Shattered: (McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series - Book 4)

by April Wilson

  “I’m not sure. It’s not for a while.”

  “Hold on, I’ll check.” He does a quick Internet search on his phone. “It looks like three to four months for first time mothers.”

  There’s a brisk knock on the door, and then the door opens and in walks Dr. Shaw. “Hello, Beth,” she says, shaking my hand. “It’s good to see you.” She smiles at Shane. “You must be Dad.”

  Shane pockets his phone and stands. “I am.” He shakes her proffered hand. “Shane McIntyre. Pleased to meet you.”

  Dr. Shaw washes her hands at the sink and puts on gloves. After a quick physical examination, she uses a tape measure to measure my belly. Then she listens to my abdomen with her stethoscope.

  “Do you know when you had your last period?” she asks me as she makes some notations on my chart.

  “Not really.” I smile apologetically. “When I started taking the pill, my periods were always very light, and they’ve never completely stopped. The past couple have been lighter than usual, more like spotting, I’d say.”

  She nods. “That happens sometimes on the pill. It’s nothing to be concerned about. You’re not showing, and you really haven’t gained much weight since your last visit, so I’m guessing you’re not very far along. Perhaps eight to ten weeks is my guess. I suggest we do an ultrasound and see what we can determine from that.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, looking over at Shane, who gives me a reassuring nod.

  Dr. Shaw pulls a chair and an ultrasound cart closer to the exam table. Then she squirts some gel onto the ultrasound wand and onto my belly, then presses the wand against my body. Shane comes to stand beside the examination table and takes hold of my good hand, watching the monitor with me. I can’t make heads or tails out of what we’re seeing on the monitor... it’s just a field of black and white static.

  “There’s your bladder,” Dr. Shaw says, rolling the wand over a dark patch. “This larger shape here is your uterus.” She zeros in on a dark round oval. “And here’s the gestational sac, right where it should be. And right here is your baby.” She moves the wand, pivoting and rocking it. “Here’s the head, right here.” She points at a tiny little blip on the monitor. “And this is an arm, and here’s a hand. This is a foot.”

  As she moves the wand around some more, zooming in and out, we can just barely make out the shape of the baby. The little blip moves, rotating and flexing its limbs.

  “He’s moving,” I say, filled with awe.

  “He certainly is,” Dr. Shaw says. “Or she.”

  Dr. Shaw points at the monitor. “Do you see that there? That’s your baby’s heart beating. Hold on, and you can hear it.” She presses a button, and suddenly we can hear the rapid little staccato of heartbeats.

  Shane squeezes my hand as we listen.

  “Oh, my God,” I breathe, gazing up at Shane as reality hits home. “We’re having a baby.”

  He smiles at me, then leans down to give me a quick, tender kiss. “Yes, we are.”

  Dr. Shaw takes some measurements of the tiny fetus. “It’s a little early to tell, but I’m going to estimate you’re about nine weeks along, maybe ten.”

  When I think about how close we almost came to losing our baby, my eyes fill with tears. If Sam hadn’t pushed me out of the way, there’s no telling what might have happened.

  Dr. Shaw smiles as she puts away the wand. “Don’t worry, Beth. Your baby’s fine. Everything looks perfectly normal.”

  Shane clears his throat as he addresses Dr. Shaw. “What about sex? While she’s pregnant. Is that okay?”

  Dr. Shaw bites back a grin. “Intercourse is perfectly fine, Mr. McIntyre. There’s nothing to worry about. Don’t let her hang from any chandeliers, of course. But otherwise, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  Chapter 32

  After my OB appointment, Shane and I meet Miguel Rodriquez for dinner at The Tavern on Rush, a popular steak and seafood restaurant in our neighborhood. Shane had called earlier in the day to make reservations, so we’re seated quickly, just as Miguel arrives. Our dinner is partly a chance for me to catch up with Miguel, whom I haven’t seen in a while, and partly a celebration of our first prenatal ultrasound. We’re not ready to make my pregnancy general knowledge yet, but as he’ll be my bodyguard for at least the next few months, Miguel needs to know.

  “Congratulations, guys,” Miguel says, raising his tall glass of brew to toast our announcement.

  Shane raises his glass to Miguel’s, and I lift my glass of ice water. No more alcohol for me, at least not for the foreseeable future.

  It’s so good to see Miguel again. I haven’t seen much of him since I met Shane back in the summer. Miguel hasn’t changed a bit – he’s still as handsome as ever, with his midnight black hair, dark eyes, and cafe au lait skin. But more importantly, he’s a very kind, very empathetic person.

  Miguel has a special place in my heart – he helped me so much in the beginning, especially when I found out that Tyler had hired McIntyre Security to provide covert protection when Howard Kline was released from prison.

  When I first met Shane, I thought it was just a random meeting – just two people connecting by chance and getting to know each other. I was devastated when I found out that wasn’t the case – that our meeting wasn’t just a random accident, but rather part of an orchestrated business arrangement between my brother and McIntyre Security, Inc. I felt betrayed, not just by Shane but by my brother as well.

  Miguel was right there with me the whole time... never judging me for my hysterical melt-down in Shane’s office. Instead, he stood by me the entire time, truly a port of safety in an emotional and anxiety-filled storm. He was also the first person on the scene when I was attacked in my office at the medical school library by an obsessive student, Andrew Morton. Miguel was the one who called 911, and perhaps he even saved my life.

  “Pregnancy certainly agrees with you, Beth,” Miguel says to me, touching his glass to mine. “You look beautiful. And very happy.” He tips his head toward Shane, his boss and long-time friend. “I take it this guy agrees with you too.”

  I grin. “Yes, he does.”

  Shane fills Miguel in on what’s happened in the past week... everything from Luciana running into me at the nightclub, the harassing text messages, Luciana showing up at Clancy’s, the incriminating photos of Luciana and Shane, and most recently the hit-and-run accident that wasn’t really an accident at all.

  “Jesus,” Miguel says, shaking his head. “The woman’s nuts. Do you really think she was behind it?”

  Shane nods. “I know she was. I know how ruthless she can be. I don’t have any proof yet that she orchestrated this attempt, but I’ll get it. And if she is guilty, she’s going to pay dearly.”

  Miguel turns his gaze in my direction. “I’m really sorry to hear about Sam, but thank God you weren’t hit, Beth.”

  I swallow hard, thinking about that little beating heart inside my womb. I lay my hand on my lower belly, rubbing gently.

  Our meals arrive, steaks and baked potatoes for the guys, and a salad with grilled chicken and pesto for me. As we eat, Miguel catches me up on his most recent clients. He’d just recently wrapped up a case, and the timing is perfect for him to take over for Sam for a while.

  “So, when do you need me?” Miguel says.

  Before I can answer, Shane interjects. “Not for a few days yet. I want to keep Beth at home for a while, let her rest up.”

  I sigh. “Shane, I’m fine. I need to get back to work. We have so many events going on at the store this week – I need to be there, or Erin will kill me.”

  Shane frowns. “A few days of rest won’t hurt. Erin can manage.”

  “I can rest in my office at work just as easily as I can rest at home. I’ll take it slowly, I promise. Erin can do most of the leg work.”

  He sighs heavily. “All right.” He wags his index finger at me. “But no more lunch outings until this mess with Luciana is wrapped up. If you have to leave the store for any reason, y
ou travel by vehicle, with Miguel, okay?” He looks at me, then hard at Miguel. “Is that understood?”

  Miguel gives Shane a mocking salute. “Yes, boss.” Then he grins at me. “Gee, I thought he was overprotective before. Now with you being pregnant, it’s only going to get worse, isn’t it?”

  I laugh. Miguel knows Shane so well. “I’m afraid you’re right.” And I can’t even begin to imagine how he’ll be when our baby is born. I bump my shoulder into Shane’s, and he puts his arm across my shoulders. “But I wouldn’t change him for the world.”

  “You’d better not,” Shane says, pretending to be affronted. “I’m just trying to keep my family safe.”

  * * *

  At the end of our meal, we arrange for Miguel to pick me up at the penthouse at eight the next morning to take me to Clancy’s. Then Shane and I head to the hospital to visit with Sam and Cooper.

  Shane knocks lightly on Sam’s door, and when there’s no answer, he cracks open the door and peers inside. Then he pushes the door open enough for us to slip into the room.

  The room is dark, lit only by one dim nightlight plugged into an outlet in the wall. Sam’s asleep in his bed, and Cooper’s asleep in a chair at the side of the bed.

  While the restraints are gone, Sam’s still hooked up to a myriad of machines, and it makes my heart hurt to see him like this.

  But what makes my heart hurt even more is the fact that, even in his sleep, Cooper is holding onto Sam’s hand with a death grip. It’s obvious there’s something serious between these two.

  Cooper stirs, and when he realizes he has company, he drops Sam’s hand like it’s a hot potato and sits up, regarding us warily. Even in the dim lighting, it’s easy to see he looks haggard, his eyes bloodshot.

  Shane lays his hand on Cooper’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “How’s he doing?”

  Cooper scrubs his hand across his face. His normally trim beard looks scruffy, and there are dark shadows beneath his eyes. He can’t be sleeping well here.

  “He’s better,” Cooper says. “He’s had a couple of seizures, but the doctor assures me that’s normal for a head injury. He had an MRI earlier today, and it showed the swelling is decreasing. His doctor thinks he won’t need any more surgery or any holes drilled into his skull to relieve the pressure.”

  Cooper stretches, grimacing from the discomfort of stiff, sore muscles. “His mom and sister arrived late last night from Ohio. They’re staying in a nearby hotel, and they’ve been here a couple of times today to see him.”

  “Are they... friendly to you?” I ask. I know Sam is close to his mom and sister, but I have no idea if they know he’s gay. I would assume they do. But still, I have no idea how they’d receive Cooper if they realized the two men are lovers. There’s also the age difference to consider.

  Cooper nods, looking uncomfortable. “They’ve been very cordial.” Then he looks up at us with pained eyes. “I don’t know if they know. I told them I’m his co-worker, and since he doesn’t have any family here in town, I volunteered to stay with him.”

  All eyes turn toward the bed when we hear a pained, semi-conscious groan. Sam reaches blindly for something, and Cooper takes hold of his hand again. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m here.”

  “Danny?” Sam’s voice is weak and hoarse.

  Cooper shoots to his feet and puts himself in Sam’s line of sight. “I’m right here, baby. What do you need?”

  “My head hurts.”

  When Sam starts crying, Shane pulls me into his arms and holds me close.

  Cooper brushes Sam’s tears from his cheek. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” Cooper pushes a call button on the bed frame. “I called the nurse.”

  “Is she okay?” Sam says as he gazes up at Cooper, his eyes unfocused.

  I don’t think Sam even realizes Shane and I are in the room.

  “Yes,” Cooper says, gently stroking Sam’s forehead. “She’s okay. Beth is fine. Just relax and try to rest. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  “My head hurts.”

  “I know it does, and I’m so sorry. But it’ll get better soon, I promise.”

  “Danny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Beth’s okay, right?”

  “Yeah, sweetie. She’s fine. I promise, she’s fine. Just rest, okay?”

  “Okay.” Sam tries to change position in the bed, and he groans. “Why does my head hurt so much?”

  “Because you hit your head. It’ll get better, I promise.”

  There’s a disembodied woman’s voice coming over the intercom speaker “Nurses’ station. What can I do for you?”

  “Can we up Sam’s pain medication?” Cooper says.

  “I’ll be right there,” the woman says.

  I’m about to lose it, and I think Shane can tell. Wordlessly, he pulls me out of the room just as the nurse walks in, shutting the door behind her. My throat is so tight I can barely breathe. Shane holds me in his arms out in the hallway and lets me cry, rubbing my back. I can feel his lips in my hair as he murmurs comforting words.

  “It’s all my fault,” I sob. “He’s hurt because of me.”

  “Beth, you can’t think like that. He wouldn’t want you to. He was doing his job – he was keeping you safe. If he had it to do all over again, I promise you, he wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “She needs to pay,” I say, as anger tears through me. “If Luciana was behind this, she needs to pay.”

  “She will, sweetheart. Don’t worry, she will.”

  I wait out in the hallway, with my arms wrapped around my torso, practically shaking, while Shane pops back into Sam’s room to say our good-byes to Cooper.

  Chapter 33

  We head back to the penthouse, and I grab my robe and head straight for the shower. I just need to be alone right now, to grieve in private. My heart is breaking into pieces over Sam. Not just for his injuries and his physical pain, but for his emotional pain too. I keep thinking about what he told me after I walked in on him and Cooper kissing in Jamie’s kitchen. After Cooper left.

  He owns me.

  He doesn’t love me, not the way I love him.

  I can’t bring myself to leave him. God, help me.

  I step naked into the warm spray of water and try to drown my sorrows. “Oh, Sam, if only you could have seen Cooper.” If Sam could have seen what we saw, he’d know that Cooper loves him. He’d know that he owns Cooper just as much as Cooper owns him.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and put my face into the spray of water to wash away my tears. A moment later, I hear the glass shower door open and close, and then Shane’s there with me, his naked body a warm comfort pressed against my back. His strong arms come around my waist, oh so gently, as if he’s afraid to hold me too tightly because of the baby. I pull his arms tighter around me, drawing on his strength.

  “It’s all right,” he murmurs against my temple. “He’s going to be all right. It’s not your fault, I swear to you.”

  He turns me to face him and lets me cry, holding me with my face pressed tightly to his chest. I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my ear, and it comforts me.

  “Stupid pregnancy hormones,” I mutter. “I think I’ve cried more in the past few days than I have in my entire life.”

  He chuckles as he rubs my back. “That’s okay. You go ahead and cry.”

  I must have zoned out at that point, numb, because Shane washes my hair and my body, then rinses me off. The next thing I know, we’re out of the shower. I’ve got my thick robe on, and he’s toweling my hair dry.

  “Thank you,” I say, reaching for my comb on the vanity. I have to comb it, or it’ll dry like that.

  “I’ll do it.” He sits me down on the stool in front of the vanity, then takes my comb from me and starts slowly untangling the mess.

  I just sit there, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, and my eyes are red and puffy. “I look terrible.”

  “No, you look beautiful.”
<
br />   I laugh. “You’re such a liar.”

  “No, it’s true. You always look beautiful.”

  After he combs my hair, he blows it dry, slowly and gently, lulling me into a peaceful place. Then he swings me up into his arms and carries me to bed.

  “Bedtime for you, young lady,” he says. “If you’re going to insist on going back to work tomorrow, you need a good night’s sleep. You and the baby.”

  “Miguel was right. You’re going to be even worse now that there’s a baby coming.”

  “Damn right,” he says, tucking me into our bed. “Now, you go to sleep. I’ll be in my office making some calls for work.”

  * * *

  I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying here for over an hour, and my mind is racing. I keep envisioning Sam in his hospital bed, confused and in pain. I keep remembering the haunted look in Cooper’s bloodshot eyes. And no matter what Shane says, I can’t help thinking it’s my fault Sam’s hurt. That car was aiming for me. Sam saved me, but at what cost to himself?

  I get out of bed and grab the first nightgown I find in my dresser drawer – a short, sheer pink nightie – and head down the hallway. The penthouse is dark, all of the lights off except for the nightlight we keep on in the kitchen in case someone gets up in the middle of the night.

  Shane’s office door is pulled mostly shut, and I can see a narrow strip of light coming from beneath it. As I get closer, I begin to make out Shane’s voice. He’s talking to someone, presumably on the phone.

  “I’m not letting him off the hook, Troy,” Shane says, sounding exasperated. “Of course I want to know who hired Conroy, but I think we can find that out without giving him immunity from prosecution. A shorter sentence, perhaps. I’d consider that. But he’s not getting off free of any charges. Conroy’s going to do prison time – trust me.”

  There’s a pause in the conversation, and I can hear Shane’s bare feet pacing the wood floors. “I know Luciana’s behind this. I think I can get her to incriminate herself. If I can get a confession on tape, then we don’t need to offer Conroy any sort of deal.”