by Cox, Whitley
Myles appeared almost bored. “All right, I’m gonna fuck you, and then I’ll get rid of you all.”
Krista’s hand fell to her abdomen, her eyes roaming Wendy and Marlise’s faces. Tears welled up in Wendy’s eyes, and Marlise shook with fear.
The staff sergeant nodded, his face betraying his disgust in Myles. “You want me to take care of these two, then?” He jerked his strong chin toward the other two women.
Myles frowned before bobbing his head. “May as well.”
“No!” Krista screamed, trying to wrench her arm free from Myles. “NO!” But he was stronger than her. She was no match. His fingers dug painful trenches into her arm as he lugged her farther down the hall toward her bedroom. “Please, Myles. Don’t do this. Don’t hurt Wendy and Marlise. You’re better than this. Please don’t hurt my baby.”
He tossed her onto the bed, and with the gun in one hand, he kneed her legs apart and climbed on top of her. His fingers wrapped around her throat. “I bet you like it rough, don’t you? Like that big Neanderthal boyfriend of yours fuckin’ you hard.” He slapped her hard across the face with the gun-heavy hand. Stars burst behind her eyes and her stomach lurched. He was straddling her belly, and the pain, the pressure was too much.
“Myles … please,” she cried.
“That’s right, bitch, beg for it.”
He smacked her hard again across the face before lurching off her and standing at the foot of the bed. Refusing to let go of the gun, his hands fumbled with the high Spandex panel of her maternity jeans.
Her mind, as throbbing and fuzzy as it was, immediately went to the gun on her ankle. He was going to find it.
She lifted her head and noticed her foot was right between his legs. He was struggling to get her pants down her thighs. She needed to act fast before she was immobilized.
His head was down, and he was deep in concentration, so she levered herself up and kicked him hard in the balls. Then, pushing herself up, she head-butted him, sending a cursing and groaning Myles back against the wall.
“You fucking bitch!” he wailed, his hand over his crotch. Blood gushed out of his nose. She’d gotten him good. Krista quickly took inventory of his hands and realized he was gun-free.
Where was the gun?
Ignoring the pounding in her skull, and with lightning reflexes, she reached for the gun on her ankle holster. She cocked the small snub-nose .38 just as Myles lifted his head.
“You’re under arrest,” she whispered.
His chuckle made her skin crawl. And now with the red blood all over his face, he really did look like the creepy clown that wanted to peel off her face.
Then he charged her.
She pulled the trigger. Twice. Double-tapped center mass to stop the threat. Myles stopped, a stunned expression on his face just before he collapsed forward on top of her.
Shoot to kill.
Or be killed.
Thunderous footsteps coming down the hall had her cocking her gun again and aiming it at the door. Even with Myles’s body on top of her, she could still defend herself, defend the baby. The door flung open, and the staff sergeant, gun in hand, stood there. Without a second thought, Krista shot him in the shoulder, causing the gun to fly from his hand.
Then she leveled the barrel at his chest. “It doesn’t have to end this way, sir,” she said smoothly even though her entire body hurt from the weight of Myles on top of her. “Let us help you.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” he said, regret in his voice. His free hand pressed into the gunshot to stop the bleeding. “If only the three of you didn’t know so much.” He stepped forward, no fear on his face. Only … acceptance?
She had no idea if the staff sergeant had “taken care of” Wendy and Marlise yet. She only hoped that he hadn’t and she could get out and save them. His eyes landed on Myles’s gun on the floor by the door. He reached for it.
Only Krista was faster.
Shoot to kill.
Or be killed.
He didn’t even have a chance to stand back up before his body crumpled to the ground.
Krista’s ears were ringing from the gunshots, and her body raged in pain from Myles’s dead weight. She wasn’t sure if that was just her pulse pounding in her ears or boots thundering down the hall.
Suddenly, Myles’s body was being pulled from hers, and there was Brock, his face a mix of terror and then, when she blinked at him, relief.
“Oh thank fuck,” he breathed, hauling her up and pulling her into his chest. Rex and Heath appeared in the doorway as well, their eyes surveying the scene.
“Holy shit,” Heath murmured. He knelt down and checked the staff sergeant’s pulse. “He’s still alive.”
Rex checked Myles’s pulse. “This one’s not.”
“Wendy? Marlise?” She was going into shock, but she had to know if her friends were okay.
Brock’s arms around her loosened, and he held her by the shoulders. “They’re okay.”
Krista finally let out a full breath, the tears of relief tumbling down her cheeks as her body began to shake.
Brock pulled her back into his arms, shushing and stroking her head. “It’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”
Wendy and Marlise appeared in the doorway, Chase looming behind them like a grumpy mountain.
“Thank God,” Wendy whispered, pushing her way into the room. Brock released Krista, and Wendy went to hug her when Krista doubled over from the sudden stab of pain to her belly, crying out as it spread around her entire midsection and into her back.
Brock’s hands landed on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?
Another shard of pain, this one harder and longer. She fell to her knees on the bedroom floor, and that’s when she noticed the dampness between her legs and the blood staining her gray pants.
“I—I think there’s something wrong with the baby.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Gutted.
Shredded.
Broken.
That barely scratched the surface of how Brock felt sitting in the hospital room, staring at Krista as she slept. Her face, her beautiful porcelain face was all purple and bruised from that bastard Slade, and cuts above her eye were held together with butterfly bandages.
He didn’t want to close his eyes, but he couldn’t fight it any longer and let them drift shut.
“Where is she?”
His eyes popped open to meet confused blue orbs of perfection.
“Where is she?” she asked again.
A lump bounced thick and heavy in his throat. “She’s in the NICU.”
“Is she … ” She batted away a tear. “Is she going to live?”
Krista licked her lips, and Brock leapt to his feet, bringing a straw to her mouth so she could drink. Staring up at him with conviction, she chugged her water. She had more to say, but her thirst was winning the war at the moment. Goddamn, his woman was fierce.
She finished and pushed the cup away. “Brock?”
He closed his eyes for a moment and felt a hand on his. She squeezed him tightly, and he opened his eyes. She moved over in the bed and invited him to join her. The springs and gears squealed and groaned from the strain of taking on his big, tired body.
She turned on her side with a groan of her own and rested her hand on his chest. “Tell me.”
“They say she’s strong and a fighter. She’s twenty-eight weeks; twenty-four weeks is viable, remember? She’s got four extra weeks of viability. She’s a fighter, just like her mama.”
God, his heart hurt. The baby was so tiny. And Krista, fuck, they’d nearly lost her. She’d tried for a natural birth, labored for hours, but just couldn’t, and they ended up rushing her into the OR for an emergency C-section. Then right after the baby was born, she started to hemorrhage and was losing too much blood. She was bleeding internally, and they needed to operate. The baby hadn’t even been born for five minutes before Krista was being put under and Brock and the baby were being rushed down the hal
lway to the NICU. All the while, Brock didn’t know if either of his girls were going to make it. His heart hurt from how close it’d come to shattering.
“I want to see her,” Krista whispered.
He fought back a yawn before kissing the top of her head. “You need to rest.”
“I want to see her. She’s my baby. I need to see her. I need her to know that her mother is here and loves her.” She looked up into his eyes pleadingly. “I need to see her. If she doesn’t make it, I … ” She choked on her words. “I at least need to know what she looks like.”
He nodded before prying himself up off the bed to go and retrieve the wheelchair.
“She’s so small,” Krista croaked moments later after they’d bullied and cajoled their way into the NICU. It was after hours, but like hell was his woman going to let them dictate when she could and couldn’t see her child.
Emotion choked him. “She’s a fighter,” he said once again. She had to be a fighter. Her mother was the strongest, most stubborn woman Brock had ever met, and if that little girl had even half the strength and ferocity of Krista, she was going to pull through and then give them all a run for their money. Challenging them at every turn.
He couldn’t wait.
Her hands were the size of a thimble, while her teeny tiny feet looked like no more than doll feet, pink and wrinkly and absolutely perfect. She had a chest tube and was intubated, as they said she was struggling to breathe on her own when she was born. A series of monitors were on her chest and head to check her heart rate and brain activity. But even preemie, she had a full head of red hair beneath the tiny pink and green toque, and her mother’s tight fists of determination.
“She’s perfect.” Krista put her hand on the glass. They both wanted so desperately to touch her, to feel her pulse beneath their fingertips.
He crouched down beside her and laced his fingers through Krista’s. They couldn’t touch their child, but they could still be connected to each other.
“So, Hannah?” she asked quietly.
Brock studied the baby. She didn’t look like a Hannah. Hannah was a pretty name, but it wasn’t the name of a warrior, and this little girl was a warrior. She had to be. He shook his head. “No, she doesn’t look like a Hannah.”
She nodded and pursed her lips together.
“What about Zoe?” he suggested.
Taking her eyes off their amazing little human for just a second, she looked at him. “Zoe?”
“Yeah. I found it in that baby name book you had lying on the coffee table. What do you think?”
“What does it mean?”
“It means Life. Which I think is quite fitting, don’t you? She’s our life.”
She blinked back tears and cupped his cheek. “Look at you being all sentimental.”
He smiled and leaned into her hand. “I have my moments.”
She nodded and looked back at the baby. “It’s perfect. Zoe … Zoe Elaine Joy Hart. I love it. It’s perfect, just like her.”
Brock took the opportunity of her distraction and dropped to one knee. “Marry me.”
Her head flew back, and she gaped at him. She shook her head with utter disbelief on her tired, beautiful face. “I told you not to ask me until you were—”
He cut her off. “I know. Marry me.”
“Brock, I—” But instead of waiting for her to answer, he took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. There was always going to be a power struggle between the two of them, he just knew it.
“I love you. I think I’ve always loved you. From the moment you asked me if my place was stumbling distance and then proceeded to pound back tequila like a frat boy, I’ve loved you. And yesterday you could have died, our baby could have died, and the thought of not having you or Zoe in my life makes me want to die, too. Marry me, Krista.”
She swallowed and traced the beautiful diamond solitaire with her finger. “Can we do it now? Like tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” There was no hiding the surprise in his voice.
She nodded. “I don’t want to wait. We can do a big ceremony later on if we want, but I want to be your wife now. I want to have the same last name as Zoe, as you. We can do the legal bit with the license later when I’m out of the hospital. But in the eyes of our family, in our hearts, I want to be your wife now.”
His head bobbed up and down with frantic conviction. “I’ll call Chase and have him come by first thing in the morning.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. If it wasn’t for the big smile he’d be worried. “Why Chase?”
Brock quirked one eyebrow as he dug out his phone. “Because among other things, he’s also a marriage commissioner.”
Her laughter was music to his ears. “Well, that’s convenient.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next day Chase showed up, along with Rex, Heath and Joy. Although Krista would have liked to have had her parents and brother there as well, she didn’t want to wait any longer. They knew what had happened to her and were on their way. They would be arriving in the next couple of days. But a couple of days was too long; she wanted to be Mrs. Brock Hart immediately.
Looking at herself in the mirror after a painful shower, she burst into tears. Her cheeks were cut up from Myles’s beating. She was sore from Zoe’s birth, the emergency C-section and surgery. This was not how brides were supposed to look on their wedding day. Along with lacerations and scratches, she was black and blue across half her face. She hardly recognized herself, and what she did recognize she didn’t like.
“Everything okay in there?” Brock asked through the closed bathroom door. She knew his whole family was waiting for her in her room, waiting to start the ceremony, but she couldn’t face them. She couldn’t let them see her looking like one of those women from the domestic violence cases she used to go out on.
“Just fine,” she called back, wiping the tears from her cheeks, their saltiness causing her scratches to sting. “Be out in a second.”
There was another knock at the door, but this time the person didn’t wait for her to answer, and the knob turned. It was Joy. “Sorry, dear, you can kick me out if you like, but it ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before. Do you need some help getting dressed?”
Krista thought for sure Joy was going to gasp and cry or turn away when she saw her face, but she didn’t. Instead she held out a big, plush, white bathrobe—where on earth did she get it? It was a hospital, not a hotel. Krista slipped her arms through it. It hugged her body like a fuzzy polar bear.
“Brock’s daddy saved me from an abusive relationship,” she started, tucking a strand of hair behind Krista’s ear as she tightened the belt on the robe. “I remember bruises and scratches like these ones, and not fondly.” Krista’s eyes went wide. Joy nodded and continued. “Zane was my neighbor in an apartment building. He heard my boyfriend at the time roughing me up and came over. Kicked the crap out of him and whisked me away. We were together after that. And nine months later, Brock joined the party.”
“B-Brock was a … ”
“One-night stand?” She shook her head. “No. But I’d only been with Zane for about a month before I found out I was pregnant. We got married right away, of course. Because that’s what you did back then.”
Krista hadn’t even been paying attention as Joy was talking, but she’d pulled some concealer and blush out from somewhere and was mindlessly touching up Krista’s face.
“He was the love of my life. And I’m sure that if he were still alive today, we’d be married and happy. Celebrating the birth of our first grandchild.”
“H-how did you know?”
“Know what, dear?” She motioned for Krista to close her eyes and then brushed shadow across the lids.
“That he was love of your life?”
“I felt it in my very marrow. Sure, I’ve had lovers over the years … ”
Krista opened her eyes. Joy’s wink was playful with just a hint of sass in her smile.
“Don
’t tell the boys. We may be open about sex in the house, but some things need to be kept private.” Krista nodded and closed her eyelids again. “But Zane, he was my other half. We balanced each other out. Where I am mellow and methodical, he was hot-headed and spontaneous. We fought like crazy over the years, but we always made up.”
“I’m in love with Brock.” Krista swallowed, feeling that for some reason she needed to let Joy know how she felt about her son.
“I know you are. I saw it instantly when you walked through my door on Christmas Eve, and every look you gave him after that. A love like that can be hard to hide and even harder to find.”
“We’re both control freaks, though.”
She smiled knowingly and held out a tissue for Krista to blot her lipstick. “Makes the sex interesting, doesn’t it?” Krista’s eyes went wide. Joy lifted one shoulder. “So your relationship is unorthodox. Most good ones are. But don’t let that hold you back from love because you think it’s going to be a constant power struggle. Zane and I had the same problem. He was an alpha just like his boys, and I like things a certain way as well.”
There was another knock at the door. “Everything okay?”
“We’ll be right out,” Joy called, giving Krista a motherly smile. “If you’re not ready, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this today. Just because he’s my son doesn’t mean I won’t support you in whatever decision you make.” She reached for Krista’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
Krista caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Joy had done an incredible job. She almost looked presentable.
Krista flashed her a giant grin. “I’m ready.”
She was just coming out of the bathroom, ready to marry the man of her dreams and the father of her child, when her hospital room burst open.
“We didn’t miss it, did we?” Krista’s mother asked frantically, her hair all askew. Dark gray bags glommed on to the normally tight skin beneath her eyes, making her look at least ten if not fifteen years older.
“Just in time.” Joy smiled, walking over to Krista’s parents and brother, introducing herself.