by Amy Gamet
He had grabbed her upper arms. "Listen to me, Jessa. He's hurt. Shot. The ambulance is on its way, but you’re a nurse. He needs your help."
She ran behind Cowboy up the stairs, the acrid smell of gunpowder polluting the air. "What happened to the other guy?"
“One tango down. That's the good news. But another one got away somewhere on the mountain.”
They rounded the corner to the bedroom, and Jessa was struck by how much had changed since the last time she walked down this hallway.
He's going to be okay.
But even as she told herself that, she was back in her little yellow house and her happy little life as a wife and soon-to-be mother, her mouth open wide in horror as Jax told her Ralph had been killed. Her tongue had tasted like metal and blood rushed in her ears. The two moments melded together in her mind.
They entered the bedroom, Jax on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
Too much blood for anyone to survive.
She moved to kneel beside him, and Cowboy held out his hand to stop her. "Watch yourself, there's glass." He grabbed a pillow off the bed and handed it to her. She put it on the ground and kneeled on it.
Jax’s face was so pale, so unlike his normal complexion. She put her hand on his neck and felt for a pulse. Forty.
His pulse was fucking forty.
The sound of a siren in the distance made the moment more surreal, as if the ambulance would never actually get here but would always be too far away. Too late to save Ralph. Too late to save Jax. She took his arm and pulled him onto his side, lifting his shirt in the back. Blood oozed from his wound.
"I need a clean towel or shirt, something."
Cowboy handed her a towel, which she pressed to Jax’s back. "Press this here, firmly. Keep the blood from coming out," she said. She stood on shaking legs and ran to get a blanket to cover him with.
Jax was on the floor bleeding to death. Jax was standing in front of her, telling her Ralph was dead. If Jax was dead, then she was dead. The baby…
An alarm went off on the monitor next to the bed, snapping her attention back to the present. What the hell was the matter with her? Was that a panic attack?
She reached for Jax’s hand and stared at his too-still face while a nurse came in and replaced his IV. His color was better, but that wasn't saying much.
"Matteo and Trevor were here earlier," she said, letting her fingers trace the lines on Jax’s knuckles. "You were still in surgery. Trevor and Olivia are engaged. Did you know that already? She seems nice. I never thought I'd see him so taken with a woman. Figures she’s a movie star.” She let go of his hand and stood up. “That lawyer from Boston stopped by while they were here. Fred Bach. He said he needed to speak to you and would be back in an hour or so to see if you were awake."
Her eyes fell on the metal railing along the side of the bed, and she wished she could lie down beside him. She longed to put her arms around his body, to wrap him up with healing energy and be as close to him as she possibly could. But it wasn't just the hospital rules that kept her from doing so.
If he awoke, would he be happy she was here? Had she read too much into the few things he said at the end of their night together?
My life will be better.
Did he mean that? And was he happy only about the baby, or about her as well?
“I hope you meant me, too,” she whispered.
But did she?
Did she really?
Already she’d almost lost him. She knew she couldn’t handle being half of a HERO Force couple again, always wondering if he was okay, always praying for his safe return, being gone more than he was ever with her.
She needed stability, normalcy, both for herself and the baby.
No matter what happens, this child will always have a HERO Force member for a father.
She wouldn’t be able to protect her baby from that fate. Her hand went to her abdomen, lightly stroking her growing belly. Cowboy’s words ran through her mind. Your kid couldn’t do better. But what good was the world’s greatest father if he was never around, or managed to get himself killed protecting other people?
She sighed and sat back in her chair. She picked the book up off the table, forcing herself to read. She couldn’t even finish one page.
“I hate this book. The story is stupid, and I can't figure out why anybody would pay money for this thing. I mean, who wants to read a book about an old rich family with no problems, anyway?" She moved to fold the book back over and, in the process, fanned the pages ever so slightly.
A picture appeared, a tiny and perfectly detailed little painting she recognized immediately. It was the mansion overlooking the ocean she had seen in the conference room of the lawyer’s office in Boston. Her mind whirled, working to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, knowing the answer was just a single turn of a piece away.
This book was intrinsically tied to the law firm.
She turned the volume around in her hands, seeing it in a new light. “This isn’t a stupid book with no plot. It’s a history of the Bach family.”
As in Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore.
"Oh my God," she whispered, now frantically flipping through pages, knowing exactly what she was looking for — an obscure reference to the newborn child of the family housekeeper, Señora Cortez. She found it on page eighty-nine.
“The babe wasn’t as round as Cortez’s other children but paler in flesh and longer in limb. Reggie Moore noted no difference and went on to law school in the spring.”
She closed the book and squeezed it against her chest. "I know who's trying to kill me."
Her eyes flew to the clock on the wall. The lawyer would be back any minute. Taking one last look at Jax, she prayed he would stay asleep and quickly ran from the room.
37
Jessa walked briskly through the hospital cafeteria, her eyes scanning for Cowboy or Logan. Neither one of them was here.
Dammit. What was she going to do now?
She pulled out her cell phone, wishing she still had the numbers for the HERO Force guys in her contacts. Fortunately, she still remembered the number for headquarters.
"I need to speak to Leo Wilson please. It's an emergency."
"Who's calling?"
"This is Jessa McConnell. Ralph McConnell's widow."
"I'm very sorry, Ms. McConnell, but you are not on the priority call list. I'm afraid I can't put you through."
Frustration and fear had Jessa clenching her fists. "You listen to me. I'm at the hospital where Jax Andersson is recovering, I've got a seriously bad dude trying to kill me, one man I love has already died for you people, and I'm pregnant with the baby of another one. Now you better damn well put me through to Cowboy this instant!"
Silence hung on the line between them. "Hang on, transferring you now."
Jessa was nearly back to the elevator and pressed the button as she listened to Cowboy's phone ring in her ear.
"Leo Wilson."
"Cowboy! It's Jessa. Where are you guys?" The elevator doors opened and she got on with a small crowd of people.
"Logan here ain't never tried fajitas, so we stopped by Sexy Hombre's for a skillet."
That restaurant was at least a quarter mile away. "I need you back here now. I know who's after me. It's all in the book. I figured it out, but now I don't know what the hell to do. Jax is still out cold and the bad guy lawyer is due back here any minute." She was aware of the curious glances she was receiving from other people in the elevator and turned her back to them.
"Go to the lobby," said Cowboy. "Stay where there are a lot of people. We’re on our way."
"Hurry, Leo. Please." She disconnected the call and turned back around. Her eye caught that of Fred Bach standing in the very back of the elevator, and her heart leapt in her chest. He was staring at her like a predator stared at its prey, and she knew he'd heard every word.
The elevator doors opened and two construction workers got on, further crowding the already packed space. Jax’s
room was on the top floor of the hospital. If she did nothing, the crowd would thin until the only people remaining in the car were her and the lawyer, the man who wanted her dead.
Just as the doors were closing, she dashed between them and out of the car. From the corner of her eye she could see the lawyer making a move, heard him say, “Excuse me," but it was too late. The elevator doors closed behind her and she looked around at what was clearly a construction zone.
She began a desperate search for escape. There had to be a staircase, another way out of the building, but everything was covered in giant sheets of plastic, an eerie green glow the only light on the floor.
She pushed at door after door looking for an exit. "Is anyone here? Please, somebody help me!"
The sound of plastic rustling in the distance stopped her cold. The hair on the back of her neck went up. She wasn't alone. She couldn’t head back to the elevator — that's where the noise came from. She could only go forward like a rat nearing the end of a maze.
A voice called out behind her. "I'm not going to hurt you, Maria. I just want the book. That's all."
Jessa was aware of the tap of her tennis shoes on the floor. She slipped them off and continued on in her socks. Even her breath was too loud. She pushed at this door and that, nearing the end of the hallway.
The very last door had two strips of yellow hazard tape across it, and it opened wide as she pushed it. Even though she was being careful, she nearly fell into the stairwell shaft. But the stairs were chipped out, their concrete and most of the steel supports missing, with only a few bars to hold the structure in place.
"The book has no value to you, Maria. It is only important to me. We can make a deal."
Jessa squeezed her eyes closed, swallowed against the knot in her throat. "What are you offering?" she asked. She was aware as she said the words they might be the last to escape her. If he had a gun, she would surely die here today. She reached up and pulled the hazard tape off the door.
Bach rounded the corner at the end of the hallway with a shuffle of plastic sheeting. They faced each other.
“Ten thousand dollars," he said. "An amount like that can change your life." He walked toward her, the click of his shoes ticking off the seconds until he reached her.
"I think one eighth of your law firm is worth a hell of a lot more than that. Don't you?"
He smiled affably. "What are you talking about?"
"It's all right here." She held up the book. "Señora Cortez's child was the son of Reggie Moore. Your grandfather, I assume?"
He didn't answer.
"Mine, too, it would seem."
"It's a simple story. It holds no legal weight." He took a step toward her. “Peter Hopewell can attest to its fiction.”
“Peter Hopewell?”
“The heir of Harold Hopewell’s estate.”
She backed up, close now to the empty stairwell. "What did that cost you, Bach? Did you even consider that a simple DNA test will show you and I are cousins?”
In three quick steps, he closed the distance between them. "Not if you're not around to take it."
Before she knew what he was about, his hands were around her neck, squeezing. She dropped the book. Hours of self-defense lessons with her husband came back to her in an instant. Clasping her hands together, she pushed them high through the circle made by her attacker’s arms, forcing his hands from her neck.
He grabbed her around her middle and kneed her in the belly, vicious pain robbing her of her breath before he hit her on the back of her neck, taking her down. Her mind screamed for her baby, begging her to protect her little one at all costs.
She rolled up like a pill bug, hugging her knees to her chest, and he kicked her in the back. Her defensive position didn't allow her to fight back. All she could think about was the stairwell.
She inched toward it.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"Let me go. I won't tell anyone about the book."
He laughed. "Too late for that now.” He kicked her again. "Get up."
If he was going to kill her, she had no reason to comply.
Protect your baby.
Keep this child safe.
She inched closer to the door. The book was only a foot away, and she reached for it.
He stepped on her hand and she cried out.
"Reading time is over," he said.
"You can't stand to see it in print, can you? Reggie Moore's illegitimate child screwing you over to this day."
He took his foot off her hand and squatted down beside her. "Not for long, Cortez. Your family should've stayed in the kitchen where they belonged." He stood back up, and she once again reached for the book. He kicked it away.
Jessa stared at it. It was mere inches from the door to the empty stairwell. She got up on her hands and knees and crawled toward it.
"You don't listen very well, do you?" He kicked her in her ribs, an audible crack making her wince as she gasped in pain.
She had no weapons. No way to defend herself.
Nothing except the empty stairwell.
She continued to crawl. When she was four feet away, he began to laugh.
She crawled, the pain of her broken rib stabbing her in the side with every movement of her torso.
He stepped in front of her and bent down to pick up the book. She lunged for him, forcing her body upright and driving him into the doorway like a football player.
He fell sideways and cursed, working to get his balance before he realized what she had done. His scream echoed in the stairwell until he landed with a disturbing crack.
Jessa fell back to the ground, curling back into her ball, nothing but pain surrounding her, and waited for Cowboy and Logan to discover her location.
38
Jax stood in the hallway of the maternity ward, his eyes fixed on Jessa through the open doorway to her hospital room. He should've been there, dammit. He'd put her in harm’s way without even realizing it. She might even have died.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Andersson," said the doctor, some young medical student who'd done his best to explain placental abruption. In the end, all that mattered was they were losing the baby.
Cowboy thanked the doctor for the information, but Jax didn't have any words.
He walked into her room and sat down beside the bed. The machine was beeping and he stared at it, not comprehending for a moment. Two heartbeats. Hers and the baby's.
Jesus.
Were they just supposed to sit here and listen to it die?
Jessa opened her eyes and reached for his hand. He held it in his own, his thumb gently rubbing her skin. "What did the doctor say?" she asked.
"He said you need to get your sleep."
"The baby, Jax. How is the baby doing?"
His eyes locked with hers, the horrible truth needing no words to be conveyed.
"He's wrong, Jax! I can feel the baby kicking. Our baby is alive."
He nodded, tears falling onto his cheeks as he moved his head. "Yes. But the placenta is coming off the uterine wall. He said there's a chance it might stop, but in all likelihood—"
"I'm going to lose the baby." Her eyes glistened, but she did not cry. She moved over. "Come and lie next to me. Just be careful of my ribs.” She lifted the covers for him to climb in beside her, and Jax knew he had never experienced such great happiness or sorrow.
She settled her head in the crook of his arm and placed his hand on her stomach beneath her hospital gown.
His tears were coming freely now, rolling down his cheeks and into her hair. He kissed her forehead. A tiny movement beneath his hand made him jump.
"You felt that?" she asked.
"Yes."
"She's a fighter, our daughter. Don't count her out just yet."
Their daughter. Their little girl. It was too much to image she might die, and he felt a renewed sympathy for losses Jessa had already sustained.
Please, God, let us keep this baby.
Jax fell a
sleep in Jessa's bed, listening to the monitor beat in time to their daughter's heart and wondering if he’d ever have the chance to hold her in his arms.
39
Jax stood at the window of Jessa’s darkened hospital room, staring at the lights of the city below, a stray tear falling down his cheek. The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on him, the slowing of his daughter’s heartbeat at the very moment he realized two very important things.
He would be a good father, capable of showing emotion, and he loved his child’s mother with all his heart.
He didn’t deserve either one of them, but for this moment in time, they were here. He turned around and stared at Jessa sleeping in the bed, her pregnancy hidden by the bedcovers. But there was a baby inside her—he’d felt her kick—and it was a child they had made together. For his part, that baby came from love.
Moving to the chair beside her bed, he sat down and rested his head on the cold metal bed rail. “I love you, Jessa,” he whispered, knowing it had always been true and not even her deception could take that away.
“And I love you, baby.”
The monitor that was beeping over his head beat quickly twice. Jax’s head shot up and he stared at the screen, the little double heartbeat now a scratch on the screen. And in that silly moment that didn’t mean anything, Jax knew deep in his heart that their baby would be okay.
The tears that had been dribbling from his eyes welled up freely, spilling over as joy coursed through him. He reached for Jessa’s hand, clenching it tightly. She’d never doubted, not for a moment.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said.
Thank you.
An image appeared in his mind. He was holding his tiny baby girl in his arms with Jessa by his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
He exhaled a shuddering breath. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
40
