The Traitor’s Baby: Reaper’s Hearts MC

by Nicole Fox

  “No,” I say. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure it’s just a stomach bug or something.”

  He narrows his eyes as he looks at my stomach. I’m not more than seven or eight weeks pregnant. I don’t even have an appointment to confirm it for another two weeks. I can’t possibly look pregnant, though he told me earlier I looked like a whale. I give him a rueful smile as I gather my things back into my purse. As I stand, though, I feel woozy again, the cramps forcing me to sit back down in a nearby office chair.

  “That’s it,” he says. “I am taking you to the hospital. No arguments.”

  Sergei holds my elbow the whole way out to the parking garage. He insists on helping me put on my seatbelt. As it clicks into place, I feel sick with a sense that I am not safe, even as he says, “I’ll take good care of you, Selena.”

  He drops me at the emergency room at Brooklyn Hospital and says he’s going to go park the car. I assure him he doesn’t need to stay, that I’ll be fine, but he says he insists. He wants to personally oversee my care.

  I head to the check-in desk and share as quickly as I can that I believe I’m pregnant. I tell them my boss brought me here, that I don’t want him to know any of my medical business. I can hear in my voice the threat of tears. The nurse assures me that she’ll make a note that doctors and nurses are not to discuss my medical information with anyone but me. I breathe for the first time since I arrived.

  After filling out paperwork and getting a plastic wristband, a young woman in a candy-striped dress brings a wheelchair. She wheels me to the elevator, up a few levels, and then down a few hallways. I’m taken immediately to an area cordoned off into four tiny triage suites, surrounded by curtains and each with only enough room for a bed and a sink.

  I’m helped out of the chair and told to put on the hospital gown that is neatly folded on the bed, that a nurse will be in in just a moment. After doing as told and climbing onto the bed, I send Finn a quick text.

  Selena: Hospital. Don’t Come. S is here.

  Finn: Hospital?

  Selena: Cramping. No stress.

  I delete everything as soon as I get a thumbs-up in response.

  When the nurse comes in, she takes my temperature, blood pressure, and asks me my weight and height. She says, “The notes say you fainted today, and that you experienced extreme cramping. And that you’re pregnant? Do you know about how far along?”

  I give a little shrug, peering past her just to make sure Sergei isn’t waiting outside the curtain. “My boss brought me here,” I say in a low, desperate voice. “He can’t know I’m pregnant. Not yet.”

  She gives one big, knowing nod. “What does he look like?” she asks.

  I give a description and she promises that he’ll be asked to wait in the waiting room and not permitted into my hospital room before she tells me she’ll be back with the doctor in a few minutes.

  A few minutes stretches into a few more, and it has been nearly an hour before anyone comes back into the little triage suite. A squat but kind-looking female doctor introduces herself as Doctor McElroy.

  “Have you had any bleeding?” she asks.

  “No,” I say.

  “Morning sickness?”

  “Lots, yes,” I say. “And I’ve been stressed at work, so it’s probably just that.”

  “Well, maybe,” she says before giving a pointed look at my wedding rings. “Husband?”

  I open my mouth then shut it quickly. “He’s not around.”

  “Asshole,” the doctor says with a wink. “And I’m told that you’re worried about your boss learning you’re pregnant?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It’s so early, and I just started this job a few weeks ago. I just … he can be volatile. I’m not ready to tell him. I need this job. You know?”

  “I got you, girl,” she says, patting my arm.

  “Thank you,” I say with a relieved sigh. “Do you … do you think the baby’s okay? I mean … do you think I’m miscarrying?”

  “I need to do a few things before I can answer that question. For now, I need you to lie back and relax.”

  Doctor McElroy pokes around my abdomen, asking me where things hurt. She finds a tender spot and I cringe, which makes her cringe and ask a nurse to have an ultrasound machine brought in. When that nurse leaves, another comes in and whispers something in the doctor’s ear. She frowns and excuses herself, scurrying out of the small space, the sound of the surrounding curtain scraping on the rail and sending a shiver down my spine.

  ***

  Finn

  Well, shit. Now I’m worried. Selena’s at the hospital and that murderous criminal is there with her. What would Kovolov do if he knew she was pregnant? I have images of him kicking her in the stomach in my head and it makes me sick, bile rising in my throat as I debate about going in and just putting the guy down right there in the hospital, come what may.

  Of course, walking into a hospital and blasting away like some gangster is not the best course of action. I know that. So I decide I need to use the empty office to my advantage. If Kovolov is focused on Selena, and Selena is in a fairly safe and public place, then that means the office is dark. Selena’s given me a lot of good stuff, but I need more. And I need to see it myself. This is my chance.

  I park a couple of blocks away, happy to find a new security guard on duty at the front desk. He’s on the phone, engaged in what sounds like an intense argument with someone. He doesn’t even see me slip past him and to the stairwell.

  The hallway is dark, leaving me the opportunity to jimmy the lock on the door and slip inside. I waste no time, rifling through every filing cabinet, box, and pile of papers in the place. It will look like a break-in, because I’ve left a huge mess, and that’s fine with me. I want it to look random. I realize Selena’s found most of the relevant paper files, so I move on to Kovolov’s computer. I just need a few more pieces of evidence in order to pull this off.

  Selena’s already shared the passwords and I told her what I needed but with her out of commission at the hospital, I know the time is now to finish this. I find what I need and send it to a private email address that I only use for private business. Just as I hit send, though, I feel my whole body go cold.

  I didn’t even hear them come in, but there they are. Two of Kovolov’s thugs, both in black, both packing serious heat, staring me right in the face, smug grins on their faces.

  “You think our boss does not have security in place?” one asks.

  I open my mouth and only a light laugh comes out. Selena never mentioned any security system, which means he’s been watching everything she’s done. Every copy she’s made. Every file she’s printed. Everything. My stomach drops straight into my shoes.

  “We can see that you understand the gravity of the situation,” the other says. “Come with us. Quietly.”

  I stand, really wishing I had armed myself before this impulsive mission. Fuck. These guys are going to put me in a concrete boot and shove me into the East River. The guys pat me down, taking my phone before grabbing me by the arms. I’m shocked at how big they are. I mean, I’m a big dude and these guys seem humongous. One is blond and one is dark-haired but other than that, they look very similar. They look like clones. It’s weird.

  It won’t be possible to muscle my way out of this. Even if I could get away, they’ve got guns and I’d bet money they can draw and shoot faster than I can run out of this maze. That means I’ll have to think my way out of this. It’s not my life I’m so worried about—it’s Selena’s. I need to get out of this so I can get to her, get her to safety.

  I walk calmly and they take me down several flights of stairs, into a basement storage area full of locked cages of office supplies and furniture. One, bare apart from a single chair, shows the stains of previous guests on the concrete floor.

  I’m shoved to the chair but not tied up. One guy keeps watch, arms crossed over his chest, while the other stands outside the cage, making a phone call. With no way to warn Selena, I start t
o sweat. There’s really no way out of this that isn’t bloody, and Kovolov’s likely to just tell them to shoot me.

  I can’t hear the conversation over the loud fan that runs in this dank space. Some sort of air management system to keep all of this storage stuff from getting moldy or something, but it provides perfect cover for violence, as well. It’s like being in a tomb in the center of the earth.

  As the second thug steps back into the space, he walks right up and takes a swing, busting me in the nose. I hear the sickening crack and then taste the coppery tang of blood as it leaks down to my lips.

  Another punch. “What were you looking for?”

  I don’t answer, so I get a boot to the chest that sends me and the chair backward, my head smacking on the hard floor. I see stars and in the moment I’m disoriented, they kick me in the stomach and ribs.

  This goes on and on, until they get bored. The blond one finally says, “We already know your girlfriend was stealing information. We know you’re collecting. But why?”

  “Does it matter why?” I ask.

  “Mm,” the blond guy grunts. “No. Boss is just curious. He’ll kill you either way.”

  Ah, so there we go. He wants to kill me himself. If I had to guess, probably with Selena watching. This may be a good thing for me. It means I have time. I just need to think.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Selena

  There is a being the size of a peanut inside of me. It doesn’t look like much—a gummy bear, if I stretch my imagination a little, but definitely not a baby. But it has a strong, healthy heartbeat—a fast, swishing sound that’s melting my heart right about now.

  I swallow back the lump that forms in my throat. My husband, wherever he is, at least left me one good thing.

  “I think everything looks really good,” the doctor says. “Every woman’s body is different. Some women spot the whole way through their pregnancies; some have false contractions. I’ll take you at your word that you’ve just been under stress and I’ll ask you to try to take it easy from here out. You are about nine weeks along and your hormone levels are strong, so you have just three more weeks of your first trimester. You should start to feel a little better after that.”

  “Is my boss still lurking around?” I ask.

  “He is impatiently pacing the waiting room, yes,” she answers. “He has nearly been thrown out of the hospital at least twice, that I know of.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. “What did he do?”

  “Told the staff he would make a big donation if we let him see you. Threatened to have a helicopter land on the helipad to transport you to a private hospital in Russia. Threatened a security guard, a nurse, and someone else’s loved one.”

  I cringe. “I’m sorry.”

  “Strange behavior from an employer, if you ask me,” she says. “Anything you want to tell me?”

  I grunt a negative sound and shake my head. “Nope.”

  “You know you’re safe here,” she says. “Is the baby his?”

  A snort escapes me. “No. Definitely not.”

  “He’s acting like a man in love,” she says. “A man who is used to getting what he wants, too.”

  “The second part is true,” I say. “He’s used to getting what he wants. But he’s not in love. He’s a control freak. And an abuser.”

  “Ah,” she says. “So he abuses you?”

  I shrug and look away.

  “Should I call the police?” she asks.

  “It would just make things worse,” I say. “I’ve got a friend and he’s working to help me get stable enough to leave the job. But I need it right now. My husband left me with a ton of debt, and he was the only person who would hire me.”

  She sits at the edge of my little bed. “Selena, I don’t have a medical reason to admit you here, but I’m reticent about sending you home with him. Is there someone you can call? A friend?”

  I shake my head. “I have a friend but … Sergei and he don’t … they can’t come face to face.”

  “Well, why don’t you call him and see if he can meet you at the east entrance. I’ll get you out of here before your boss even knows you’re gone.”

  “Really?” I ask, putting my hand to my chest. “That would be amazing.”

  She pats my leg. “Give him a call. Make the arrangements and have a nurse grab me when you’re ready.”

  I shoot Finn a text, then: Pick me up at east hospital entrance? He doesn’t answer right away, so I sit and go through old photos of me and Matt. My heart hurts a little bit, thinking about what I thought we had, about the man I thought he was. But that life, that Wall Street life, it wasn’t really me. Thing is, I’m not sure who I really am, what I really want. I never pictured myself as a mother, not really, but now that I know this little peanut is inside of me, I know I will do anything to protect it. A mom is who I will be. I just have to survive Sergei Kovolov.

  I send another text: Everything OK? Five minutes pass. Ten. No answer.

  When Sergei throws the curtain back on my little space, I about jump out of my skin.

  “These fuckers haven’t let me back to see you in all these hours,” he says, his face drawn into a deep frown “I’m ready to kill someone.”

  “Well, don’t do that,” I say. “I’m fine. About to be released.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Selena? It’s not nothing, or they’d have sent you home hours ago.”

  “Just a virus, they think,” I lie. “They were waiting on blood tests. Something like mono, maybe. Like stress-related.”

  He softens a bit like this. “Well, I suppose I have been a bear lately. I apologize. May I drive you to my place? Take care of you for a while?”

  My heart races at this. Why hasn’t Finn texted me back?

  The doctor storms into the small space and demands to know how Sergei got in here.

  “You are not allowed to be back here,” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I told you this already.”

  “No one will tell me anything,” he says. “I had to see her for myself. Now she says she’s ready to go home. I can take her.”

  “You are not related to her,” the doctor says. “We can’t share any information with you, and you can’t be back here. Go back out in the waiting room.”

  “No, I will not,” he says, his ire rising. “She’s already told me she’s got something viral. Nothing to be done but rest, so I will be taking her now.”

  As the two argue with each other, nurses and a security guard get involved and I am temporarily forgotten. My phone buzzes and I grab it quickly. The text from Finn reads: Fuck this. You’re on your own.

  My stomach sinks. He’s giving up. Moving on. I’m really all alone, knowing what I know about Sergei. And yet, it’s Sergei who’s been here for several hours, waiting for me. And the person I thought cared about me—he’s just gone. A text kiss-off and he’s on his way, back to his old life, our plan and my safety forgotten.

  I thought I could trust Finn. I shared my body with him and I thought we’d gotten close. I mean, I don’t know if it was love or anything, but what I felt was real. I thought it was real for him, too. When I met him, I saw a cold-hearted, money-focused bastard. But I grew to see someone else, someone who could help me. I guess my initial perception was correct.

  I’ll have to do this by myself then.

  “It’s okay,” I say, too quietly at first. They can’t hear me over the arguing. I clear my throat and increase the volume of my voice. “Hey! Stop arguing!”

  Everyone looks at me and I say, “It’s okay. Sergei, go get the car. I’ll get checked out or whatever and meet you outside.”

  He looks smug as he walks over and pushed my hair from my face. He puts a kiss on my forehead and then walks out, leaving the room feeling airless, stifling.

  “Selena,” the doctor says, “Are you sure about this?”

  “What choice do I have?” I ask, near tears. I take a big breath in, then let it back out slowly to center myself. “I’ll be fin
e. It’ll be fine.”

  She pushes her lips into a thin line and nods sharply. “There are resources … if you need them. I’ll give you my card. Call my office and check in if you need something.”

  “Thanks,” I say quietly, afraid that if I speak too loudly, she’ll hear the quaver in my voice.

  Only a few minutes later, I’m back in my clothes and making my way back to the patient pick-up area, where Sergei’s dark-windowed, designer car awaits. I slide into the front seat and he peels out. The way his jaw ticks, I can tell he’s angry, and it ratchets my anxiety level right up to level sixty immediately. Anxiety gnaws at my stomach and I find it hard to breathe. I sit on my hands to keep them from shaking. My vision is blurry.