“Hi, Sis,” Billy said, ignoring her yelp as he walked straight over to her and hugged her hard enough to hurt. “I’m so glad we were able to see you.”
“Yeah,” Hunter said as he walked to her other side. “We’ve been worried sick.”
Just as she was about to push the emergency button that was next to the bed, Hunter placed the sharp tip of his switch blade on her wrist. Anyone who walked by or peeked in would think that he was holding her hand.
She and Hunter both knew better.
Marissa had been typing something on her phone, but now looked over at Gwen. “Do you need anything before I head down the hall?”
“We’ll take care of her just fine, ma’am,” Hunter said. “We’ve got a whole lot to catch up on.”
Just before walking out, Marissa gazed at her again. “Gwen? Are you okay? You look like you might be in pain.”
She felt the knife’s point pierce her skin. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just surprised to see my family. That’s all.”
“Oh, good. Well, enjoy your visit,” Marissa said before closing the door.
The moment it was closed, Hunter’s voice turned cold. “Damn, you’ve gotten big, girl.”
She didn’t know what to do except keep them talking. It was a long shot, but she could hope that either Dr. Rossi would hear about her visitors or that somehow Officer Lucky’s daily visit would occur while they were here.
“I can’t believe you found me,” she said.
“It wasn’t hard,” Hunter said. “I’ve known where you were for some time. But you knew that.”
“How come you’ve been hanging out with the cops, Gwen?” Billy asked.
“I’ve been under their protection.”
“Until when? The baby comes? Then what’s going to happen?”
She didn’t know. She’d been too afraid to think that far. But there was no way she was going to share that. “That is none of your business.”
“You’re carrying my baby, so it is.”
“It’s my baby. If I was still with you either I or it—or both of us—would have died by now.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough. I know you scared a lot of people at the women’s center.”
“That’s on you. You shouldn’t have run.”
“We’re over.” Yes, her voice wasn’t exactly steady, but she realized that even though she was scared, she wasn’t the same person she used to be. She was much stronger now.
Hunter’s light blue eyes turned deadly. “We’re not over until I say we are.”
“I don’t agree. My baby and I are doing better without you. I’m not going back.”
Her brother narrowed his eyes. “Listen to you. You’re acting like you’ve got a say in this. You don’t, Gwen.”
“As soon as the hospital personnel realize that you lied about who you are, the police are going to come. You’re violating the restraining order.”
“They’re not going to do much. Get dressed. We’re leaving.”
“I can’t leave. I’m sick.”
Billy frowned. “Yeah right. You look fine to me.”
Any hopes that her brother had gotten smarter or had developed a conscience flew right out the window. “I’m in here for a reason. I have preeclampsia.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”
“It means I have high blood pressure. If I don’t stay in bed and rest, it could hurt the baby.”
He laughed darkly. “Maybe you don’t need me after all. Sounds like you’re hurting that baby all on your own. Get up, girl.”
She lifted up her hand. “I’m attached to these IVs.”
Looking as cold and calculated as she’d ever seen him, he calmly leaned over and pulled the tube from her hand.
She cried from the sudden, sharp pain, just as the monitor started to send out an alarm.
Billy stared at the door. “Turn that off, girl.”
“No,” she said, just as Hunter pulled at her. The patch that was monitoring the baby’s heartbeat ripped off, sending off another alarm. “Stop!” she cried.
Someone tried to open the door. Billy slammed it shut and leaned into it.
“They’re going to call for help. I bet the police are already on the way.”
Hunter’s sharp blade sliced her skin. “Don’t fight me, Gwen. Get up and dressed or get hurt.”
She realized then that she had a choice. She could either be at Hunter’s mercy or she could fight. There wasn’t another choice. There was no way was she going back to the life she’d had with him. No way was she going to ever believe that she didn’t deserve anything better.
So, she didn’t go quietly. She didn’t give up. She stood firm and she screamed at the top of her lungs: “Help me!”
Hunter growled and grabbed her roughly. Just as his knife sliced into the soft patch of skin under her clavicle, the door burst open.
A security guard, an orderly, and two nurses ran in. Everyone started yelling at Billy and Hunter.
Hunter held her arm and yanked her. “I’m taking her.”
She stumbled, now aware of her own blood dripping down her chest and pain coursing through her abdomen.
“She’s bleeding bad, sir. We need to help her.”
“No, I need to take her with me. She’s—”
The room started to go black just as she thought she heard Officer Lucky’s voice in the hall.
But as she fell to the ground, Gwen decided that she’d probably just imagined that.
After all this time, it seemed like she was finally going to get what she deserved.
CHAPTER 42
“The dance is a poem of which each
movement is a word.”
—Mata Hari
They’d taken Hunter Benton and Billy Camp into custody. Dylan had called for assistance, and soon they’d had enough cops and help to transport both men to the station and begin processing them.
Traci had done what she could to help, but she was flustered. Actually, she was too rattled to do much except try to wash the blood off her skin and clothes. One of the nurses who had helped calm Marissa down had eventually handed Traci scrubs and pointed her to a shower.
She hadn’t wanted to take the time to either change or shower, not until the woman had pointed out what a danger she was with so much blood on her in a public place.
Now she was sitting in a private waiting room while Gwen was in surgery.
No, while Gwen and Matt were in surgery. Gwen’s knife wounds hadn’t been life-threatening, but the premature labor pains together with her dangerously high blood pressure had been.
Traci had been forced to stand off to one side feeling completely helpless as more nurses and doctors scrambled into the operating room. That had been over an hour ago.
Now, everything felt suspiciously silent. She kept retracing everything that had happened over the last two months. She’d been one of the most decorated cops in Cleveland. She’d prided herself on being street smart and all business in a crisis.
But neither of those qualities had been apparent of late.
What if she lost this girl before she ever even had a chance to really live? What if both the baby and Gwen died? Traci didn’t know how she was going to be able to live with herself if that happened. She’d promised her that she’d keep her safe and that she’d stop Hunter from ever seeing her again.
She might have failed on both parts.
As the clock ticked on, Traci stared at the closed door leading to the operating rooms. She felt more alone than ever before. Too alone to call her sisters and tell them about Gwen. Too alone to do anything but sit and wait and worry. She had no idea what to do next.
“Traci?” Shannon rushed in. “Oh my word! Dylan told me about Gwen,” she said, r
eaching for her and giving her a hug. Just as Traci lifted her arms to hug her back, Shannon continued. “So, where is she?”
“Surgery.”
Pulling away, her eyes widened. “Goodness, look at you! Are you okay? What happened?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” she murmured.
“What are you talking about?”
“She means that you need to give her a minute, Shannon,” Kimber said as she walked in, moving more slowly than their eldest sister. After giving Traci a gentle hug, she gave Shannon a steady look. “You’re pounding Traci here with questions and not even giving her a minute to breathe.”
“I’m giving her time. Okay, I guess I’m not,” Shannon said with a wince. “I’m sorry, Traci. Do you want to sit down?”
“Hmm? Oh. I will in a minute. Thanks.” Unable to help herself, she looked toward the stainless-steel doors again, but Jennifer and her boyfriend Jack were blocking the way. “Hey, you two.”
“Traci,” Jack murmured.
“Jack was helping me make a meal delivery when we heard the news,” Jennifer explained. “We came right over as soon as we heard. How’s Gwen?”
“We don’t know,” Kimber answered.
“She’s in surgery,” Traci said again.
“Oh, honey, come on. Let’s all go sit down.”
“I’m okay. I think I’ll go walk down the hall . . .”
“Nope.” Kimber clasped her hand. “You need to sit down and relax for a minute, super-cop. You know Gwen’s in good hands.”
The teasing phrase jarred her out of her daze. “I’m far from a super-cop right now.” She not only had failed Gwen, she wasn’t even at the station booking Hunter and Billy.
Shannon shook her head. “I’m not sure what you are thinking, but I heard how wonderful you were. Dylan said that you grabbed hold of that ex-boyfriend of Gwen’s, pulled his arm back and had him against the wall in less than a minute.”
Jack whistled low. “No way. Good for you, Traci.”
“It wasn’t quite like that. Dylan got Billy and everyone else was trying to help Gwen.” She closed her eyes. All that blood. She didn’t know if she’d ever not see it in her dreams.
“Traci, I know you’re worried about Gwen. We all are. I love that little thing,” Kimber said. “But what is going on with you?”
“I know I should have been there for her. I told her I would and I completely failed.” She helplessly gestured toward the steel doors that had remained stubbornly closed. “Matt’s in there with her. Probably a couple of surgeons too. And what looked like a dozen nurses.”
“And it’s silent.”
“Yeah. I’m so afraid she died.” There, she said it.
“Don’t think that way,” Jennifer said. “I can’t speak for what Gwen’s been going through, but you know my story. I was attacked by three men. Though it took me a long time to recover, I never would have made it through without Dylan reminding me of how much I had to look forward to. You need to be positive, Traci. Gwen is going to need to be able to lean on you.”
Traci stared at her in surprise. “Jennifer, I’ve always admired you and considered you to be a survivor, but you are so much more than I realized. You’re a pretty amazing person.”
Jennifer smiled. “Honey, that’s what I’ve been trying to get you to see. We all are.” She gestured around the table. “You, me, Shannon, Kimber, and yes, even Gwen. Maybe even Gwen most of all.”
Looking toward the doors again, she saw they were open and Matt was walking toward them. He wasn’t smiling and his expression was intense.
On shaky legs, she stood up and walked into the hallway. She felt the presence of her sisters walking alongside her, giving her support.
“Matt?”
“Hey, Trace.” He nodded. “Ladies.”
“How’s is Gwen?” she asked.
“Well, I’d say she’s going to have her hands full.”
“Wait, she’s alive?”
His expression grew concerned. “Oh, Traci. Have you really been out here thinking the worst? Honey, yes, she’s alive.” He grinned. “She’s alive, bandaged up, and currently holding a very tiny baby boy.”
“Oh. My. Word. She had the baby?” Kimber asked, awe in her voice.
“We didn’t have much of a choice. He’s right at five pounds and we’re going to double-check his lungs, so he might have to be in NICU for a couple of hours, just to make sure everything’s good, but the pediatrician says he’s a fighter.”
Traci reached for his hands. “You did it! Matt, you saved Gwen and delivered her baby.”
He kissed her brow. “No, you saved Gwen. And Gwen, our very own little fighter, delivered her baby boy. I just helped her along.”
CHAPTER 43
“What we want from modern dance is
courage and audacity.”
—Twyla Tharp
Five Days Later
“You know, Bridge is kind of growing on me,” Officer Lucky said from her chair next to Gwen’s bed.
Gwen, who’d just gotten dressed for the first time in real clothes since her surgery, sat down on the edge of the mattress and looked at her baby fondly. “What do you mean? The baby or the name?”
“Ha-ha. I meant the name, but maybe both?” She cuddled the baby closer to her.
“He likes you a lot. You do a better job feeding him than I do.” For a number of reasons, Gwen hadn’t been allowed to nurse Bridge, and she was secretly thankful for that. He was so small, she was constantly worried about doing something wrong. But Traci and her sisters never seemed as nervous around the baby as she did. Officer Lucky—Traci—was especially attached to Bridge and seemed content to hold him for hours.
That was the reason she’d talked to Melanie, the social worker, and Ellen so long over the last couple of days. Though both cautioned her not to make any major decisions, Gwen was feeling pretty good about the plan she’d come up with.
Now she just had to find a way to talk to Traci about it.
Traci finally looked up from Bridge’s sleeping face. “So, are you ready to get out of here?”
“I am. More than ready. Although, I’m pretty nervous about taking Bridge out of the hospital.”
“You have to keep positive, remember? The nurses said that he’s now a pretty sturdy little guy. He made it back up to five whole pounds, and he’s eating well. There’s a lot of good things to be proud about.”
“I know. It’s just that sometimes he cries and I feel like I don’t know what to do.”
“That’s why you’re coming home with us, right?” Traci asked as she cuddled the baby again. “You won’t be alone.”
Gwen supposed this was as good an opening as she could hope for. “Traci, can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course.” Her brow wrinkled. “Wait, is there something wrong with Bridge or you?”
“No, but it is about me and Bridge . . .” She took a breath. “You see, I’ve been talking to Melanie. She’s the social worker, you know.”
“I know.”
“Well, um, I was telling her about how I feel like such a kid, and Bridge is so little . . .” Her voice drifted off. She knew she wasn’t doing a good job of setting this up.
Traci shifted to face her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I . . .” She cleared her throat. “Traci, I’d like you to consider being Bridge’s foster mother.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to leave you or Bridge or anything. But I, well, I just don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother.” She lifted her chin. “I mean a good mother. A mother to be proud of. But you would be great.” When Traci continued to stare at her, hardly moving a muscle, Gwen talked faster. “Melanie said there are some legal things we have to take care of, but legally you would be Bridge’s foster mother.”
&n
bsp; “His foster mother.”
“Yes. Then, um, maybe even one day, if you wanted . . . you could be his adopted mother. I would still be here. You know, be around, but I could get myself together. Finish high school. Maybe even help Shannon with more classes. Take classes. Help Jennifer with her business, ’cause she’s getting really busy now.” Feeling like she was talking in circles, Gwen finished up. “You know, I’m hoping I could actually be something besides what I am now.”
Traci pursed her lips. “I don’t know what to say.”
Gwen felt like crying. Shoot, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to ask Traci right. Holding out her arms, she said, “It’s okay. I’ll take him. Sorry I asked.”
“No, no.”
“Sorry?”
“I meant, Gwen, I’m honored that you’ve asked me to do this. So honored I’m speechless, and we know that doesn’t happen very often.”
“Wait . . . you’re not mad at me?”
“Am I mad that you’ve asked me to help you raise your beautiful baby?” She shook her head. “No, honey. I’m not mad.”
Carefully holding the baby, Traci stood up and sat next to Gwen. “I want to think about it and talk to Matt and my sisters. It’s a lifelong commitment, right?”
“Right.”
“But more importantly, this is something I want you to feel at peace with. I don’t want you to wake up in a month and wish that you’d never asked me to do this. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“How about we go home and play it by ear for the next thirty days. I’ll help with Bridge as much as I can, and you think about being his mom.”
“And if I don’t change my mind and you still want him?”
“I would love to be Bridge’s mother, Gwen. I would love it. But listen to me,” she added, as she held out a hand to her. “I want to be someone for you too.”
“Like my mom?”
“Now, I’m a little young to have an eighteen-year-old. But maybe I could be your big sister?”
Hope flared in her heart. “Are you sure you want another sister?”
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