by Lynn Hagen
He was racing across the grass, desperate to get to his mate, when someone came out of nowhere and grabbed him around the waist, yanking Layne off his feet. Layne swung the knife frantically, trying to break free, until the person snarled into his ear.
“Calm down.”
Nomad? Had Layne just imagined his voice? He prayed he hadn’t just imagined it.
Nomad placed him on his feet. “Got your message. Sheriff is going into the house right now. Quinn and I got the barn. Go to the front of the house and wait for us.”
The sheriff must not have used his siren because Layne would’ve heard it if he had.
Layne pointed the knife at Nomad, although he hadn’t meant to. “I’m not going anywhere without Nash.”
Nomad looked at the knife, and Layne quickly lowered it. There went that hardened look that terrified him. “And I’m going to get him for you. We’re wasting time arguing, squirt.”
Squirt? Layne would’ve argued about anyone calling him that, but this was Nomad. He could call Layne whatever the hell he wanted to just as long as the kitty cat played nice.
“Fine, then stand at the side of the barn.” Nomad pointed, and Layne rushed over to the spot. It was the best he was gonna get.
Right before Layne’s eyes, Nomad changed into a black panther. Layne slapped a hand over his mouth, stifling the gasp. He’d seen Nash in his panther form, but it still shocked him to see anyone shift.
Then another cat walked their way. This one was much bigger.
Quinn.
Layne wouldn’t want to be Rawlings right now. The two appeared lethal and prowled with such grace, their sleek muscles emphasizing their dangerousness. They slipped through the large barn doors that were slightly ajar.
On the one hand, Layne wanted to see the action, to reassure himself that Nash was alive. On the other, he didn’t want to see the brothers tearing Rawlings apart.
Gunshots rang out. Yowls erupted. Layne held his breath, clutching the bloody knife to his chest as he waited. Then he noticed a cop crossing the vast lawn.
Layne couldn’t let him see the panthers so he rushed over to Deputy Medford and fell. Holy crap! He’d almost stabbed himself. Medford bent and took the knife.
The guy was older, with salt and pepper hair and keen green eyes. He had a strong jaw and a no-nonsense look about him.
“We’ll need this as evidence.”
Layne heart hammered at he got to his feet. “Is he…is he dead?”
He wanted Hartley to leave him alone, but Layne really didn’t want to kill the guy. He felt lightheaded and feared he’d fall back on the ground again. His knees grew weak, and Layne would have to live with the fact that he’d actually killed someone.
That was a heavy burden to carry. Now he kind of knew how Nash felt. Hartley had been a piece of shit, but had he deserved to die?
Medford touched Layne’s shoulder. “Take a few deep breaths, son. You didn’t kill him. Hartley is on his way to the hospital. He’ll recover, and then he’ll be charged.” He touched Layne’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Did he do that to you?”
Layne nodded. This was all too much for him right now. He wanted Nash. Layne needed his mate’s strong arms wrapped around him, making him feel safe in this insane situation.
Medford started forward, but Layne held up his hands. “You can’t go in there!”
He stopped and looked down at Layne. “I already know Nash’s brothers are in there. I also know they’re panthers.”
That shocked him. Layne had known Deputy Medford his entire life and wouldn’t have thought the guy would’ve kept that kind of secret. “Are you one?”
He gave Layne a tight-lipped nod. “Now let me do my job.”
Layne walked behind him, needing to see Nash. When he stepped into the barn, tears filled his eyes. Nash was tied to a chair, his head slumped over. His eyes weren’t open.
To hell with this. Layne ran to Nash and threw his arms around him. “Nash, please talk to me.”
“I’m okay, sweetheart. Bruised to hell, but no worse for wear.”
He opened his eyes, and Layne’s heart sang looking into those gray depths. He cupped his mate’s face and kissed his bruised lips.
“How’re you?” Nash’s brows furrowed. “Did Hartley hurt you?” He looked at the bruise on Layne’s face, and anger filled his eyes.
“He hits like a bitch,” Layne said. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He hurried behind Nash and worked to untie the ropes. “Why didn’t you shift?”
“Sorry, kitten,” Nash said. “He held a gun to my head.”
But Nash was alive, and that was all that mattered. Layne couldn’t say the same for Rawlings. He’d glanced in the guy’s general direction, but the carnage made Layne want to throw up.
He also averted his gaze when it came to Nash’s brothers. They stood over by Rawlings, completely naked. The deputy talked to them as if their nudity were nothing.
When Layne released the last of the knots, Nash slumped over. Nomad came toward them and caught Nash before he hit the ground. Layne had tried, but Nash was too large for him to help.
“We stored our bag on the side of the barn,” Quinn said. “We’ll get dressed then meet you at the house.”
“What about Nash?” Deputy Medford asked. “He needs to get looked at by a doctor.”
“No doctor,” Nash grumbled. “Rest and my mate.”
Quinn was the first to dress, and then he pulled Nash into his arms, carrying him out. Layne made his gaze stay away from Nomad as he dressed.
In a few long strides, Nomad caught up and walked next to Layne. Nomad didn’t say a word, but Layne felt as though the guy was protecting him until Nash got back on his feet. If there were anyone in the world Layne trusted with his safety besides Nash, it was Nomad.
But he wanted it to be Nash and couldn’t wait to be back in his mate’s arms.
* * * *
“That’s not how I wanted it,” Layne said as he stomped his foot. “I showed you the drawings three times.”
Quinn held a hammer in his hand, glaring at Layne. “Stomp that foot one more time, prego, and I’ll throw the couch into the dumpster.”
Layne gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
It had been two months since the ordeal with Hartley and Rawlings. Once Rawlings was dead and Hartley was locked up, Layne’s life seemed to return to normal.
Well, not exactly normal. He had to sneak around because his belly was swollen with child and the humans around town didn’t need to know about that. Also, Stanton wasn’t talking to Layne. Not since Hartley had kidnapped Layne and the cops locked him up.
Stevie and Horace were another story. As much as Layne had tried to avoid seeing them so they wouldn’t discover he was pregnant, there was no keeping them away.
And as expected, the two had freaked the fuck out when they saw Layne was pregnant. Stevie actually passed out, and Horace kept poking Layne’s belly to make sure it was real.
Now Stevie stood next to Quinn, his arms crossed, tapping his foot. “Look, you hormonal beast, that’s exactly where you said you wanted the couch. If we have to move it one more time, I’m gonna help Quinn toss it out the window.”
“I said dumpster,” Quinn said in a low voice to Stevie. “We have to keep our threats straight, or they won’t hold any weight.”
“You just rhymed,” Stevie said. “Isn’t that a party foul?”
“Maybe if we were at a party,” Quinn argued. “I don’t think even then, my friend.”
Stevie narrowed his eyes. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.”
Layne pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Can you two argue later? The opening is in a week, and we’re not nearly as ready as we should be.”
“We’re gonna be ready,” Horace hollered from across the room.
He had a cleaning rag in one hand, polish in the other. Layne swore he’d been polishing that counter for the past hour. How shiny did Horace expect it to get?
&nbs
p; Seeing the two there to help did Layne’s heart good. He just wished Stanton were there, as well.
“Argue with my mate one more time and both of you will be tossed out the window.” Nash joined them and curled his arms around Layne.
Layne leaned against Nash’s chest, sighing. Although it hadn’t been easy, Layne had gotten the love of his life.
It had taken a while, but Nash had healed from his wounds. He was still a work in progress as far as his nightmares and guilt went, but Layne was hoping a lot of love and a new baby would help to mend him.
Quinn narrowed his eyes. “Layne keeps telling us to move the couch three inches this way then five inches the other. Then he said it needed to be turned at a ninety-degree angle. That damn couch is heavy.”
“Fine, leave it where it is,” Layne argued. “It’s not like—” His brows shot up as an intense pain gripped his stomach. He winced and pressed a hand against his belly as he tried to remember his breathing technique.
Since Nash was behind him, his mate hadn’t seen the face Layne had made. But Quinn and Stevie had.
Quinn paled as Stevie gripped his snack bag against his chest. “Are you all right?” Layne’s friend asked, chewing faster. “Tell m-me you’re not a-about to have the baby.”
Nash spun Layne so fast he nearly fell over. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Nash didn’t look any better than Quinn. He had stark terror written all over his face as his gaze went from Layne’s eyes to his stomach. “Is it time?”
Layne burped then smacked a hand over his mouth.
“It’s just gas,” Stevie said, sounding relieved. “That can hurt sometimes. I once had it so bad that—”
Layne cried out in pain. This wasn’t gas. He doubled over as everyone starting shouting. Stevie jumped up and down as if he were jumping rope, and Horace hurried over with an armful of towels, like he was ready to clean up any mess Layne made.
“Get him on one of the tables,” Quinn shouted at Nash.
“I’m not having my baby in a damn bar!” Layne would’ve dropped to his knees if Nash hadn’t caught him and lifted him into his arms. “Call my mom,” Layne cried out. “I want my mommy!”
Stevie stopped jumping like his feet were on fire and whipped out his phone. Horace ran in circles around Layne, and Layne wasn’t sure why.
Nash laid him on the closest table and snatched the towels from Horace, using them as a makeshift pillow.
“I came prepared,” Horace said. “One second. Don’t have the baby until I get back from my car.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Layne snapped. He didn’t mean to sound so irritated with Horace. His friend was just trying to be nice, but he was allowed to snarl at anyone he wanted to because Layne was in pain.
And had his mind just rhymed? Oh crap. Now he was doing it, too.
Nash held Layne’s hand as he bent over, caressing Layne’s hair. “You’re doing great, love.”
“I’m scared.” He held Nash’s hand so tight he was surprised he didn’t break his mate’s fingers. “I don’t want to do this. Can’t we wait for another time?”
Nash chuckled. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t think you get to decide when the baby comes.”
“But it’s only been ten weeks. I’m not due for another two.” The closer his due date came, the harder Layne had tried not to think about giving birth. Nash had called Keller and asked about male’s giving birth, and Layne hadn’t liked what he’d heard.
He saw the dark line that ran from his navel to his groin start to open. Panic set in. Layne tried to get off the table, but Nash held him in place. “Sorry, but you’re in no condition to get up.”
Layne breathed through another round of cramps, wishing he were getting hit by a truck instead. He was sure that would be a lot less painful than this.
“I’m back!” Horace ran over with a gym bag. “I brought a clean sheet so when you get undressed we can cover your carrot and peas. I also got some lip balm because I read online that your lips can get chapped.”
When Horace tried to put some on Layne’s lips, Layne turned his head. “I can do it myself.” He reached for it, and then another wave of pain struck him. “On second thought.”
Horace applied the lip balm, pulled out a robe and a small pillow that he tucked under Layne’s head after he removed the towels. Layne wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with the robe or the rubber ducky Horace held out.
“I’m here,” Layne’s mother called out. “Did I miss the action?”
“Mom!” Layne held out his hand, and she moved to the side opposite Nash. His dad had come to, but he stayed in the background, giving Layne a huge smile and a thumbs-up.
Layne’s stomach started to open. He was freaking out until Nash finally calmed him down. Fifteen minutes later the wail of their son echoed in the pub. Layne’s mom wrapped him in the soft robe and handed him over to Nash.
Tears filled her eyes. “Congratulations!”
“What’s his name?” Quinn asked.
“Connor,” Nash said with pride in his voice. “Connor O’Brien.”
Layne’s dad nodded. “Good strong name.”
Stevie was seated in one of the wooden chairs, fanning himself. Horace stood next to Stevie, that damn rubber ducky clutched in his hands.
Layne looked toward the bar and saw Nomad standing there. He gave Layne a nod and a slight smile before he walked to the office. Layne wasn’t sure he’d ever figure the man out, but one thing was sure. His son would be safe with Uncle Nomad around.
He’d be safe with Nash as his father and Uncle Quinn around, too.
Nash lowered their son so Layne could see him. Then he unwrapped the beautiful baby boy and laid him on Layne’s chest. Skin-to-skin bonding. Layne started to cry as he looked at the precious bundle. He looked just like a human baby. Nash had explained that around six months their baby would be able to shift, and that was when the real fun would start.
“We’ll let you rest for now,” his mom said. “But we need to get you home. A bar is no place for a newborn.”
She kissed Layne’s forehead, and then his dad kissed Layne’s cheek. “Well done, son. Well done.”
They ushered everyone over to the bar for a celebratory drink. Nash stayed with Layne, rubbing his hand over Layne’s hair and smiling at him. “Your dad’s right. Well done, love.”
“Thanks.” He grinned up at his mate. “But we’re never ever telling him he was born on a tabletop in a pub. Got that?”
Nash’s chuckle was deep, and Layne wasn’t sure he’d ever love him any more than he did in that moment. His feelings toward Nash had started out as a high school crush, and now they had the perfect family.
Layne would always encourage his son to dream big, because dreams really could come true.
THE END

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