by Joey W. Hill
“So…did Matt make you come with me today?”
She looked back down. Savannah had gritted out the words, though she appeared to be concentrating for all she was worth on something deep inside of her. Though she’d never been one comfortable with intimate gestures, intuition had Janet stroking the woman’s hair back, then locking her hand with hers once again, all while keeping the other hand busy pressing the compress between Savannah’s legs.
“No. You gave me the perfect opportunity to make my move with Max. I was just about to jump him in the front seat before you interrupted us.”
“Damn it, I thought it was my day to jump him. Dana shouldn’t have all the fun.” Savannah gave her a grimace that passed as a smile, then she jacked forward over Janet’s hand “Oh…”
“Hold on, honey. You make any noise that helps.”
Savannah shook her head, but the moans kept vibrating in her throat. Janet hummed the lullaby, rocking with Savannah, tiny movements that might help mitigate the pain, but not nearly enough.
“Dr. Rosen’s on the other line,” Randall barked through the speakers, because Max had kept the connection open with him. “She wants to know—”
“She’s bleeding badly, and her stomach is still hard. The pain is constant, going on six minutes now.”
Janet leaned forward to be sure Randall could hear her. The coat was getting heavier, telling Janet blood was soaking it. She could feel it trickling down her arm. When Max’s eyes coursed over her bloody blouse, his expression reflected her own reaction. “Fuck,” he muttered.
She heard garbled voices, Randall communicating with the doctor on another line, then he was back. “Max, where are you?”
Janet saw the GPS had realized what kind of driver it had. The ETA was now ten minutes out, even though for a normal driver it would be twenty. Max merged onto the interstate, the limo shooting into the middle lane. As he did, the speedometer tipped past a hundred. Janet was aware of the cars flashing by outside, but that wasn’t her concern. Everything was blood and pain, Savannah gasping.
“About eight to ten minutes,” Max responded.
“What—” Randall began.
“Matt…” Savannah’s cry of agony blasted through the limo, bringing the security chief up short. Randall’s stomach had probably jumped into his throat, same as Janet’s had.
“Has Matt been called?” Janet asked sharply, squeezing Savannah’s leg. Hold on, honey…
“He was already on his way back. He left the meeting early. He’s about thirty minutes away. Don’t crash into each other in the hospital parking lot.”
“He knew… Janet…”
“Of course he did. The man’s omniscient. You know that. It’s okay. It’s okay. You just focus on breathing, and getting you and that baby there. Dr. Rosen will make it right. Matt put the best baby doctor on the Eastern seaboard up in a penthouse apartment, just for you. Remember? He’s not going to let anything happen to this child, or to you. Savannah.”
Janet sharpened her tone, bringing Savannah’s attention back to her. “He takes care of you. You’re his. He’d expect you to remember that.”
It was something they never talked about directly, but of course Janet knew that Matt Kensington was a sexual Dominant. All five of the K&A top management team were. Their wives, including Savannah, were strong, fascinating and accomplished women, and every one of them was her respective Master’s submissive soulmate. Now, in this moment, where pain threatened to take away Savannah’s strength and courage, Janet reminded her she’d surrendered herself to Matt Kensington, trusting him utterly.
Mission accomplished. Savannah’s blue eyes flickered as if Janet had thrown her a lifeline. The pregnant woman was wearing the delicate collar he’d given her, and her fingers went to it now, bloodying the rose quartz and silver. Her eyes closed against the pain, but the words she spoke were fierce.
“I won’t let him down. I won’t let either of them down.”
“He knows that. They both do. We’ve got you. You keep thinking about that, honey.”
Savannah’s eyes opened once more. Janet saw the strength of character that either impressed or scared the hell out of everyone who met Matt’s wife. “I’m going to fight, Janet, but if something happens, you tell them to save this little girl.”
“I will, but a baby needs a mother. You fight, honey. Fight like you’ve never fought before. You survived over thirty years with that brute of a father of yours. This is a piece of cake.”
“You always…know…so much. I’m glad Matt…has you.” Savannah’s head jerked back abruptly, her body contorting.
“I’m here, I’m here.” Janet clung to her. “You listen to me. I’m not taking your place, I can damn sure tell you that. Working for him’s bad enough. Doesn’t matter how much money he has or what he can do to a woman with his dick. So you better not go anywhere.”
Savannah was well beyond smiling, but Janet’s resort to the shocking language made her strangle on a chuckle. “Can’t wait…to tell…him you said that.”
“I’ll deny it. Tell him you were delirious.” Glancing up, Janet was relieved to see the hospital sign flash by. The limo skidded to a halt at the emergency entrance. Underlining how serious the situation was, Dr. Rosen was already waiting with a gurney and a small army of medical personnel.
Before Max had brought the limo to a full halt, the ob-gyn surgeon had her hand on the door handle. Janet backed up, squeezing Savannah’s hand with one last reassurance before the medical staff swarmed into the limo like ants. She found the door behind her open, Max helping her out of the way, his hand on her elbow. He had his eyes fastened on what they were doing, the shocking pool of blood on the seat and floor.
Seeing it herself, her knees started to wobble. No, she couldn’t do that. She had to listen to what they were saying, do what needed to be done, be ready to tell Matt everything he needed to know when he arrived. There would be paperwork to handle inside, because there always was. Most important, she needed to stay as close to Savannah as she could, as long as they would let her.
“Go with her,” Max said, reading her mind as the medical team got Savannah out of the limo. “I’ll park and come find you. I’ll take care of everything. Go.”
She nodded, following the gurney and Dr. Rosen. His sudden absence felt like an amputation, as if what had happened in the limo had fused them together. Savannah was whisked away, the staff headed for the surgical wing. It left Janet swaying in front of the ER admitting desk. The stout, silver-haired nurse she faced looked like she regularly handled the worst that NOLA could deliver. Now she gave Janet a once-over. “Let’s get the basics, then we’ll get you some scrubs and a sink.”
Janet glanced down. Things had gone far beyond that initial smear to her blouse. She was soaked in Savannah’s blood. On her clothes, her hands and arms. It was probably even smeared on her face. Oh God, if Matt…
“Janet.”
She closed her eyes. Damn the man’s timing. Giving the nurse a look she hoped conveyed the possible need for a second gurney, she turned to face Matt as he came through the emergency doors. Had he conjured a winged horse to get here right on Max’s heels? It wouldn’t surprise her if he had. Matt Kensington’s abilities exceeded that of a mortal man’s. Most of the time.
His piercing gaze took in her appearance. In the next moment, Matt Kensington turned pale as a ghost, his face gripped with an anguish and fear that tore her heart from its framework.
Once, a long time ago, Matt Kensington had stood between Janet and the loss of her soul. She’d do everything she could to return the favor now. Fight like a tiger, honey. Fight for him, because he needs you so much more than you realize. And we all need him.
Or maybe Savannah did realize it. The way she’d looked at Janet, her gaze practically boring into her. I’m glad Matt has you.
Closing the distance between them, she put her hands on Matt’s forearms, despite the blood she transferred to his white shirt. He’d shed his jacket and t
ie in the car. In that uncertain moment before she spoke, when he didn’t yet know what had happened, she thought she might be holding him up.
“They took her to surgery. The uterus wall detached, Matt. They have to operate now to save her and the baby.”
* * * * *
In certain situations, time really had no meaning. It was simply one task after another, lined up to keep the cold knot of fear at bay, the knowledge that everything might be brought to a screeching halt by a doctor’s somber face, the resigned gaze. By the time she and Matt were in the surgery waiting room, Max had joined them. With barely a glance, Max understood what she needed. He sat down with Matt, beginning to relay additional details in that direct way that helped her usually unflappable boss. Information. Men always thought it could help solve things, change them.
Max had pressed her cell phone into her hand, along with her hands-free earpiece. When he did, he’d tightened his fingers on her briefly. She kept him and Matt in her sight but out of hearing range as she started her list of calls. Matt hadn’t given her any guidance, but then he rarely had to do so for any situation. She wouldn’t be seeking any for this one. Now that the initial shock was wearing off, he was practically vibrating with suppressed fury and frustration. Savannah and his child were behind a closed door somewhere, going through an indescribable trauma, yet he couldn’t help them, couldn’t be at their side.
Her first call was the most important, yet the one she hoped would be least necessary. “Yes, may I speak to Reverend Dana? Thanks… Dana, this is Janet. Savannah’s in surgery. Something went wrong.” When her voice quavered, she stopped herself, forced it to calm before continuing. “You need to come right away. Matt may need you. I’ll have Randall send a car. Call Jon and have him come straight to the hospital as well.”
Dana would call all of them, all four of Matt’s executive team and their wives, not just Jon. However, if the worst happened, Dana and Jon were the ones Matt would need most. The worst simply couldn’t happen, however. Janet refused to accept that. She thought of Savannah’s jaw firming, the determination in the pain-racked features. She would fight. No matter her pain, no matter her exhaustion, angels would have to drag Savannah Kensington’s soul screaming from that room to take her away from the child and husband she loved so much.
“Ma’am?” She turned to see an orderly, a gentle black giant with the brown eyes of a deer, standing by her. He held a set of scrubs and a pair of disposable booties. It was the first time she realized she was walking around in her stockings.
“You look like a size small to me,” he said kindly, indicating the scrubs, “but I brought a medium as well, just in case.”
He directed her to the bathroom, fortunately placed right across from the waiting room. Max acknowledged her gesture, letting him know where she’d be, then she disappeared behind the wooden door.
She knew it was a mistake, but after she closed the door, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror. With the next breath, she was somewhere else entirely.
Another bathroom, very different from this sterile environment. There’d been a gilt-edged mirror, gold fixtures, a marble floor and countertops, but blood didn’t care about such things. She’d had it in her hair but hadn’t remembered when it had gotten there. It had also splattered across her face. She remembered that. That was what happened when you hit an artery. She’d stood in the bathroom, holding the knife and meat cleaver in her hands. For endless moments, she’d simply stared at them. The rage that had kept her going, made her incapable of stopping, was draining from her like blood itself. Her legs ached, an incomprehensible irony…and vindication.
No. Stop it. That’s over and done. No time for that shit right now.
“Janet.”
She came back to the present like she’d been shot, with a jerk and wide, staring eyes. Max was standing right behind her. She hadn’t locked the bathroom door. She’d pulled off the shirt, was standing there in her lace bra and her skirt, her stockings. The blood had soaked through the thin blouse, so she had a stain on one of the bra cups. Fortunately, he’d closed the door behind them so passersby couldn’t see her. Or Matt.
“Matt…”
“Lucas just got here. He’s with him. Apparently the meeting finished earlier than expected. They’re all headed back into New Orleans now.”
She was still gripping the sink, and the blood had created pale pink rivulets on the white tile. “Okay. All right.”
Picking up one of the washcloths the orderly had given her with the scrubs, Max ran it under a stream of warm water. He gave her a look, making sure she was okay with it, then rubbed the cloth over her shoulders, down her sternum, over the tops of her breasts, her upper abdomen. He took away the blood, left warm, clean dampness behind. Balling up the blouse, he jammed it in the biohazard can, no question that she could ever wear it again. She had her hair in a twist on her head, but some pieces had come down. He moved them out of his way to run the cloth over her neck. Then he rinsed out the cloth, picked up a clean one and did it all over again, covering the same terrain.
She stared at his face throughout. No thoughts in her head, though she should be thinking of a hundred details. His face wasn’t expressionless, not exactly. It was like staring at one of those old concrete statues tucked in the corner of a garden. Something that had been there forever, seen everything come and go, and still it stood, just as strong. “You did good,” she managed.
“So did you. You could be a combat nurse.” Those steady gray eyes held hers in a lock as intimate as a physical embrace. “You with me now?”
She nodded. He picked up the scrub top, offered it to her. If she didn’t pull it together, he’d probably help her take off the skirt, dress her in the drawstring pants like a child. She cleared her throat, resisting the urge to let him do just that. “I’m okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“All right.” But before he turned away, he did something remarkable. He put his arms around her. Despite her surprised stiffness, he closed the step between them to hold her close. The contact with his body sent a current through her, waking up frozen nerve endings. As he cupped the back of her head in one large palm, his heat and strength surrounded her. She once again remembered the way he’d navigated through that traffic, never showing panic or lack of control. Neither had she. He was right. They’d both done damn good.
“Sometimes, after something like that, human touch helps ground you, brings back your focus.” He spoke against her hair.
It did. “It does,” she said into his chest. “Thank you, Max.”
* * * * *
As she expected, all four of his team came, with their wives or significant others. She leaned against the wall, watching the way they formed a protective circle around Matt, supporting him. All of them waiting.
Jon Forte sat in a chair at Matt’s back, a deliberate choice, Janet was sure. Though in business Jon was Matt’s engineering genius, with a secondary but no less significant talent for finance, that wasn’t the reason she’d felt it was as imperative for him to be here as Dana. The other men, more traditional Southern males, routinely teased Jon for his philosophical studies of ancient texts and the advanced yoga practice that gave his leanly muscled form a tensile strength, but their respect for his sincere and solid spiritual core was obvious in difficult situations like this.
Rachel, Jon’s wife, had just brought another round of coffee from the cafeteria. After she distributed it, she took a seat next to Jon, her hazel eyes serious. Because Rachel’s blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, Janet clearly saw the strain in her face they were all feeling. There were so many connections in this room…that had to mean something, didn’t it? A sense that things happened for a reason, that truly bad things couldn’t happen when bonds were this strong and fated?
For instance… Rachel was a physical therapist, but it was her second job, that of yoga instructor, that had brought her across Jon’s path. When he learned about the PT, that had connected her to Dana. D
ana was an Army veteran who’d needed Rachel’s skills. Peter Winston, Matt’s operations manager and a former National Guard captain who’d served two tours in the Middle East, was her husband. He’d retired to care for Dana when she came back from Iraq so severely injured she lost her sight and most of her hearing. Fortunately, cochlear implant surgery had helped her regain much of the latter.
Janet shifted her gaze to Peter, his powerful body squeezed into a chair next to Dana. Since Max was Dana’s primary driver, the men often teased the big man about how similar he was to Max in build and coloring, with his storm-gray eyes and dark-blond hair. Nobody was teasing anyone right now, however.
Thinking about the men’s similarities, she turned her head to locate Max. He was standing at the corner of the waiting room, ready to help. He met her gaze briefly as she turned, then Janet’s attention was pulled to more pressing matters.
“Fuck this.” Matt surged up from the seat and moved toward the hallway. “I’m going to her.”
Peter was already in motion, but it was Lucas who was closest and intercepted him, shifting a step ahead of Matt.
“You can’t, man. You know that. She’s in surgery.”
“She needs me. They need me.” But the emotions beneath the rage said the words Matt was too much of a traditional, stoic male to say. I need them.
“I know that. But you don’t want to distract them from what they’re doing. They’re doing everything they can for her, and you don’t want them to spare a single second from that, right?”
Lucas, the voice of calm reason, Matt’s CFO and best friend since college. As an amateur cyclist who regular biked to work, the gray-eyed, sandy-haired, athletic male took his share of ribbing over stretchy shorts and compressed testicles, but his success in the sport reflected the focus and calm thinking he exercised now. He knew Matt so well…they all knew one another so well. The bonds they’d formed, through laughter and tears, were unbreakable. Janet’s fervent hope was the former, or something in a similar positive vein, would prevail by the end of this day.
