She had to get to work and go through the motions, occupy her mind, avoid thinking about the man who was now consuming her in a very unwanted manner.
The following Monday two things happened at once. London opened an email congratulating her and informing her she was hired with the magazine, while at the same time, her phone rang.
She was grinning maniacally at the computer for the first time in days while she snatched the phone and answered it without looking at the caller.
“Hey, little sister. How are you?” Colin’s voice drew her attention away from the computer. He’d been calling twice a day.
“Hey, yourself. I’m good.”
“Any word from Pierce yet?” he asked.
She sighed, sitting back in her chair. “No. I haven’t seen him for ten days. I haven’t heard from him for a week.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. That sucks. Why don’t you come to the club?”
“Honestly, it doesn’t feel right without him.”
Colin chuckled. “Aha. So you have fallen hard.”
London rubbed her temples with her free hand. “You say that like it’s a good thing. I’m not so sure.”
“What? Why not? What’s wrong with letting a man into your life? I’m happy for you. I want you to be loved. You deserve it.”
“I don’t know, Colin. It’s too stressful. The pressure is more than I’m ready for. Probably more than I’ll ever be ready for.”
“What the hell does that mean? What pressure? London, how is the guy pressuring you if you haven’t even heard from him?” Colin’s tone was a mixture of confusion and frustration.
“It’s self-inflicted. I don’t like relying on anyone.”
“How are you relying on him? Talk to me, London. I’m not following.”
“Emotionally, Colin. Jeez. I don’t like worrying. I don’t like the way my chest hurts from caring. Things go wrong. People can turn on you or break up with you or…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the last part.
“Die?” Colin’s voice was softer. “Honey, that’s all true, but we have to take chances and hope for the best. Otherwise, we’re not really living. Pierce is head over heels for you. Everyone knows it. Don’t sabotage things by going into your head and turning it into something it’s not. I don’t believe for a second that he’s suddenly going to start abusing you. Nor is he going to change his mind. Hell, last time he left for six months after you’d been on one date with him, he’d held a soft spot for you the entire time. And, honey, you have to believe he won’t get killed. It will tear you up if you constantly worry about that.”
Tears started to fall down her cheeks. “I know. I know. You’re right. I don’t want to be like his ex and leave him because I can’t take the heat. I’m better than that.” She wasn’t sure she believed her own words, but she spoke them anyway.
“You are, and you know good and well there were other issues with their marriage that caused it to fail. I get that his ex cheated on him, but she wasn’t right for him if she couldn’t stay by him through thick and thin.”
“I know. Intellectually, I know you’re right.”
“Then stop trying to talk yourself out of this relationship. Take a deep breath, accept it for what it is, and get your shit together so when he does reappear, you’re there for him. If he has to worry about you losing faith every time he leaves for work, he won’t be as sharp as he needs to be.
“London, you’ve tiptoed around this thing with Pierce for long enough. Stop lying to yourself and admit you’re in love with him and stop looking for any excuse in the book to avoid getting hurt. Take a chance. Suck it up. I swear, it’s worth it.”
She swallowed, wiping away the tears. He was right. She could do this. She wasn’t the weak scared girl who left her stupid husband in the night with a bloody nose, a broken rib, and a black eye.
She was strong now. She stood on her own two feet. She was confident she could find work she loved and figure things out with the rest of her life. Pierce needed her to be there for him, and she could do it.
She had no other options. Her heart was leading this train.
Chapter 20
Two days later, London had four more applications out there for freelance editing jobs. If she could get several different gigs that each gave her a few hours a week, she would be on her way to self-sufficiency.
Getting hired for the first magazine gave her a boost of confidence.
The chat with her brother gave her a different boost of confidence. It also made her realize just how deeply her feelings for Pierce were. She missed him like crazy.
It was midafternoon when her phone rang on the kitchen counter. She rushed toward it thinking it was either Joe calling to see if she could fill in for someone on her day off or, please God, Pierce.
It was neither. The screen indicated it was Detective Ralston. She snatched it up and answered. “Hello?”
“London?”
“Yes.” Her heart raced at the tone of his voice. Urgent. Concerned.
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but Pierce was in a shoot-out about an hour ago.”
London’s knees gave out. She slumped to the floor, leaning against the kitchen counter. Her heart seized as the room started to spin around her. Tears fell. So many, so fast. She couldn’t stop the emotional onslaught.
No. God no. Please God no.
Detective Ralston was still speaking, but he sounded far away. She couldn’t hear him. She didn’t want to hear the rest.
“London,” he called out, his voice louder. “Are you still there? Are you listening?”
She opened her mouth but couldn’t manage to speak. Finally, she must have sobbed.
“London. Listen to me. He’s on his way to St. Stephen’s Hospital. I need you to pull it together and get there. Can you do that?”
“What?” Did he say that Pierce was heading to the hospital? Not dead?
“St. Stephen’s. Can you call a cab or get an Uber?”
She nodded rapidly, swiping at her tears, shoving to her feet. “Yes. I can get there. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Good. Be careful.” The line went dead. She imagined Detective Ralston was also rushing to the hospital.
London’s hands were shaking violently as she opened her phone, found the Uber app, and somehow managed to request a ride.
Shot. Not dead. Shot. Injured. She needed to get her shit together. Shoes. Get your shoes.
She raced across the room and grabbed her tennis shoes, stuffing her feet into them and then tying them haphazardly as if the Uber might arrive faster than the seven minutes stated. She grabbed her purse and coat next and ran out the door.
She took the stairs two at a time instead of waiting for the elevator. Five minutes later she slid into the Uber. “My boyfriend was just shot. I need to get to St. Stephen’s.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry. I’ll get you there as fast as I can.” The man wasn’t kidding. He wove them in and out of traffic with far more speed than any Uber she’d ever taken before. She didn’t think he actually broke any laws, but he was intent, and that meant a lot to her.
“Thank you so much,” she managed to say as she jumped out at the emergency room entrance and slammed the door behind her.
The scene she encountered shocked her. The room was filled with cops. She came to a halt for a moment, taking it all in.
Before she could continue forward, someone spotted her and came toward her. Stacy. Pierce’s partner. She pulled London into her embrace, hugged her briefly, and then held her at arm’s length. “They’re prepping him for surgery,” she stated and then turned and pulled her by the hand. “I’ll get you back to see him before they take him in.”
London’s heart beat so damn fast she thought it might thump out of her chest.
Stacy dragged her through the crowd of parting cops whose voices lowered to a hush as she passed. As they reached the door at the other side of the emergency room, an older man stepped in front of London and set a
hand on her shoulder. “I’m Detective Ralston. You must be London.”
London nodded.
He glanced at Stacy. “I’ll take her back.”
In moments, London found herself in a long hallway and then continued to nearly jog behind the white-haired man.
When he shoved a door open on the right, she followed him into a room filled with so many machines all beeping at once that at first she didn’t notice the gurney between them. And then she was at his side.
Pierce. It was really him. In the flesh.
He had on an oxygen mask, but he was breathing. His chest was rising and falling. His eyes were closed. She glanced up and down his body, stopping at his left leg. She’d pictured a chest or head wound, so seeing the injury was to his leg, though mangled and bloody, soothed her, marginally.
A nurse was applying pressure to his wound, both of her hands covered in blood. His clothes were gone. A sheet was draped over his chest and torso and his right leg.
Another nurse scurried to the head of the bed, arranging an IV.
Suddenly, he turned his head toward London and smiled slowly. He lifted one hand to pull the oxygen away. “London…” He grabbed her with his other hand. Weakly. Too weakly.
She set her palm on his chest and leaned in closer, trying hard not to cry. “Pierce.”
“Not gonna make it,” he murmured. “So sorry.”
She flinched, nearly jumping out of her body. “Of course you’re going to make it.” She pressed on his chest. “They’re taking you into surgery now.”
The nurse at his head hooked up something, and it started to drip into his IV. “We need to take him back now, ma’am.”
London nodded, her gaze going back to Pierce. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right here when you come out. Promise.”
He gave her a wan grin. “I’ve never told you I love you,” he whispered, his voice weaker than his grip, his eyes fluttering.
She gripped his hand and squeezed. “I love you too, Pierce. Hold on for me. You’re going to be fine.”
“We really have to get him into surgery now,” the nurse stated emphatically. “Someone will come out to talk to you as soon as they can.”
London kissed Pierce’s hand and released him. Seconds later, she was alone in the little room, frozen, tears falling again. She had no idea how long she stood there watching the place where they’d taken him away, but finally gentle hands landed on her shoulders.
She knew instinctively they belonged to Detective Ralston. “Why did he think he was going to die?” she asked. His words ran through her head over and over. Not gonna make it. Not gonna make it.
“He lost a lot of blood. He was in shock. He’ll be fine.”
She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “You’re sure?”
His expression was serious, brows drawn together. “Of course. A little bullet to the leg isn’t going to take Pierce Titus down.”
London stared at him, trying to read his expression and make sure he wasn’t humoring her. Finally, she blew out a breath.
Detective Ralston pulled her into his embrace. She was grateful for his kindness. He held her tight. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”
She swallowed, trying not to sob out loud. “Please.” She pulled her phone from her purse, still hanging on her shoulder, and handed it to him. “My brother. Colin.”
Two hours passed before the surgeon finally stepped into the crowded waiting room. Two of the longest hours of London’s life. Her brother was there, and so was Rayne. Both of them had kept her relatively sane for that entire time.
The other officers stood around quietly, often offering her a pat on the shoulder or a kind look. So many of them. Men and women. It was like the scene out of an action movie. The cops really did rally together when one of their own was shot.
London spent the majority of that time making silent promises to a God she’d rarely spoken too. She rang her hands together for so long that her fingers ached. She’d had an entire pot of coffee that didn’t taste half as good as when Pierce made it for her.
And she had hope. Every moment he was in surgery was encouraging. It meant he was still alive. Several people mumbled this reassurance to themselves or to anyone who would listen. Didn’t even matter if it was true because it gave her hope.
Finally, a doctor stepped into the room. He glanced around and then spoke to the room at large. “He’s going to be fine.”
A collective sigh of relief filled the room while London’s knees buckled. Luckily, Colin caught her and held her to his side.
“He’s in recovery now and he’s going to be on bed rest for a while, but he’ll make a full recovery.” His eyes roamed the room and landed on London. “Are you London?”
She nodded, unable to form words.
The doctor smiled. “He asked for you.” The doctor held the door open, nodding over his shoulder, and London somehow managed to follow him.
“He’s already awake?” she asked as they entered the hallway and took several turns toward recovery.
He gave her a small smile. “He came out of anesthesia faster than most. I thought maybe he was hoping to take a vacation to England at first. He kept mumbling London.”
She grinned, grateful for the doctor’s easy manner.
“Finally, I realized London was a woman, not a city.” He pushed open a door and held it for her. “He needs to sleep. You can’t stay long, but he won’t settle down until he sees you.”
London nodded as she made her way to his side. He was no longer bloody. A clean sheet was draped over his body again, but his left leg was heavily bandaged.
His lips were parted, but his eyes were closed. She hated to disturb him, so she remained very quiet as she leaned her head down and set her cheek on his chest. The rise and fall was all she needed to calm her soul.
Suddenly, his hand was on her head, his fingers threaded in her hair. “Mmm. I love the smell of your shampoo,” he murmured.
She lifted her face and met his gaze. How the hell could that be the first thing he said?
His eyes were mere slits, but he was smiling. “They said I didn’t die. I refused to believe them until they brought you back here.” His words came out slow and almost too soft to hear.
“You’re very much alive. I told you you’d be fine.” She cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him gently.
“So sorry. I must have scared you to death.”
“You did. But I’m strong. I can handle it.” She wasn’t lying. She knew she could because she had no choice. She was in love with him. She leaned closer, setting her cheek against his, her lips near his ear. “I can handle anything. I love you so much.”
His hand smoothed up her back. “Love you too, baby. Also, I got the promotion.”
She flinched, lifting her face to see his again.
He was fading, but still grinning. “I had to finish this case. It would have sucked if I’d died on my last case.”
“Yes. Indeed.” She shook her head. “I would have killed you again myself if you’d died on me.”
He smiled wanly.
“Did you catch that guy? The drug dealer? Was he really the one who came after me?”
“Yes to all three. He’s in custody.”
London blew out a long breath. Thank God.
“So tired.” He mouthed those last words.
“Sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” She kissed his cheek and straightened to standing as a nurse fiddled with some sort of machine at his side.
She had no idea what his recovery might look like, but he was going to live, and that was all that mattered.
He was hers, and he was going to live, and they were going to make a life together. Because she knew one thing for certain after the last six hours. Loving him was totally out of her control, and she wouldn’t change a moment of it for the world.
Epilogue
Six months later…
* * *
“London?” Pierce stood in the doorwa
y to their bedroom, shaking his head. Apparently this wasn’t one of the weeks London had chosen to be tidy. It looked like every article of clothing she owned was on the floor. So much so that he didn’t immediately spot her leaning out of the closet. “Babe?”
She had given up her apartment and moved in with him two months ago. He knew it still made her nervous. She hung on to her independence fiercely, but eventually he’d worn her down, insisting that there was no reason to pay rent on two places when they never spent a night apart anymore.
“Sorry. I’m trying to hurry.”
He smiled indulgently at her, his eyes roaming up and down her frame. She had on a black lace bra-and-panty set that made him swallow his tongue.
Pierce had been ready for thirty minutes, dressed in a dark charcoal suit, a white shirt, and a black tie. It had seemed prudent to get ready before her and get out of the bathroom. “You look fantastic in that lingerie, but I’m thinking Rayne might prefer you put on the bridesmaid’s dress over it.”
“Ha ha.” She stepped back into the closet and returned a moment later holding up a sexy black dress. She tossed the hanger on the floor and stepped into it. “I hope it still fits. I’ve put on weight since I was fitted for it. Can you zip me up?” She spun around, her back to him.
He made his way carefully through the landmine of clothing until he reached her, and then he held his breath as he pulled the zipper up her back. Luckily it came together without effort. “You look amazing,” he stated as he rounded to her front to tuck a finger under her chin and lift her face. “I love it. And let’s go shopping next week. You need more clothes.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “No woman wants to admit she’s put on weight.”
“It was weight you needed, babe. You were too skinny. Healthy living. You look so fucking hot, I can’t keep my hands off you.” That was entirely true. She looked better every day, and he struggled to keep his hands to himself most days also. Not that it was a requirement, but his libido was rampant around her even after eight months together.
Claiming London Page 17
