We chat for a few more minutes before we hang up, and I don’t even bother finding something to watch. I roll over and fall asleep in minutes.
A loud pounding sound wakes me up with a start. I sit up, confused for a split second, and then remember I’m at Archer’s. I look at my phone; I’ve only been asleep for forty-five minutes.
Someone knocks on the front door again, hard, heavy, and desperate. I unlock my phone and call Archer, not expecting him to answer. He doesn’t, and I swing my legs over the bed, peering out into the hall. The door is locked. Archer made sure of it before he left.
A few seconds go by, and I think whoever was outside must have left. I let out a breath and prepare to go back to sleep. And then the person outside knocks again.
“Archer!” the man outside the door yells. “Are you in there?”
They know Archer?
“I know you’re in there, man!”
And they’re angry. What the hell?
The pounding on the door starts again, so loud I’m scared they’re going to bust through the door. Swallowing my pounding heart, I unlock my phone, thinking I might need to call the cops about this crazy guy.
“Look, Arch,” the guy says, voice muffled. “I’m sorry for all that shit I did before. Can we talk about it?”
I leave the bedroom, going through the small living room toward the front door. Should I open it? This guy seems to know Archer…Nope. No way I’m opening the door.
“Come on, Archer. Stop being such a fucking asshole.”
He kicks the door.
“And I’m calling the cops,” I whisper, hands starting to shake. I get my phone unlocked.
“Who the hell are you?” Sam’s voice is so welcome right now. “And what are you doing here?” I hurry to the door and unlock it to let Sam in before that guy does something to him. But as soon as I throw back the deadbolt, the door is shoved open, and the doorknob hits me right in the stomach. I fall back, tripping over the entryway rug. I catch myself with my bad wrist, and pain shoots up my arm.
“Shit, Quinn,” Sam says, dropping his gym bag and going in after the guy who was pounding on the door.
“Archer,” he calls. “Are you here?”
Sam helps me to my feet and rounds on the guy, shoving him against the wall. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Where’s Archer?”
“I’m not telling you shit.”
The guy turns, eyes red and bugged out. He’s on something, and it scares me even more. My hands go to my stomach on their own accord, protecting this little life inside of me. I know it takes a lot to hurt a baby at this time, but getting whacked by the door hurt.
Bad.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” the guy says, twitching slightly. “Duke University,” he mumbles, reading the words on my shirt. “Archer went there.”
So this guy really does know Archer, or at least knows Archer went to med school at Duke for some reason. Then his eyes go to my hands clutching my stomach, and he tips his head.
“Who the fuck are you?” Sam demands, arms held out at his sides. “I’m calling the cops.”
“No need, I’m leaving. Sorry. I thought Archer lived here.”
“Why?” I rush out. “Why are you looking for him?”
The guy turns at me, giving me a blank stare for a few seconds. “Haven’t seen him in a while.” He sidesteps away from Sam, who’s pulling out his phone. “Tell Archer I was here.” He looks right into my eyes, and there’s something familiar about his brown eyes.
“I don’t know your name.”
“Robert,” he says with a twitch. “But everyone calls me Bobby.”
Stay tuned for the conclusion of Quinn and Archer’s story.
Only time will tell if everything Quinn and Archer fought to have will be lost. As Archer finds himself going to lengths he never imagined possible to protects what his, going to lengths he never thought he’d go … Will this be the end game?
END GAME, releasing August 2nd
CLICK HERE to add End Game to your Goodreads TBR list
End Game
To my husband. Thanks for bringing me wine and letting me sleep in when I’m on a deadline. I love you.
Copyright
End Game
A Dawson Family Novel
BOOK TWO
Copyright 2018
Emily Goodwin
Editing by Ellie, Love N Books
Editing by Lindsay, Contagious Edits
Cover Photography by By Braayden Photography
Models: Jade and Jordan Fisher
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or places is purely coincidental.
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1
Quinn
I don’t know what hurts worse: my wrist or my stomach. The pain there is more concerning, and my wrist could be broken in two and my mind would still be on my baby. I know it takes a lot to hurt a baby this early in the pregnancy, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. I flatten my hand over my stomach, looking at the spot where the guy was just standing. I’m shocked, scared, and unable to figure out why he looked so familiar.
Sam takes off after the guy, and I stand there, rooted to the spot for a moment before I shake myself and get my phone from the floor. The screen has blacked out, and I hold it up, unlocking it with facial recognition, and call 911.
“911. What is the location of your emergency?” the dispatcher asks.
“I, uh, I don’t know,” I breathe, heart still racing. Am I imagining it, or is the pain in my stomach turning into dull cramps? “I’m at my boyfriend’s house,” I rush out, realizing that’s not helping my case. “And I don’t know his address. I’m visiting from out of town. Sorry.”
“It’s all right, we can attempt to track your location. What is your emergency?”
“Some guy was pounding on the door and then burst in,” I say and pull the phone away from my ear, putting it on speaker, and go to Maps so I can see where I am. “He hit me with the door and I think he’s on drugs.”
“Is he there with you now?”
“No. He left.” I drop a pin at my location and give the dispatcher the address.
“Keep your door locked. An officer is on his way.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up, still shaken, and completely ignore the dispatcher’s advice. Sam is out there, and I need to make sure he’s okay. Almost tripping over the entry rug again, I step over it and into the hall. Sam rounds the corner, jogging back toward me. He’s not black and blue or bleeding at least.
“Fucker ran out into the street. I lost him.”
Nodding, I step back inside and lock the door as soon as Sam is inside. “I called the cops. Someone will be here soon.”
“Good. Are you okay?” He plows a hand through his blonde hair.
I bring my hands to my stomach and look down. Getting hit with the knob hurt, and the base of the door also whacked my feet. I just didn’t realize it until now when I see a broken and bleeding toenail. My left wrist aches something terrible, and it’s a little hard to move.
“I’m not sure.”
“How far along are you?”
“Eight weeks.”
Sam lets out a sigh of relief. “Your uterus is still low in your pelvis. You should be okay. But your wrist…” He gently takes my arm and I wince. “It’s starting to swell.”
“It hurts. I have carpal tunnel in that one.”
“It wouldn’t make it suddenly swell like this. Can you move your fingers?”
I carefully bend all five fingers in toward my palm.
“What about move your wrist?”
“Oww,” I say when I try to bend my wrist up.
“It’s either a sprain of a fracture.”
“Great,” I mumble.
“Sit and try to relax. I’ll get you ice.”
Moving to the couch, I bring my right hand to the spot where the doorknob hit. It’s right below my belly button, and even though I know the baby is nestled deep inside my uterus, it’s hard to imagine it not being right there, feeling the shock wave of getting hit so hard I fell over.
“Are you okay in there?” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. This baby wasn’t planned. Archer and I weren’t even dating at the time of conception. Knowing I’m having a baby has turned my life upside down. But not having this baby would catapult my life into darkness.
Sam comes back into the living room carrying an ice pack.
“Archer got called in for surgery,” I say as he sits on the couch next to me.
“I know. He called on his way to make sure I’d look out for you. I’m doing a bang-up job.”
“It’s not your fault. Do you have any idea who that was?”
“Not at all.” Sam puts pillows under my arm, elevating my wrist and then carefully arranging the ice pack. “If the swelling gets worse, you should go in for an X-ray. Sometimes scaphoid fractures can be confused for sprains.”
My right hand is still on my stomach. “I can’t get an X-ray.”
“You’ll be well protected, and it’s just your wrist. Not your abdomen.”
I’m still being exposed to unnecessary radiation, which makes me feel guilty even though I didn’t do anything wrong. I fell. More than just fell, actually. I got knocked over.
“The guy knew Archer.”
“Maybe he was an old patient or something?” Sam gets up and goes to the window, looking down at the street that runs along the building.
“Are there cameras on the traffic lights?” I ask, moving the ice pack a bit. It’s getting cold already.
“I’m not sure.”
“If there are, I can hack in and see if I can find anything.”
Sam turns, eyebrow raised. “Hack in? You can do that?”
“I can. But I won’t.” I sigh. “I just need something to do to calm my nerves.”
“And hacking into the city’s traffic cams will calm your nerves?”
“Most definitely,” I say and then laugh. Sam laughs too, shaking his head. “Archer said you are good with computers.”
“It’s my thing.”
Sam goes to the door and looks through the peephole before moving back to the couch. “Have you really hacked into things?”
“Nothing that could get me arrested. Well, I did once, but I was helping the police catch a guy who’d racked up thousands on stolen credit cards. My brother is a cop in a small town,” I explain. “Their tech department isn’t the best.”
“That’s pretty damn cool.” He turns away from the door and comes back to the couch. He’s on edge, and not being able to catch and beat up this Bobby guy is bothering him.
“Should I try calling Archer?”
Sam checks the time. “He’s still in the OR. I’ll call the hospital and have him notified as soon as he’s out.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
A minute later, the cops arrive, and we give our statements. As much as I try to root for the law, the two officers who showed up don’t seem too concerned. They don’t seem to really care at all, actually. The guy just opened the door hard. He didn’t break and enter. He didn’t actually touch me. They say they’ll keep an eye out, and leave.
Locking the door after them, I debate on calling Weston and asking for advice on the subject. The guy creeped me out because of the way he looked at me, and the way he saw me in this shirt and knew it had something to do with Archer. I guess that’s not technically illegal, but I still feel like something more should be done.
Walking back to the couch, I bend over to pick my phone up from the coffee table. A sharp, stabbing pain hits me right in the stomach, and I freeze, waiting for it to go away.
But it doesn’t, and the sharp pain turns into a deep cramp.
2
Archer
“You’re needed in the ER.”
I give the medical assistant a quizzical look. “The ER? Are you sure?”
She’s sitting behind a desk in the PACU and just got off the phone. Her eyes dart to it and she nods. “That’s what they said. I asked twice since it’s not your area, but you’re being requested by Dr. Harris.”
Sam is in the ER asking for me? He’s off today and he’s never in the emergency room. Why would he—oh shit.
Quinn.
My phone battery was low, so I plugged it in and left it with my clothes when I changed into surgical scrubs. I rush through the recovery area to get it and see I have missed texts from both Quinn and Sam. The most recent one is from Sam, and I have to read it twice because my brain refuses to believe what I’m seeing.
Someone tried to break in and Quinn got hurt. We’re at the ER. I’ll have you paged.
I scroll up, reading as I run down the hall, stopping only to get into an elevator. None of his other texts give me information, and neither do Quinn’s. I get into the elevator and call Quinn, but I don’t have service in here.
My heart starts to race. Sweat breaks out along my back. Someone tried to break in? Quinn must have been fucking terrified. I curl my fingers into a fist, rage surging through me. Quinn got hurt. Bad enough to come to the ER. If anything happened to the baby…nope. I can’t think like that.
The baby is fine. Quinn is fine.
They have to be.
They’re my life. My family. I knew I wanted the baby from the moment I saw those bold, black words on the pregnancy test, but the thought of having it taken away from me makes my heart ache, making me realize just how bad I want this. The timing might be all wrong, and we might be doing things a bit out of order, but I’m ready.
I want Quinn to have my baby and for us to be together, living happily ever after for the rest of our lives. I want to marry her when the time is right and add another baby or two, hell, maybe even three, to our family. We’ll be loud and crazy, and things will be hectic and chaotic, but it’ll be perfect.
The elevator stops one floor down and an elderly couple takes their sweet ass time getting in with their walkers. I do my best not to glower at them and repeatedly push the button taking me to the main floor.
My heart beats faster with each passing second. Sometimes you don’t realize how much something means to you until it’s taken away. Nothing’s been taken—not really—but the thoughts of what if are bad enough.
I move to the front of the elevator and ask what floor the old folks are going to. Thankfully, it’s the same one, and we start the descent down. It only takes thirty seconds, but it feels like an eternity. I run down the hall, and when people see doctors running, they usually get out of the way, assuming I’m responding to an emergency.
I push through the swinging ER doors and look around for a nurse or attendant to tell me which room Quinn is in. They’ll be able to tell me faster than I could look it up myself. Then I see Sam standing near the nurses’ station, talking with a pretty redhead. He doesn’t look overly concerned, which has to be a good sign.
“Where’s Quinn?” I ask as soon as he sees me. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, I’ll take you back.”
“If she’s fine, why is she here?”
We start walking through the hall. “I was able to get an ultrasound faster in the ER.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “If she’s okay, why does she need an ultrasound?”
“To give her peace of mind,” he says and keeps walking.
“That’s not giving me peace of mind. What happened?”
He slows when we get to the room Quinn is in and lowers his voice. “Some guy was banging on the door asking for you. Quinn
unlocked it to let him in, and the guy shoved the door open. The knob got her right in the stomach, but she’s so early in the pregnancy you know she’s most likely fine. She’s bruised and scared, so I made a call and got her in to get an ultrasound, and Dr. Taylor is coming down from delivery when she gets a moment.”
“Thanks, man.” I let out a breath.
“Of course. It’s the least I could do. Quinn’s pretty freaked out. And she hurt her wrist. It’s swelling up, and I told her it might be fractured, but she refused an X-ray.”
I blink, taking all that in. “Someone was asking for me?”
“Yeah. He looked fucked up on something.”
My phone is still in my hand, and I look down to unlock it. I go to my pictures only to remember I don’t have a single photo of Bobby. Logging onto Facebook instead, I madly scroll through my mom’s profile until I find a picture of him.
“Is that the guy?”
Sam narrows his eyes, inspecting the photo. Bobby isn’t tweaked out in it, and the filter my mom used makes him look almost healthy.
“Yeah. Why do you—oh fuck. Is that your brother?”
“It is.” I bring my hand to the back of my neck. Bobby was at the apartment. Looking for me. I haven’t even seen him in years, and I didn’t know he had my address. “Why the fuck is he—it doesn’t matter. She’s in here?”
Sam nods and I go in without knocking or seeing if another physician is in there. I need to get to Quinn. As soon as her eyes meet mine, I know she needs me too.
“Archer.” She pushes up off the bed, reaching for me. She’s wearing pajama shorts and my Duke University shirt. Her hair is messy, and her eyes are watery.
“I’m so sorry, babe.” I sit on the bed next to her and take her in my arms. She’s shaking.
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