but he looked away seeming guilty.
“Can you help her?” he asked the stranger.
“I don’t know. But I can’t do anything with my hands behind my back.”
Smokes stared at her, uneasy, but she couldn’t
read him. She coughed again, and just before he looked away, she felt his eyes soften. Just a touch, at the corners. Like maybe… like maybe he cared.
Stalking across the room, he gripped the other man’s shoulder and roughly turned him. Janet could see the man’s wrists had been bound tightly with rope. Damn, she knew how bad that could hurt, the rough threads grinding their way into your skin with every slight movement. Every minute breath. And for a moment she was angry that Smokes had done it. But then she realized, she didn’t know a thing about the stranger. Maybe he deserved to be tied up.
Smokes loosened the rope until the man’s hands were free and then turned him back around, getting in his face to growl out a warning. “You make one wrong move, you hurt her in any way, and I will end you. Got it?”
The other man glared. “I understand. Now get out of my way.”
There was a tense moment before Smokes stepped aside and the man walked forward, rubbing the feeling back into his wrists. He stopped by the bed, staring down at Janet.
“I’m Dr. Gregory.” He said the words like he was pulling on a favorite hat. Like he’d flipped a switch, igniting his professionalism. “I’m going to try to help you, but I don’t know where to begin. So you will have to answer some questions.”
Janet nodded and wrapped her arms around her middle, willing her stomach to cooperate. Dr. Gregory noticed the action.
“You’re nauseated.”
“Yes.”
“When did you last eat?”
“She can’t keep anything down,” Smokes explained. “Not even water.”
The doctor frowned. “May I feel your forehead?”
Janet nodded and he pressed the back of his fingers to her clammy skin.
“No fever,” he murmured. “I’m going to palpate your abdomen.”
She tried not to tense as his fingers probed beneath her ribs. She ground her molars tight, and made her mind go elsewhere. This wasn’t another john touching her. It was a doctor, and he was trying to help.
He froze just under her belly button and she realized it was because there was a furious sound coming from Smokes. A deep threatening snarl that he seemed unaware of until the doctor turned to look at him.
The noise cut off as he lowered his gaze to the floor, fists clenched at his sides. Dr. Gregory found her eyes again. “I need to ask you something… private.”
“Okay.”
“Something you might not want anyone to hear,” he all but whispered, tipping his head slightly toward Smokes.
Oh. Well, he already knew things she’d rather him not. So whatever the doc wanted to know wouldn’t make anything worse.
“He’s fine,” she rasped, swallowing down the way her gut lurched.
Dr. Gregory gave a small nod. “Are you pregnant?”
Her gaze went to Smokes. He still stared at the floor but he was so tense, she could probably tip him over with nothing more than a breath. His head didn’t move, but his eyes flicked up to meet hers through the curtain of his hair.
“I… I think so,” she answered.
“You think so. When was your last period?”
Last period… god, she hadn’t had a period in ages. How many years had she been working for Bastian? It was a few months after that when he’d starved her enough and loaded her up with birth control.
“I haven’t had a normal cycle for years.”
“How come? Have you been diagnosed with a condition? Birth control? When was your last checkup?”
Janet shook her head. “No doctor. Nothing.”
“You haven’t been to a doctor?”
She confirmed it with another shake.
Dr. Gregory scowled, saying nothing for several breaths. “Have you taken a test?”
“Yes,” Smokes answered for her. “Seven of them, to be exact.”
The doctor’s eyebrow lifted. “Seven. And they were all positive?”
“Yes,” Janet whispered.
Dr. Gregory blew out a hard breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Pregnant, nauseated. Fundus measures about fifteen weeks… how long have you been sick?”
“Forever.” It was hardly a lie. She had the weakest stomach known to man. But only since becoming a toy for the former Lord of Memphis to work to his advantage. Before that she was normal. Whatever that word meant. “It’s gotten worse though, in the past few weeks.”
The doctor eyed her suspiciously, but then seemed to make a decision.
He turned to Smokes. “She should be in a hospital. Immediately.”
“No!” Janet cried. “I’m okay. It will pass. It’s—” A hard gag had her sputtering, and the doctor moved fast to reach for a trashcan, shoving it under her face as she leaned over the side of the bed to vomit saliva and stomach acid.
Who was she kidding? She was only getting worse.
She needed help, but she couldn’t imagine leaving the warehouse to get it. All the questions she’d have to answer, about her history and her confinement and…
No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
Not even for the small thing that grew inside her.
She’d rather die.
Chapter Four
Smokes paced the room while Dr. Gregory helped Janet. Over and over, she heaved, nothing coming out. She groaned and hacked while tears leaked from her eyes. And it made him want to fucking punch something. What good was he as a mate if he couldn’t ease her?
You got her the doctor.
But it wasn’t enough. She needed a hospital. He’d known it all along.
Shit.
With a whimper, Janet fell back to the bed, limp with her efforts. Her eyes floated around the room like they were having trouble focusing. “No hospital,” she whispered, her gaze finally finding Smokes.
He came closer to the bed making it easier for her to see him. Shit, she appeared even sicker than when he’d found her in the bathroom. She looked… fuck, she looked like death. Worse than she had the night they’d rescued her from Bastian’s dungeon.
“No hospital… please…” she urged.
Smokes was helpless to deny her anything when she was so broken. How could he? No, he would figure out how to do this her way.
He gave a hard nod. “Okay, female.”
Janet closed her eyes in relief and for a strange moment, he felt it too. Relief. He’d finally done something to ease her. Even if it was a small thing, it mattered.
“At the hospital, I can run tests, do an ultrasound, get her the fluids she needs. She’s at risk for dehydration,” Dr. Gregory argued. “It’s dangerous for me to treat her here—”
“It’s dangerous for you not to,” Smokes snarled. “Find a fucking way. Because she’s not going anywhere.”
But the doc wasn’t backing down. “You’re risking her life.”
His words gave Smokes pause. Was the man telling the truth? Was mate’s life in danger?
The mere thought hit his sternum like a wrecking ball. Nothing could happen to her. It was his whole entire purpose now to keep her safe, and he was going to do it.
His hand darted out to fist the doctor’s fancy suit jacket, and he dragged the man half across Janet’s bed until they were eye to eye. “Don’t play games with me. You have resources. You find a way to treat her here, in the comfort of her own goddamned room. And you don’t ask unnecessary questions, understand.” He’d noticed the way Janet flinched when the doc asked her about her history. Like his probing hurt her. There’d be no more of that. “You find a way,” Smokes warned, “or you’ll find yourself regretting you were ever born.”
He released the doctor with a shove and the man caught himself on the corner of the bed. And he had a steel set of balls, this one did. Because he never broke eye contact with Smokes. He never even flinched at the implication of bodily harm.
It figured. Smokes had gone in looking for the best doctor he could find. Some nerdy brilliant thing who could take good care of Janet. Instead, he came away with Doogie Badass who could probably deadlift 400 pounds with
his dick alone.
“I might be able to pull some strings. It won’t be easy. And it definitely puts my job in jeopardy. But I guess, if you’re to be believed, my life is already at risk.”
Good. He was paying attention.
“I’d rather lose my job and keep my life. That’s what you’re counting on, right?”
“Finally getting it, doc.”
Dr. Gregory sighed and moved his gaze to Janet who hadn’t opened her eyes.
“I can call in a leave of absence. I’ll tell them… something came up. An emergency. That will take care of my on-call hours. Shit, this is going to be a mess. Not that you fucking care,” he muttered. “I’m going to have to call someone to help us. To bring me supplies.”
“No. No one can know.”
Dr. Gregory cut him a hard look. “I need fluids, an IV, tools to do an exam. Possibly antibiotics. That means I need access to those things. I don’t have access if I’m on leave. I need help. This isn’t negotiable.”
Smokes knew the doc was right. Damn it, he couldn’t help Janet with just his bare hands.
“Fine. Do what you need to, but remember your ass is on the line here.”
Dr. Gregory scoffed. “You’ve been crystal clear on that, asshole.” He reached for his pocket and then stopped. “I need a phone. Mine was in my briefcase.”
“I’ll have someone collect it from the garage. But we can’t wait. Use mine.”
Smokes passed his cell to the man. “If you need supplies fast and under the radar… I know someone who might be able to help.” Skittles was handy when it came to getting things they shouldn’t be able to get.
The doc raised a questioning eyebrow.
“We have connections as well.” Smokes headed for the door. “You stay here. Make your phone calls. I’ll be back soon.”
He eased the door open, peeking around the side to make sure no one was around before he turned back to the doctor.
“If you use that phone to dial 911, you’ll be dead before they get here. Don’t test me.”
And with that, he shut the doctor in with his mate and went to find Skittles.
***
Logan Gregory stared at the door considering his options. There were none, really. Not because the big asshole threatened him either. But because in the bed, was a fragile woman who desperately needed his help.
