by Emma Slate
Flynn and I trailed down the hallway past the nurses’ station. I saw flashes of lightning through the large hospital windows of the lobby. Rumbling thunder outside had me running my hands up and down my arms.
Flynn pulled me to him, infusing me with some of his warmth. His lips brushed the top of my head. We were both still in shock over Malcolm’s sudden death; I hadn’t cried or reacted yet—there had been other things that needed immediate attention. Feelings could happen later.
“Do we have any idea who was behind the attack?” I asked gently.
Flynn shook his head. “Not at the moment.”
“Still no word from Ramsey?”
“None. I think you should go home and rest. Duncan won’t be out of surgery for hours and even then he might—he might not—”
“I’m staying,” I stated. “When we leave here, we’ll leave together.”
Flynn nodded absently as he rubbed a hand across his exhausted face. “I have to see to the funeral arrangements.”
“Let me handle it,” I said.
“Really?”
I nodded. “Ash isn’t in a place to step up and you have other things to worry about.”
He leaned down to kiss me softly on the lips. “What would I do without you?”
“Don’t even think about that.”
Flynn glanced out the window, his blue eyes a bit dazed. “He’s gone.”
“Yes,” I said, my throat thickening with emotion. I shoved my feelings down—they weren’t important at the moment. Flynn had lost the man he considered a father. Malcolm had raised him, given him a home. And now he was gone.
Duncan, his brother in all ways but blood, was in surgery and might not make it.
I took Flynn’s hand and tugged on it so that he was forced to look at me. “You’re going to find out who did this, and then you’re going to make them pay.”
“Aye,” he said, nodding slowly.
“Revenge.”
His jaw clenched. “Aye. Revenge.”
A few hours later, the doctor came to give us an update about Duncan. He survived surgery but was still in critical condition. The doctor had no way of knowing if Duncan would wake up and told us to all go home and get some rest. Ash looked like a shrunken, muted form of her usual self. Her hair was flat, coming down from its pins, and she had mascara streaks underneath her eyes. She wanted to stay at the hospital, but Jack and I finally managed to convince her to leave.
Flynn and I made it to the car, collapsing in exhaustion and dozing the entire ride home as weak sunlight leaked through the windows. Just as the car stopped outside our home, Flynn’s cell phone rang.
Ramsey.
Flynn didn’t want to tell him over the phone that his father had died from a bullet to the head and that his brother was in critical condition.
“He’s coming over,” Flynn said, hanging up.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t heard the news yet. All he has to do is listen to one of his dozen voicemails.”
“I can barely think straight,” he muttered. He opened the front door and the first thing I did when I got inside was kick off my heels. They weren’t painful under normal circumstances, but my already swollen feet hadn’t enjoyed them the past many hours.
“I’ll make us some food,” I said.
“I’m not hungry, hen, but thank you. I have some calls to make before Ramsey gets here.” He kissed me briefly and then disappeared into his study, leaving the door cracked.
I went into the kitchen to rustle up some food. As I whisked eggs, I mentally made a list of all the things I’d have to take care of for Malcolm’s funeral. It would be at Dornoch Cathedral, which sat in the center of town. Malcolm had been a pillar of the community and people would want to pay their respects. Flynn needed to make a list of guests he wanted to invite. Outside of the SINS members, I didn’t know who else would want to pay their respects.
Maybe it was better if outsiders didn’t know about Malcolm’s death. The SINS were in a precarious situation. Their leader was dead and the heir apparent in critical condition. I knew Ramsey well enough to know that he wasn’t prepared to step into the leadership position if it should fall to him. Flynn continued to hold a substantial role in the SINS and when he’d lived in New York, he’d operated autonomously, independently of Malcolm because Malcolm had trusted him.
I sat down to eat and fell asleep on my plate. Jarred awake by the doorbell, I groaned and reached for a napkin. I dabbed at my cheeks and went to answer the door, but Flynn had beaten me to it.
Ramsey looked disheveled and confused, but the moment he saw the grimness of Flynn’s face, he realized something was wrong.
“Just tell me,” he said before the front door had even closed.
“Let’s have a drink,” Flynn suggested.
“It’s eight in the morning.”
“When has that ever stopped you?” Flynn led Ramsey to the study and then shut the door.
I didn’t wait around to overhear Ramsey’s reaction. Too tired to function, I trudged up the stairs, knowing I needed at least a few hours of sleep before I could do anything else. I fell into bed and slept. I didn’t even dream.
The following morning, Flynn got a call that Duncan was awake. Flynn hopped in the shower and then left quickly. I stayed at home so I could prepare Malcolm’s funeral. Flynn and I decided that it would be a small, family affair, but that still included some two hundred people. Coordinating could’ve been a real bitch, but when you had money, it took care of all indiscriminate details. And it took care of them fast.
A few hours later, I was finishing up the last of the funeral arrangements when Ash called.
“Hi, how are you, what can I do?” I asked immediately before she could say anything.
She let out a soft laugh. I could hear the relief in it. “Nothing. I just saw Flynn—he said you’re taking care of Malcolm’s funeral. I was calling to ask what I could do for you.”
“It’s almost done. So you don’t have to do anything except focus on Duncan. How is he? Inane question, I know.”
“He’s okay, I guess. I mean, he woke up today, which—thank God—is a good sign. But on top of healing from a gunshot wound, he has to deal with burying his father. Do you know what happened? Who came after them?”
“I know nothing,” I stated.
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry, Ash,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
“This is the life, right?”
“Yes.”
We fell silent, and I wondered if Ash was reevaluating everything. It was one thing to know your life, the people you loved, the man you were marrying, were going to be in constant danger and that anything could happen. It was another to have your fiancé mowed down at your rehearsal dinner the night before your wedding.
“Oh, shit,” I said. “I didn’t even think about the wedding.”
“Postponed until he’s well enough to stand at an altar in a kilt.”
I laughed. “So glad to hear that. Your parents? Jack?”
“They’ll stick around until I get Duncan home. Hopefully that will only be for about a week, and then they’ll leave.” She sighed. “What’s going to happen? With the SINS?”
“I don’t know, Ash.”
“I love Ramsey, but he’s not—”
“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on Duncan.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
We hung up and I paused, suddenly feeling like I was able to breathe a bit easier. I finished making the rest of the funeral arrangements before moving into the living room and curling up on the couch to wait for Flynn. As night descended, Flynn walked through the front door. Contentedly warm from the gas fireplace, I gave him a sleepy look. He lifted my legs and sat down on the couch before resettling me.
“You look tired, love,” I commented.
“You’re supposed to tell me I look handsome,” he teased with a wan smile.
“You are handsome—bu
t you also look tired.”
“I’m exhausted,” he admitted. “And sad.”
“Yeah,” I said, having no words of comfort, emotion constricting my throat. “I finished the funeral arrangements.”
“Thank you.” His hand stroked my ankle. “You always make everything better.”
“I only wish I could do more,” I told him truthfully.
He placed his palm to my belly, which I swore looked even bigger than it had a few hours ago. Maybe it was the angle I was looking at it from.
“I have to talk to you about something,” he said.
“All right.”
Flynn looked at the fireplace, flame reflections flickering in his eyes. “I’ve spoken to Duncan and Ramsey, and they both agree that I should be acting leader of the SINS. At least until Duncan is on the mend and able to take over the job.” He glanced at me. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I had a feeling it would come to this. You’re a natural leader, Flynn.”
He let out a sigh of relief. “It means more time away from home. Especially now that we have an unknown enemy.”
“Is it really unknown?” I struggled to sit up and Flynn helped me. “Can’t we narrow it down? Start with a short list or something?”
“I have some people on it.”
That was Flynn code for ‘you don’t really want to know what that means’. I let it go because it wasn’t important. The only thing that was important was discovering who had wanted to shake up the SINS.
“So, in the mean time…” I asked.
“In the mean time we wait. We remain patient.” His jaw clenched. “And we tighten security.”
Chapter 6
I sat in the front pew of Dornoch Cathedral and listened to Father Brooks drone on in an indecipherable Scottish brogue while he eulogized Malcolm. Duncan was, of course, absent, but Ash sat on one side of me and Flynn sat on the other.
Ramsey sat next to Flynn. He looked both solemn and angry, the lines around his mouth white with tension. I’d only seen Ramsey in good humor, but he belonged to the SINS, so I knew he had the courage, strength, and stomach for the cause.
When Father Brooks finished, Ramsey, Flynn, Brad and three other men went to the front of the cathedral to Malcolm’s coffin. As the processional began, the sounds of bagpipes filtered through the cathedral.
I saw Ash grimace and glared at her. Tradition was important and if she was going to be the wife of the SINS leader, then she needed to get with the program.
We buried Malcolm under a gray sky. A light drizzle began to fall and people opened their umbrellas. I stood next to Flynn, trying to hold in my discomfort. My back ached, and I wanted nothing more than to take a nap, but we were hosting the gathering at our house after the funeral. I would have to play hostess, make sure everyone was taken care of, and it would be several hours until we were alone.
The drizzle turned into a downpour. Father Brooks didn’t appear like he’d even noticed; such was the weather in Scotland. The bagpipes stopped, and we all rushed to our cars with the promise of congregating in a warm, dry place.
“Careful, hen,” Flynn warned as I nearly lost my footing on the slick stone walkway.
“What is it with you Scots?” I demanded. “Ever hear of cement?”
Flynn flashed me an amused smile. I stopped walking, forcing him to stop, too. My brow furrowed and my hand went to my back.
“Love? What is it?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just a slight crick.”
He didn’t look convinced. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Come on, let’s go.”
I eased into the back seat of the Rolls, adjusting my body, but the pain had already eased. I was convinced it was nothing more than Braxton Hicks and not the real deal. As the car drove away from the cathedral, I felt a popping sensation, followed by a gush between my legs. An involuntary squeak escaped my mouth.
Flynn looked over at me, his face registering surprise and a bit of shock. “Hospital!” he shouted at the driver. “Now!”
Our son was born eighteen hours later and weighed in at 7.5 lbs. I was beyond exhausted, but so completely happy despite everything going on around us. My body released a flood of hormones and I alternated between wanting to sleep and wanting to cry. Watching Flynn cradle his newborn son in his arms filled a piece of my heart I didn’t even know was empty.
“Well, hen,” Flynn asked me quietly. “We’ve got to pick a name.”
“So we do,” I murmured.
“How do you feel about the name Gavin?”
“For your Da?” I asked.
He nodded. “And Malcolm? As a middle name.”
“Gavin Malcolm Campbell,” I said, trying out the sound of it.
“Gavin means ‘white hawk’ in Gaelic. We could call him Hawk. If you’d like.” He smiled softly. “He looks like a Hawk.”
“Yes,” I said simply.
He gently placed Hawk in my arms and stared down at me before kissing me softly on the lips. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I said back.
Hawk and I slept for a little while before Flynn let Ash in to visit. She only stayed for a quick moment, wanting to get back to Duncan’s side, but she was quite effusive with her praise of her godson.
At the moment, nothing mattered except for the tiny bundle in my arms. We had started this day with a funeral and we were ending it with a birth. Such was the cycle of life.
On the day we took Hawk home, we stopped by Duncan’s hospital room to show him off. It revived Duncan’s spirits and gave him a bit of excitement. He was already sick of being stuck in a hospital bed and wanted to get home.
“Patience, brother,” Flynn said, setting his hand on Duncan’s shoulder.
“Patience?” Duncan growled. “My father is dead. We have enemies—”
“I’m aware, but you’re no use to us and our cause if you kill yourself trying to get up and around before you’re ready.”
Duncan leaned back against the pillow, exhaustion and anger warring with each other. “I’m the best tracker we have.”
“I’ll keep you informed,” Flynn promised. “I need to get Barrett and Hawk home. Rest.”
I leaned over and kissed Duncan on the cheek. “I hate feeling useless, too.”
“You’re not useless,” Duncan insisted. “You’re a mother.”
“But there was a time, not too long ago, that I was useful in other ways.”
“You’re still a mastermind,” Flynn said.
“Thank you, love,” I said with a tired grin.
I bundled up Hawk next to my body before leaving the hospital. It was cold, but surprisingly devoid of rain for the moment. Flynn helped me into the back of the Rolls. I strapped Hawk into his car seat, and Flynn ordered our driver to take it slow on the way home. A twenty minute drive was going to take twice as long. Not that I cared; I was already learning that I could doze whenever, wherever.
“I have to go to London in a few days,” Flynn said.
“Issue with the hotel?” I asked.
“No. I have a meeting with Lord Henry Arlington.”
I frowned. “You’ve never mentioned him, have you?”
Flynn shook his head. “No. He’s in the House of Lords and he keeps me informed.”
“Ah,” I said in understanding. “Lord Arlington is on the SINS payroll?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Uh huh. And are you meeting at the London Rex?”
“We are.”
“And are you going to show him a good time?”
“Aye. Ply him with liquor and introduce him to gorgeous women.”
“Hmmm.”
“The man is married to the coldest woman I have ever met. I’m just trying to give him some joy.”
“Right, by promoting infidelity.”
“Divorce in his circle isn’t really an option. Besides, most men of power keep mistresses.”
I looked over at him, the car seat strapped between us.
“Do you really want to be having this discussion after I just gave birth to your child?”
Flynn’s lips quirked with amusement. “Valid point, love. However, I would like to say that most men don’t have wives like you.”
“That’s true. I am in a class above the rest,” I joked.
“You are,” he said, sobering. “You would do anything to protect me. You’ve already proven that. I’d be an idiot to jeopardize that.”
“Knowing and doing are two different things,” I warned.
“Noted.” He smiled softly. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
“What?”
“I didn’t think it was possible to find you more beautiful, but I do.”
I sighed, feeling strangely content in the moment. I was insulated in a bubble of new motherhood. “I trust you, Flynn. And I’ll be here when you come home. We both will.” My finger trailed down Hawk’s cheek. There was nothing softer than baby skin, all perfect and unsullied.
Flynn didn’t need the added guilt of leaving his newborn son and me while he tended to SINS business. But that was the life. I was a warrior’s wife, waiting for my husband to come home. One day, he might not walk through the front door—it was terrifying and if I thought too much about it, I began to panic. So I didn’t think about it often. When I did, I liked to be alone.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For?”
“You want me to go down the list?”
I smiled. “Please.”
He laughed. “It would take too long. Besides, we’re finally home.”
“Your son hates me,” I said to Flynn over the phone.
Flynn chuckled. “Not possible.”
“Ever since you’ve been gone, he’s been fussy and refuses to sleep more than an hour at a time.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to make me feel guilty so I’ll come home sooner, would you?”
“Is it working?”
“Yes.”
I sighed. “Sorry. I just miss you.”
“There are worse things in the world than having your wife miss you. How are you, really? Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not overwhelmed? I left you alone and—”
