Superior Collision

by C. A. Szarek

  “No.”

  “Remind me to tell you the same when you are, then.”

  Her partner smirked, and she could finally see just one of him.

  She hissed when he pushed on her arm again. “Bennett?” she panted.

  “He’s down, but alive. Dunno how many times he was hit, but I tackled him after he bowled into you. I’m guessing some of the blood on you is his.”

  Taylor looked down. The front of her shirt was stained red, as were her slacks. “Dammit, I wanted to snap the cuffs on myself.”

  “I know you did, partner. But we got him. I’m glad you’re okay. You scared the shit outta me. I thought for sure the blood was from your head, but you’re not even cut.”

  “Hard head,” she managed.

  “You said it, not me.”

  She tried to glare, but her arm was demanding all her attention. Pain was her new state of being. It hurt so bad her teeth chattered, overriding the ache in her temples. Blood trickled down to her wrist. “Where’s my gun?”

  “Right here.” Holman gestured with his head. The Glock rested on the concrete between them.

  “Holster it for me, will you?”

  He did, but admonished her to put pressure on her wound with her left hand.

  Finally sirens wailed, interrupting the organized chaos of their little raid. Three PPD police cruisers pulled in behind the two ambulances.

  “How long was I out?”

  “A few minutes, probably. Felt like longer.” Her partner’s brow was drawn tight, his concern palpable.

  “Vargas and his sister?” Taylor croaked. She couldn’t see them among the moving figures.

  “Fine. He threw himself over her and they took cover beside the bed. Bennett was shooting at us, not them. Vargas is still turning himself in, but we may need to make a few calls. Prosecutors need to know he cooperated.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “Of course you will.” Holman chuckled.

  “Don’t placate me.”

  “Never.” The twinkle was back in his eyes.

  If Taylor wasn’t hurting so badly, she would’ve told him off.

  Thankfully the paramedics interrupted them and loaded her on a gurney, despite her protests, but when her partner told them he’d ride in the back next to her, she didn’t argue.

  * * * *

  Taylor’s arm burned and she bit back a curse. She hated hospitals, and she’d been awake for a few hours now. The minor surgery to get the bullet out had only lasted an hour. It hadn’t done any damage to her bones—just torn flesh that hurt like a bitch. The anesthesia was wearing off, and her arm throbbed from shoulder to elbow.

  She didn’t want more pain meds—a clear head was what she needed. Taylor wasn’t groggy at the moment, and they’d let her get dressed, though it was in FBI sweatpants and a loose tee her partner had brought her.

  Holman was holding up the wall next to her bed, worry etched in his expression. If he apologized one more time, she was totally going to kick his ass.

  “What the hell is taking so long?” she grumbled. The nurse had told them she was in the queue to be discharged a good forty-five minutes before. They’d already kept her overnight, she couldn’t take any more.

  Her partner’s gaze glued to her in two seconds flat.

  Damn, his eyes are so blue.

  Too bad she preferred amber.

  She jolted and tried not to think about Shannon. She’d told him via text message she’d been shot—not a good plan. Taylor had been in the middle of doctors and nurses, about to get rushed into surgery yesterday—and in a hell of a lot of pain. She hadn’t been able to respond, and Shannon had fired off worried texts, escalating with every non-answer. Not to mention the calls she hadn’t answered. She hadn’t been able to, but really hadn’t wanted to, either.

  Right before they’d wheeled her in, she’d thrust her phone at Holman and asked him to take care of it, but Taylor hadn’t explained a damn thing. She’d just said, “Will you answer him?”

  Her partner had obeyed, but now he knew she had someone in her life…

  Her message history told her the two men had texted the whole time she’d been under, until she’d gotten to Recovery. At least her sergeant had calmed, and knew she was fine.

  His messages had started up first thing that morning, and Taylor had texted back herself, letting him know she was leaving the hospital soon. That day. If the doc didn’t let her go, she’d walk. She was fine.

  Shannon had said he’d been about to get on a plane. She’d smiled about that, but had shot him down quick. Told him she’d see him when she got home.

  Why had it been so important for Shannon to be the first to be told she’d been shot, priority over everyone else?

  She bit back a wince that had nothing to do with her injury. There was no hiding Shannon’s concern in the messages.

  Holman would’ve put two and two together, even if he hadn’t read the whole thread, but he’d had time.

  Taylor could only hope he hadn’t been nosy enough to read everything between her and Shannon.

  “Are you all right?” The demand made her look at her partner again. He was studying her in a way that had her squirming.

  “Yes. I want out of here.”

  “Just—”

  “Ms. Carrigan?” The young doctor who’d assisted in her surgery appeared inside her private room.

  She’d already spoken to him that morning. He’d been the one to tell her she could be cut loose. Baker wanted them back in Dallas, but they had a few things to wrap up with the Phoenix office, too.

  Holman straightened, hovering over the bed like he had to protect her.

  Taylor cut off her instinctive glare. She should thank him for his concern, too, but it only irritated her. She cleared her throat. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry for the delay on your discharge, but there’s a reason.”

  “Is everything okay?” Holman asked.

  She threw him a glance and arched an eyebrow, then looked back at the doctor. She didn’t chastise her partner. He’d schooled his expression fast, like he knew he was butting in, and that was enough for her.

  “Yes, but your bloodwork brought something to our attention.” The doctor fidgeted in his scrubs, looking at Taylor then at Holman. “Do you want him to…?”

  “He’s my partner, it’s fine. Is something wrong with me?” Taylor’s heart skipped, but she tried to square her shoulders. She should kick Holman out if she was about to get medical news, no matter the nature. It wasn’t any of his business, and besides, she’d already put in an overshare with him finding out about Shannon.

  But, for some reason, she didn’t want to face whatever it was alone. Taylor would rather have her lover there, but she trusted her partner, too.

  “No, ma’am. You’re healthy, and as we talked about earlier, very lucky the bullet didn’t do more damage to your biceps. No sign of concussion, either.”

  “Well, then—?” Holman said.

  “You’re pregnant.”

  Taylor blinked. “No.” The denial was fast, but a whisper instead of the yell it should’ve been.

  “Since you took a tumble when you were shot, we want to get an ultrasound to make sure the baby’s okay. Make sure you’re both fine.”

  “But I can’t be—” She snapped her mouth shut and looked at Holman.

  “I’m gonna step out.” His voice was low, but he didn’t look uncomfortable about the bomb that’d just been dropped.

  Panic clawed up her throat and a lump formed. Tears burned the corners of her eyes and Taylor swallowed. She didn’t try to speak. She forced a nod to her partner. He squeezed her hand on his way out, and she wanted to hate that, but perhaps she needed the comfort.

  The doctor went on, but the words just made her head spin. Didn’t compute, like he was speaking another language.

  I can’t be pregnant.

  She was on birth control.

  She just couldn’t be…

  “I’m on bi
rth control,” Taylor blurted.

  “Were you on antibiotics for any reason?”

  “No.” She shook her head for effect. As if it would change her…situation.

  Pregnant?

  No way. Just… Hell no.

  She started shaking. Head to toe. Wanted to clutch the blanket she’d shoved to the end of the narrow bed.

  “I see that this is a shock to you.”

  That was putting it mildly, but Taylor couldn’t form words.

  “Sometimes, a very small percentage of the time, birth control fails. Were you taking the pill as prescribed? Did you miss any?”

  “No, I didn’t miss,” she croaked.

  “Well, let’s start by checking you out right now, then you can think about options. We need to make sure your fall didn’t cause any harm to you or the baby.”

  Baby.

  The word jolted her all over.

  She gripped the bed sheet so tight her knuckles whitened and ached.

  No.

  Taylor had never wanted kids. Never planned on them, even with John. She’d had him and the FBI, and that was enough. All she’d ever wanted.

  This wasn’t John’s…baby.

  It was Shannon’s.

  I can’t do this.

  Tears spilled. She tried to wipe them away, but she couldn’t clear her vision. She cursed every one.

  “I’ve put the orders in, Ms. Carrigan. Someone from Radiology will come get you soon. Do you have any idea how far along you might be? Did you miss a period?”

  “What?”

  The doctor gently repeated his questions and heat burned her cheeks.

  Get it together. Deal with this.

  She remembered the first weekend with Shannon. They’d only used a condom once. And that was five weeks ago now. So… It could’ve happened any of the times they were together. She’d been so busy she hadn’t paid attention to her menstrual cycle.

  Taylor had had cramps, but no bleeding. She hadn’t stopped to worry about it. Her period had been wonky since she was a teen, despite the regulation birth control pills offered most of the time.

  She cleared her throat and met the doctor’s dark eyes. He was looking at her expectantly.

  “Uh, no more than five weeks, I think.”

  “Okay, I’ll note that. It helps us know what we’re looking for.” He repeated that Radiology would be with her shortly, then he was gone.

  He’d been so placid and professional. Two traits she’d always prided herself on. Too bad they weren’t present right now.

  Her world was turned upside down.

  What the hell am I supposed to do now?

  Chapter Thirty

  Taylor took big, shuddering breaths and ordered herself to get it together. She glanced over her shoulder to the building her doctor officed in, then back down at the little referral card in her hand. The clinic’s name made it obvious as to what they did there.

  The date and time, two weeks away, glared at her.

  She needed to get back to work. She had some reports to file.

  Baker had made her take a week off, and this was her first day back. Her boss hadn’t sent her to Shrinkville this time. He’d told her it would be his call when she returned to work.

  Her new problem had taken her attention away from the humiliation of getting knocked on her ass, not to mention shot, that day in Phoenix.

  Taylor had chased Carter Bennett for months and months. Had craved justice for John, and, in the end, she hadn’t been able to deliver it herself. Not really. Holman had gotten him.

  Bennett would live—he’d been shot once. When he recovered, he would go to trial, so her fiancé would get justice.

  For that, she was grateful.

  Their whole team had congratulated them on finally closing John’s case.

  She hadn’t told Baker about her pregnancy, but she didn’t have plans to, either. She’d tell him she needed to take a few days’ medical leave when the time came, and Baker wouldn’t ask questions. Even if HIPAA allowed it, he wasn’t the type.

  Holman hadn’t brought up what he’d heard. She trusted him to keep it to himself, and he would.

  Her phone dinged and she cringed. She knew who it was before she even looked at the screen. Taylor didn’t have time for Shannon.

  Couldn’t face him. She hadn’t talked to him, or answered his texts, in almost two weeks.

  Are you home? Are you okay?

  The same message, over and over again. He’d left a few voicemails, too. Naturally, Shannon wanted to know what was going on. Things had been okay with them before Phoenix. More than okay.

  She couldn’t face that, any more than she wanted to face what was going on…inside her.

  Taylor crushed her eyes shut and clicked the button on the side of her cell to make the screen go dark. Then she pocketed it.

  Her…medical condition wasn’t any of Shannon’s business, right?

  It was her body. Her choice.

  His baby.

  Guilt jumped up and took a chunk out of her. The abortion appointment card burned the palm of her hand, so she shoved it in her pocket too. Touching it felt wrong.

  She stumbled to the car and wrenched the door open. She wouldn’t cry anymore.

  Family meant everything to Shannon. The day they’d taken his niece shopping felt like ages ago. Memories of his smile, his laugh, how his whole face had lit up when the kid had talked to him, laughed with him, and hugged him marched across her mind, making her guilt a million times worse.

  He’d be a good father. In all the ways that counted, he already was a father.

  She owed him the news of the pregnancy, and her…plans. No amount of No, I can’t have this baby was going to fix that. Taylor needed to tell him.

  But why?

  Nothing was going to change her mind. She couldn’t have this…his…child. It didn’t figure into her plans, any more than her relationship with him did.

  Tears clouded her vision and she wanted to punch something. Or scream.

  She clutched the steering wheel until her fingers shot needles of agony into her knuckles.

  What the fuck am I supposed to do?

  Her headfuck wasn’t Shannon’s problem. He was different from her. This wouldn’t petrify him. She could hear his voice in her head, see his beautiful eyes. He’d promise her that they’d deal with it. Too bad they would likely have different ideas of how to do that.

  A sob threatened to break through her attempts to staunch her tears. Taylor’s chest burned and no amount of forced air was fixing it.

  Her cell phone blared from her pocket and she wanted to ignore it. She couldn’t talk to him on the phone, especially when she couldn’t stop bawling.

  Surprise washed over her when she glanced at the screen and saw the Chicago area code. Taylor cleared her throat and swiped her thumb to answer the call. “Hello?” She cringed when her voice cracked.

  There was a pause, and she almost repeated her greeting, but then he spoke.

  “Taylor, are you well?”

  “Yes, sir. How can I help you?” she asked her father.

  “I haven’t spoken with you in some time, so I thought I would check in. How are things?”

  She inhaled through her nostrils and reached for the familiar, stiff formality that had always ruled every interaction with her father. “Things are fine. Thank you for asking.” She didn’t tell him she’d gotten shot and her arm still hurt like a bitch.

  “That’s good to hear.” His gruff voice washed over her, and she pictured him at his desk on base, where he ran the only Navy boot camp in the US, in Chicago. The place she’d grown up.

  She’d been raised by this unfeeling man, who’d chastise her even today, if he knew she’d been crying in her car after scheduling an appointment to end her unplanned pregnancy.

  Her mom had taken off when she was two, or so Taylor had been told. She didn’t remember the woman, but pictures told Taylor they looked very much alike.

  Maybe that was wh
y her father had always kept her at a distance.

  She glanced at the clock in her car. It was only half past nine, and he should be at work. Why was he calling her in the middle of his morning on a workday? “Is everything all right, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  Okay, well that didn’t encourage conversation or questions, but that was just her father. “Are you working?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “I had…something to take care of this morning, but I’m headed in soon.” As soon as I can get my shit together.

  Her father was quiet for a while—too quiet. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen you.”

  Taylor sucked back a gasp to hide her surprise. This conversation was so unlike the ones she was used to from the man who’d raised her. “Yeah… I mean, yes, sir, it has been. Is everything all right?” she repeated.

  “Yes. I was just thinking about you.”

  She blinked. Wanted to blurt, Really, why? But she didn’t. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror and winced at her puffy eyes. She’d have to do something about that before she got downtown. “Oh?”

  “If it’s possible, I’d like for you to come home for a visit.”

  Taylor’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father. Two years? Three?

  He’d never…requested her presence. Was he ill? She didn’t want to come out and ask. “Ah. I have vacation time. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good.”

  The very odd conversation with her father didn’t last much longer. Taylor stared at the dark screen of her phone when they disconnected.

  What the hell? circled her mind a few times.

  She couldn’t help but think of her childhood, and it hurt. This man had raised her with stoic distance. Her clothing had always had to be impeccable. Taylor had only been permitted to speak when spoken to, and had always had to maintain good posture in his presence.

  Everything had been like a rank to be achieved, including when she’d played softball in middle and high school—even college, since it’d been a source of a scholarship. Grades lower than a B were unacceptable, and the honor roll had been expected.

  He’d told her he’d been proud when she’d gone into the FBI, but Taylor hadn’t felt it. Her career choice was just one more thing her father could publicly declare to his colleagues. She was a centerpiece, not a person. If she’d failed, Taylor would’ve been hidden from view. She knew it in her gut.