Heart of a Savage

by Lashanta Charles

  “Ya gave me no choice, lass.”

  “I gave you freedom! I gave you the ability to make all the choices in the world and this is what you choose. This? You bring another woman into my home to try and take claim of my child. You think this will make me bow down to you? You think this will bend me to your will, you arrogant, cocky prick? Is this supposed to be a threat? Because if it is, you’ve failed miserably.”

  The only sound to be heard in the room is Kaelen’s sniffles and the crackle of the logs on the fire. Connor must finally realize the stupidity in his plan because he wisely says nothing. I turn back to the woman. “What is your name?” I know I have to wrap this up because speaking through clenched teeth is only making the coming headache worse.

  “Malia,” she answers, eyes flicking to Connor’s direction.

  “Malia. You will leave my house and you will do it now. Feel free to take Connor with you, maybe you can have another child with him.” I turn and walk away from her, ignoring the protests from everyone in the room. Her words are the ones to stop me though.

  “Funny thing, that,” she says and I can hear her heels click against the hardwood floors as she comes closer to me. “I’m here strictly for Connor and I have no problem giving him his first child, but the bitch in me isn’t going to let you have what doesn’t belong to you or him. Well, at least not biologically.”

  While Connor and his family explode at her revelation, it takes me quite a bit to muddle through the pain in my head and make sense of her words. I’m pretty sure she’s telling me Connor isn’t Kaelen’s father like I thought. I’m obviously not his biological mother. How in the hell did we end up here then? I look to Connor for answers, but he only glares at Malia. She obviously wasn’t supposed to let that secret out. “I’ll say this again for those who missed it this first time. You will leave my house. All of you.”

  “If I go, my son goes,” she declares.

  I turn to face her and give her my sweetest smile as I clutch him closer to my chest. “I’d like to see you try and take him from me.” With that parting remark, I leave the room. My intent is to lock myself in my room, but I make it no further than the top of the stairs before I feel myself being yanked back. Without thought, I toss Kaelen as gently as I can and hope that he makes it to the landing where there’s a decorative rug to cushion his fall. As for me, I know my fall won’t be cushioned. I know there will be no one to worry about me landing safely. No one who’ll care that windmilling my arms doesn’t help me gain balance. No one to care that the moment I fall, the back of my head slams into the mahogany stairs with enough force that I nearly black out. There’s no one to care that the momentum carries my legs over my head, causing me to continue to tumble down the stairs; my back and shoulders slamming against the hardwood at jagged angles, my ribs cracking against the steps closest to the bottom. No one to care that I land face first, my nose smashed against the floor, and every part of my body burning in flames of pain. No one to care because even though my vision is blurry and dark at the edges, I’m able to turn my head and stare into the eyes of the one person who should care. I can see Connor standing on the stairs, eyes narrowed and making no move to reach Kaelen, who’s wailing at the top of his lungs. No move to reach for me.

  Footsteps pound toward me and I hear Rory’s voice as he calls out to me. I guess there’s at least one person who cares. Fearing an internal injury—because that’s the only thing that could explain why this hurts so bad, I don’t move. I hear Teagan’s cry of dismay before she yells for Connor to help me. He neither moves nor pulls his gaze from mine. I feel hands poking and prodding at me and hear Killian telling Rory not to move me.

  “Call an ambulance!” Rory says.

  I have no idea who he’s speaking to, but I can hear the click clack of heels against the floor as they move toward me. Slow. Calculated. It’s sounds just as cold and cruel as she looks. Forcing myself to speak, I push Rory’s name out. A second later, his face fills my vision. His palm rests gently against my cheek, thumb tracing small circles against it.

  “I’m here, piuthar, sister. I’m here,” he murmurs.

  My eyes close of their own accord, but I force them to open. “Brathair, brother, get Kael. Keep my son with your dad. Watch them,” I tell him.

  His brow draws down slightly as though he doesn’t know what I mean, but then realization dawns and he looks up.

  “Athair, she wants you to take Kaelen,” he says.

  A beat of silence follows the request. Connor would challenge Rory and most likely succeed in taking Kaelen from him. Killian is a completely different story. Connor would never go against him.

  “No one will take him from my sight,” their father, Killian, vows and I know he means it.

  Asshole and suspected murderer he may be, but he is the only one who could stop Connor from taking Kaelen. It breaks my heart and I pray that I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life, but I have no other choice. Rory wouldn’t be able to stop Connor alone, but he’ll stay with them and keep Kael safe if his father decides to do anything unthinkable. The clacking stops and I watch Killian move up the stairs, shouldering past Connor—who still hasn’t moved—and scooping a screaming Kaelen into his arms.

  “Shhhh, garbhach - grandson. Tis alright. Seanair-grandpa has you and no one will take you away from me or your mathair - mother.”

  I can’t see him because I’ve lost the battle against keeping my eyes open, but his words, claiming Kaelen as his grandson and me as Kaelen’s mother, even after Malia’s revelations, reassure me. As though it has been waiting for just that, my body finally succumbs to sweet darkness and nothing hurts anymore.

  I COME AWAKE slowly. The sound of beeping matches my heartbeat. My eyelids flutter open and I see a woman in pink scrubs staring down at me.

  “There she is,” she murmurs softly.

  She pushes a button on a machine next to the bed I lie in then scribbles something on the clipboard she holds. Her eyes find mine again and the smile she gives is somehow comforting.

  “Would you like to sit up? Maybe we could get you to try something to eat if you’re feeling up to it?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but a brittle squeak is the only thing that comes out. She quickly grabs the pitcher of water from the nearby tray table and pours me a cup. Holding the straw steady, she murmurs something else as I gulp down a few swallows. After drinking, I glance around the room. The TV mounted to the wall is on mute and one of the two chairs is pulled out completely with a blanket tossed haphazardly across it.

  “Kaelen? Where is my son?”

  She smiles again and lowers her hand, palm down, to mid-thigh. “Curly hair, super talkative, about ye high, and cute as a button?”

  I nod my head.

  “He’s with his grandpa. That man hasn’t let him get more than arms length away from him since you came in. You have a wonderful family. That Connor is to die for, quite a charmer, that one.”

  “You can have him,” I tell her as I force myself to move my extremities. I remember falling down the stairs. No, I remember being pulled back and then falling down the stairs. I remember Connor being the only one on the stairs when it happened and I also remember him not moving to help me.

  “Um, should I call someone?

  Finished with my inspection, I bring my eyes back to hers. She no longer looks warm and comforting. Her brows are bumped together in a scowl and the corners of her mouth are turned down.

  “Yes, please. Call my doctor. I’d like to go home.” Getting from the bed is pure agony, but I push it down and force myself to move. The nurse rushes forward and places a restraining hand against my shoulder.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to advise against that. You’ve been in a coma for three days and we need to make sure you’re okay.”

  My mouth goes slack as I look up at her. Three days? How is that possible? “You’re free to make sure of whatever you want, but you can’t keep me here. I suggest you make it quick, please.”

&n
bsp; She stares open-mouthed for a few seconds but doesn’t move to exit the room. I look around for my purse, but it’s not here. I need my cell phone. I don’t remember any numbers by heart and I don’t have many people I can call, but I know I need to get out of here. Connor threw me down the stairs. It didn’t matter that I had Kaelen in my arms. He maliciously tried to hurt me. I shouldn’t be surprised because it’s not the first time he’s hurt me. However, a punch or a slap is different. I know the outcome of those. I have a general idea of the damage they could cause because I’ve experienced them on multiple occasions. I stop that line of thinking because even in my own head, it sounds as though I’ve become accepting of him doing it, and no matter how I look at it, a punch or slap could kill, too. Tossing me down a flight of stairs though? Was he really trying to kill me? The nurse still hasn’t moved to call for anyone, so I grab the circle of stickiness connected to my chest and yank it off. It immediately begins to screech in alarm. I grab another wire and yank it away as well. That one beeps incessantly. What the hell are all these machines for? Just when I’ve managed to sit up, the nurse pushes me back down and glares at me.

  “He said you’d try something stupid like this.”

  Her hands restrain me and I flinch from the unexpected touch. All I can do is stare in shock as she pulls her phone out and makes a call. When I hear her speaking, I know that it’s Connor she’s speaking to.

  “Baby, you need to hurry up and get here. She’s awake and trying to leave.”

  The door opens and she quickly hangs up and steps away from me.

  “Mrs. O’Malley? What’s happening in here?”

  I look up to see a young man in a white lab coat and two more nurses. “I have to go. I’m not safe here, she just called him,” I exclaim as I yank away another wire. Goodness, how many are there and why does yanking them off hurt so bad?

  “You just woke up for a coma, ma’am. We need to make sure you’re actually okay, so could you please get back in the bed? After we’ve checked you over we can see how we need to move forward with your care.”

  “You’re not listening. She called him. He could be here any minute,” I mumble to myself as I reach for the IV in my left arm, determined to ignore the flare of pain from moving the arm encased in a cast. My fingers, plump with swelling, fumble and, distantly, I wonder if the cast is because I broke my wrist during the fall. A hand rests on top of the cast, not actually restraining, but the intent is clear. Ripping out this IV would be a very bad idea. Vision blurring from unshed tears I look into her doll-like face and she smiles.

  “May I?” she asks.

  I glance around the room at the anxious faces before nodding my head. She thanks me and begins pulling things from the pockets on her scrubs.

  “This may seem like a silly question, but I have to ask. You said you’re not safe. I’m assuming that transfers to home as well and this fall wasn’t an accident?” the doctor asks.

  I look towards the first nurse, now standing near the door and glaring at me. “It wasn’t an accident. Connor did it.”

  “Dr. Branson, she’s obviously confused and lying. Why would he do something like that?” she protests.

  “Get her out of here.” Dr. Branson orders and the third nurse pushes her into the hallway while calling for security.

  I wince as the IV is finally removed. Yeah, that would’ve hurt.

  “Will you allow me to take your vitals?” the nice nurse asks.

  “I really need to go. I can’t be here when he gets here,” I say as I shake my head. For a second, everything goes black. When I regain my senses, she’s connected a blood pressure cuff and Dr. Branson is shining a light in my eyes.

  “Welcome back,” he says with a smile. “That’s one of the reasons I’m advising you not to try and leave. You suffered a serious head injury, some swelling and a little bit of bleeding. While most of that has, and will continue to remedy itself, I’d like to at least do a CT scan to make sure. With situations involving head injuries, observation is key. You could be fine one minute and seconds away from death the next. This hospital is the best place for you to be. I can assure you, you’re safest here with us. What can I do to reassure you?”

  “I need my phone. I’ll stay and do whatever tests you want, but only if Nico is here.”

  The nurse draws in a sharp breath and we both look at her.

  “The Savage Prince, Nico? Oh wow! You’re her! You’re Bailey Ross, right? The Savage Princess? Your dad was Verion Ross, the boxer, right?”

  “My dad? No. No, you have that wrong. My dad was never a boxer.”

  “But I read all about it online. They did a special on you on the sports network and they . . . Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry! This is so unprofessional of me!”

  “The fighter?” Dr. Branson asks, adding to that unprofessionalism.

  I can definitely understand his skepticism. If that’s who I am them why am I all banged up and in this hospital? Before any of us can say anything more I hear his voice. Connor is here and he’s angry. “Please. I’m begging you. I need to go. They have my son. I’ll come back, I promise.”

  Something shifts in both their demeanors and before I know it, the doctor has disappeared to distract Connor and the nurse has me in a wheelchair, along with pain medicine and discharge paperwork, smuggling me out of the hospital.

  “What did you mean about a story being done on me?”

  She looks surprised, but fiddles with her phone before passing it to me. While she hails a taxi for me, I read my history. History that has been kept from me. My dad gave up boxing to keep my mom happy. She didn’t want him to end up like my grandfather. She wanted him to be around to raise his children. I know they wanted a big family since both of them were from single child homes. Neither of them could have suspected that I’d be an only child. The multiple cysts on her ovaries prevented her from ever conceiving after me.

  A taxi arrives and after thanking the nurse, I go to Rory and have him follow me to a nondescript motel, where he leaves me and Kaelen with promises to check on us in a couple of days.

  JANAE’S NAME AND number pops up on the screen of my phone for the third time in less than an hour. She refuses to believe that I have no desire to see or speak to her. Doing something I should have done months ago, I block her number. I wish I didn’t have to do it, but it makes things so much easier. If I cut her off, I don’t have to see her. And if I don’t have to see her, I won’t have the visual reminder of the child that we lost. Voices filter in through the partially closed office door and though I hear my name, I ignore them. I dial Bailey’s number and hope that she answers this time. Voicemail picks up immediately. It’s been nearly three weeks of silence on her end since I last saw or heard from her. The address we have is for one of her accounting firms – where she hasn’t showed up at all - and the only contact info that works is her cell phone. The dormant stalker in me is fully awake and together we hired a private investigator two days ago. He called ten minutes ago to tell me he found her and that he’d meet me here. It’s been a very long ten minutes and just when I grab my phone to call him again, there’s a knock before he sticks his head into the office. I stand and motion for him to come in. He’s not a big guy, but then again, nearly everyone I meet is smaller than me so that’s not saying much. He has the whole skinny jeans, skater boy look going on, and when I initially met him it almost made me not hire him. He did ten years in the Army as a part of their Criminal Investigation Division so I figured he was good to go. His name is James, but he insisted I call him Cap. Jax is hot on his heels. I consider kicking him out, but he’s taken on a serious role of overprotective big brother for Bailey.

  “Where is she?” Jax demands as the door slams behind him.

  I guess I’ll just sit back and see how my meeting goes. Thankfully, Cap knows who paid him, so he looks to me and doesn’t speak until I nod my head.

  “It’s not good,” he says with a shake of his head.

  His shoulders droop and he
stares into space for a few seconds. Jax clears his throat impatiently. Cap shakes his head again as though physically shaking himself from his thoughts and gently places a thick file on my desk.

  “Everything you need to know is in there. If you want my advice, and I take it you do since you hired me, I’d say you need to get her as far away from her boyfriend, as soon as possible. The things he’s done to her. I’ve seen some strange things in my line of work, and even though this isn’t the worse, it’s bad. The level of abuse he—”

  Another confused shake of his head, but nothing follows.

  “He’s ‘just’ what? They’re married with a kid, we can’t exactly just uproot her.” Jax grumbles “Plus, we have no idea where she really lives.”

  Cap lets out a mirthless chuckle before flipping the file open and pulling out a document. He turns it so I can see it and after I read it, I can only stare at him. I can’t process what I’m reading. It makes no sense. Jax snatches the paper – which I now know is a birth certificate—and turns it so he can read it.