Protecting His Brat

by Sorcha Black

  “By other people.”

  Her mother’s eyelids fluttered, as though Aberdeen was being ridiculous.

  “Think of it this way—your spouse wants a pet dog. He begs and pleads for one. You’ve always hated dogs. He goes behind your back and acquires a mutt anyway, then has the nerve to die and leave the little beast in your care.” She sighed. “You didn’t end up at the pound, so quit feeling sorry for yourself.”

  I almost stepped away from the door, but only my indecision about whether to put a hand on Aberdeen’s shoulder or smack her mother into next Tuesday kept me in my place.

  Rather than fall apart, my girl snorted. “So, it was never about me as a person.”

  “Well, there’s that too. You’re so…soft.” She grimaced. “But your father was soft, too, and no doubt he chose a donor egg from a woman who was just as ridiculous.”

  “If I invest in Kincaid Holdings, what will that look like? What kinds of returns can I expect?”

  Her mother snorted. “I raised you out of the goodness of my heart, Deen. You owe me that money.”

  “So it’s not an investment so much as it’s repayment.”

  “I’m glad you understand.”

  Aberdeen nodded, and I stopped myself from intervening. What she chose to do was none of my business, even though it killed me not to jump between them and argue.

  “You’re not getting a cent.”

  That’s my girl.

  Her mother’s head jerked back as though she’d struck her. “You owe me for every dime I spent on you, you ungrateful little viper. With interest!”

  “I’m not sure a judge would agree.”

  “I’ve been waiting for that damned money ever since your grandmother died. I married for that money. It’s mine!” Her mother was shaking with rage.

  “You didn’t anticipate my father keeping it from you.”

  “He had no right! The company was ours. That money was ours!” She was on her feet, her usually disdainful face white with rage. “How dare his bitch of a mother leave all her money to you instead of to us! You’re just a pet. I sat through years of family dinners and inane social functions to please her, and in return she leaves everything to a snotty toddler who’s barely related to this family? That money was rightfully ours, but both of them chose you over me every godforsaken time.”

  “I didn’t tell them to do that.”

  “No,” she growled, “but you’re in the position to finally fix it.”

  There was a long pause while Aberdeen studied the wall behind her mother. I could almost see the gears turning. When she glanced back to her mother, her blue eyes were piercing.

  “Did you have me kidnapped as a baby?”

  The question came out of left field, and I blinked at Aberdeen in confusion.

  Ms. Kincaid rolled her eyes. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “The man you hired was supposed to kill me but couldn’t bring himself to do it, so you had him killed in custody to shut him up…and then you killed my father, thinking control of the trust would shift to you, but he’d made his lawyer the trustee. You’ve hired people to threaten me for years so you could keep me close—so you could use your influence over me to get your hands on my inheritance.”

  What the fuck?

  As unobtrusively as I could, I put my hand on my gun.

  Could her theory possibly be true? The pieces fit, but it seemed so farfetched.

  Her mother leaned back in her chair, staring at Aberdeen with malevolence rather than incredulity. “What kind of gruesome fairy tale did you spin for yourself, child? Do you think I’m the wicked witch in this scenario?”

  “I think you consider yourself the victim. The money they owed you went to a child you resented. You found out that if you tried getting rid of me again and succeeded, the money would all go to charity.”

  Her mother’s hiss of irritation wasn’t exactly a confirmation, but it wasn’t reassuring.

  “Then you spent years tearing me down and using a third party to threaten my life, making it look like I had stalkers to keep me off balance.”

  Gun.

  It was in her mother’s hand—but where had it come from?

  I was in motion before my brain had fully registered what my body was doing. A shot cracked in the silence of the room, and I dove in front of my girl, praying I wasn’t too slow—praying I wouldn’t misjudge my timing, and that my body would be thick enough to stop it from getting to her. No vest. Fuck, if she’d told me…

  My dive knocked Aberdeen sideways out of her chair, shielding her. Two shots hit, like two shocking punches.

  “Go,” I croaked, trying not to crush her beneath my weight, but my elbow had caught her in the ribs.

  Fuck.

  I could feel darkness trying to shut down my vision, but I pushed up, trying to guide her to her feet. I didn’t know where her mother was anymore, my senses dulled by shock and pain, but I shielded my girl with my body as I tried to get her to the door. A third punch landed lower down, and I gasped, fumbling to push her at the door, but then she was ducking under my arm and gone. Confused, I fell to the floor, hoping like hell she’d made it out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I screamed in disbelief and terror and rage. I ducked under Blue’s arm and leaped on Mother like some stupid, feral beast. She got another shot off, but it went wild and ricocheted, and then we were rolling around, grappling for the gun. Blue’s training kicked in, and although I was smaller, I was more than holding my own.

  The gun was complicating matters. He’d never taught me how to disarm someone.

  I punched her in the face, which should have been satisfying after so many years, but all I could think about was Blue bleeding on the floor. His blood was hot and sticky on my skin. My ears were ringing so hard it felt like my eardrums had exploded. Another shot went off, and I felt the kick of the gun as I held her wrist, trying to keep her from aiming at me. She was bigger and stronger though, and slowly, slowly, she turned the gun in my direction. Her eyes were filled with loathing.

  It was the closest I could remember ever being to her.

  Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying—I doubted she could either. I felt the tendons in her wrist flex, and I twisted. The gun exploded again, and everything was hot and wet and sticky. There was copper in my mouth. The malevolent gleam in Mother’s eyes faded, and her body slackened beneath mine.

  What?

  The gun fell from her fingers and hit the hardwood floor.

  I let go of her and struggled to my feet, gasping for breath that hurt like hell every time I could grunt some in. I shoved the gun away with my toe. She wasn’t moving. Her eyes were staring past my shoulder, and her face was slack.

  Horror leeched through me.

  Was she…

  “Mother?” I said the word but couldn’t hear it.

  I thought of first aid but didn’t know anything about it except what I’d seen on TV.

  Blue!

  I turned away from her to look for him and found Vincent on his knees beside him, pressing down on two separate wounds.

  I fell to my knees in the gore to help. There was so much blood. Blue was pale under his tan.

  “No, no! I need you here, with me.” I was whispering, or maybe shouting. I couldn’t tell past the ringing in my ears.

  A flash of movement caught my eye, but it wasn’t Mother coming to finish the job. Deborah, the head housekeeper, was on the phone, a bottle of furniture polish still clutched in her hand. Dustin barreled into the room, then a few outside guards.

  Some of them knew first aid and took over, working on Blue, working on Mother. The office was covered in blood as though we’d been filming a slasher movie. I was shaking, trying to rub the blood off my hands while I hovered, begging the men working on Blue to keep him alive for the ambulance.

  Deborah was hugging me, and her lips were moving, but I couldn’t tell what she was saying.

  I couldn’t get enough air.r />
  This was my fault. I’d come in here to confront her. If I hadn’t been so angry or so accusatory, Mother could have ignored me. She wouldn’t have drawn the gun.

  When had Mother gotten a gun?

  God, it had been a wild hunch, and it had all been true—all of it, all along, had been her. I couldn’t look over at her, too afraid she’d be dead. Too afraid of how I’d feel about that.

  I pulled away from Deborah and knelt beside Blue’s head, stroking my hand over his stubbled scalp. God, if he died it would be my fault. I couldn’t live with that—couldn’t live without him. What would be the point?

  My tears were dripping onto his brutish face, and I kept having to brush them away. He looked like he was further gone than only sleeping, and it scared the living shit out of me. I pictured him in a casket with the same vacant expression and my heart…my heart.

  My life wasn’t worth his.

  It felt like hours before the paramedics arrived. Everyone in the room was soaked in gore.

  They took Blue into one of the two ambulances, and I forced my way in, telling everyone who would listen that I was his wife. The paramedics were so busy working on him they didn’t fight me on it as Vincent helped me in, dropping a kiss on my cheek before the doors shut out the throng of faces staring after us.

  None of them thought he would make it, I could tell.

  They didn’t know him. Not like I did.

  My Daddy would never leave me if he had a choice.

  * * *

  Three bullets—chest, chest, thigh.

  I was forced back as they wheeled him into surgery. One of his lungs had been punctured, and he’d lost far too much blood.

  Somehow Ariel was there. Maybe he was Blue’s next of kin? He took charge. Handled the media. Called a lawyer for me.

  The police came and talked to me after my lawyer got there. Apparently, money meant being left sitting quietly in a hospital waiting room even when you were suspected of murdering your mother. The security camera in her office had caught everything, so they left me alone after a few hours, telling me they might have more questions, and warning me not to leave town.

  She’d died instantly.

  I had abandoned my mother as we tried to save Blue, and had barely given her a second thought until the ambulances had arrived and I saw Dustin and Alex trying to do CPR on her.

  What kind of daughter was I? Maybe she’d been cold to me, but shouldn’t I feel something about her loss other than…conflicted? Sure, I was afraid to be on my own, but that wasn’t the same as being sorry she was dead. She’d tried to kill me, but she was my mother.

  Vincent and Deborah cleaned me up and held me together, and didn’t leave my side until I sent them away to rest. Someone must have alerted Jake because he’d called me several times even though I could barely hear him past the ringing in my ears.

  It was hard to stop crying, but irrationally I was afraid Blue would hear me sobbing through the layer upon layer of concrete walls and be upset that I was upset. I was terrified he would die. If he didn’t pull through, how could I ever bear to live without him?

  All of this was my fault. Blue and Mother would both be fine if I hadn’t gone storming into her office demanding answers. Things could have gone on as they always had, or I could have convinced Blue to run away with me.

  But she’d murdered my father. She’d already gotten away with it for so long.

  Even so, what had all of it come to? My father was still dead, and now my mother was too. She wouldn’t even have a trial, let alone do a minute in jail. Ultimately, there was no winning side in this situation. Blue was paying the price for me going off half-cocked—for me not telling him all of my vague suspicions that had suddenly clicked into place as I stared into the face of the mother who’d never loved me.

  All I’d wanted was for her to laugh and tell me my suspicions were ridiculous and melodramatic. To wave me away and tell me to stop wasting her time.

  Instead, she’d tried to kill me.

  Guilt cramped my stomach. I couldn’t eat.

  After Vincent and Deborah left, I was passed between Ariel and Blue’s sister, Violet—someone always tucking me under their arm or holding my hand, making sure I was okay. I felt guilty for not having my shit together enough to be there for them too, considering he’d been important to them longer.

  Violet was nothing like what I’d imagined. She was taller than me, and pretty, with short dark hair and dark eyes. It was hard to believe she was even related to Blue, other than the color of their hair and the smile, and the same sense of humor.

  Ellis flew back from his job in California to join us. From the half-heard conversations between him and Ariel, they were sure he’d pull through. I tried to take comfort in their confidence.

  Blue didn’t wake up. The doctor couldn’t tell me why, so I flew in specialists.

  The police came back to ask more questions. They went to the house to talk to the rest of the household staff, then I didn’t hear from them again. I was sure things were far from over.

  I sat next to Blue’s bed talking to him, chattering about stupid things and being silly, hoping to see some signs of life. They’d said not to worry yet, but I’d been worried ever since he’d knocked me to the floor and taken that first bullet. He was breathing on his own at least. I kissed his rugged face, and watched the machines, driving the nursing staff up the wall with my questions and my anxiety when machines beeped slower or faster.

  “I’m going to kick his ass when he wakes up,” Violet told me at one point. “He didn’t tell me about you.”

  “Maybe he’s ashamed of me.”

  She snorted. “No. I think he was ashamed of himself because you’re a client. You’re not the kind of woman a man would be ashamed of.”

  After thirty-six hours I was fighting sleep, but despite all of the disgusting vending machine coffee I’d consumed, I kept nodding off.

  Ellis brought Violet home to change, promising to come back as soon as he’d showered and grabbed us all some food. He’d come straight to us after his flight and hadn’t slept more than a few hours the night before because his client had been up late partying at some fancy invite-only thing.

  “Thank you for being here for him,” I said to Ariel when I woke at some point and found him watching me from across the bed.

  “Of course I’m here—I love him. That argument you overheard was stupid and juvenile. I got my panties in a bunch because he didn’t listen to me when I told him not to get involved with you because you’re a client.” He smiled, looking as tired as I felt. “Then I was too much of an asshole to apologize.”

  “He wasn’t angry at you.”

  “Ugh. Blue is always so fucking perfect. I guess I’ll have to apologize when he wakes up. The man won’t even be an asshole enough to gloat.”

  We were quiet for a while, but just when I thought Ariel had nodded off, he spoke again.

  “It was nice of your staff to come.”

  “My last bodyguard, Jake, flew here all the way from Florida,” I observed, choking back a renewal of the tears that had come as soon as he’d walked in the door.

  “Jake was your bodyguard? I thought he was your father,” Ariel admitted.

  “He basically is my father.”

  His smile warmed. “Nice to know we’re not just staff to some people.”

  I unlaced my fingers from Blue’s, then stood and stretched my back before readjusting his blanket. “Boundaries like that are stupid and made up. Just because someone gets paid to help you doesn’t mean you don’t love them like family—or more than family.”

  “You’re honestly in love with this big bastard.”

  “I am.”

  “He deserves to be happy, you know? I hope you’re not slumming.”

  “If he chooses to stay with me, he’s the one who slumming.”

  He grunted, and the sound was so like the noncommittal noises Blue made that my nose tingled with threatening tears.

  “W
hen he pulls through this, he might have a lot of work to do before he’s a hundred percent.”

  “I guess I’ll have to take it easy on him for a while.”

  He gave a quiet chuckle, and I settled back into my seat to continue waiting. Even in the change of clothes Deborah had brought, I was starting to feel gross, and I eyed the bathroom, wondering how fast I could shower, and whether the hospital staff would mind.

  We dozed instead.

  A roar brought me to my feet before my brain was fully awake.

  Blue was halfway out of bed, bellowing, his eyes wild. Ariel caught him before his legs buckled, and he managed to get him fully back into bed just as nurses rushed into the room shouting, “Code White!”

  “Aberdeen!” Blue shouted hoarsely. “Where the fuck is Aberdeen?” He grabbed the front of Ariel’s shirt as though he might be able to shake me out of him.

  “She’s fine! You’re scaring her!” Ariel shouted back, holding him down. “Look, she’s fine. She’s right there.”

  Blue’s muzzy gaze sought out mine, and when he saw me, his body went limp. His hands shook.

  “She shot you,” he accused.

  “No. She shot you, Daddy,” I said, my grief and fear welling over again. “You protected me. You took the bullets.” I grabbed his hand and sat back down. “You’ve been in surgery. You need to take it slow.” I was grinning and blubbering like a fool while trying to dry my face even though it was wet again a moment later. Him being awake had to be a good sign, right?

  “She hurt?” he demanded of Ariel, as though I was incapable of telling him myself. “Did you check her over?”

  “A doctor did, but if you’d like me to check, personally, I’ll happily volunteer.” Ariel’s smile was mocking, and far more like his usual expression. “I promise to be thorough.”

  “Touch her and I’ll fucking kill you,” Blue whispered. His eyes were at half-mast, as though he’d used every ounce of strength he’d had.

  The nurses bustling around us started to fuss.

  “Mr. Köhler,” one of them chided. “You yanked your IV pole halfway across the room. You’re lucky it didn’t come out of your arm. Don’t you think you’ve lost enough blood?”