Joshua landed on his hands, knees, and face. He grunted on impact and slumped into the concrete for a split second, then crawled on his elbows—legs dragging behind him.
“Behind you, you idiot,” Billie shouted.
Virgil cranked his body around, but Joshua was already in Virgil’s blind spot, arm raised, Virgil’s pearl handle switchblade clutched in his hand. He plunged it deep into Virgil’s back, where the kidneys nestled only partially protected by the ribcage.
“Joshua, no!” Julius screamed and stepped forward only to have Billie shoot the ground an inch from Julius’ left foot.
“Back up.” She ordered and returned the gun to Calista’s bump.
Bleeding profusely from two wounds to both kidneys, Virgil didn’t have long before he bled out. That didn’t stop him from whipping around and bearing his gun down on Joshua.
Gunshots echoed in the sub-basement. But it wasn’t Joshua swiss cheesed on the concrete. The first bullet was Billie’s, delivered to Virgil’s chest. The remaining bullets peppered Virgil’s back. Those came from Sunny, Edwards, and Scotts.
“Get back here, Joshua.” Billie ordered. Joshua lay on the concrete panting as if he’d run a marathon. The relief on his face at Virgil’s death replaced with despair. He thought it was over. How wrong he was.
“I said get back here!” Billie yelled. Moving her gun from Virgil’s slumped over body to point to the spot next to her. Then brought her weapon back up to lock on Joshua.
A tear slid down his cheek and a sob broke from his throat as his chest heaved. Though his legs had yet to get the message from his brain, he crawled on his elbows toward them.
Calista had enough. Gently, she grabbed Billie’s arm and forced it down to the girl’s side. Billie sputtered, and tried to break free. Though the knife pressed into her throat, Calista refused to let go.
“Go, Josh,” she croaked. The poor boy slumped onto the ground into a growing puddle of blood from Virgil’s nearby corpse. He looked up, tears pooling in his eyes, bottom lip trembling, and shook his head.
“It’s okay.” She mouthed, the warmth spreading from her neck to her chest in a sticky trail.
Joshua crumpled, his sobs as broken as his spirit. Calista cried with him as Edwards darted from behind a parked car. Sprinting across the distance, he lifted Joshua into his arms and carried him to safety.
“You, bitch! You’re gonna pay!”
Yeah. And the bill was due right now, because Billie’s leverage was gone. She didn’t have Virgil, Joshua was safe, and Calista had a vise grip on the hand holding the gun. All she had was a knife to Calista’s throat.
A reverse grip, her palm to the edge of the blade took care of that. The blade cut deep into her flesh, but it was off her throat, and that’s all that mattered as she twisted her body and—
She felt the breeze, felt the impact with the sharp jerk and pull on her body. From the corner of her eye, she witnessed a hole appear in the center of Billie’s forehead. Calista collapsed with the new corpse. She tried to protect Jewel but slipped on the blood-soaked concrete. She landed hard, shifting at the last second to take the brunt on her hands, knees, and side. But it still hurt her precious bump.
She cried out and Julius was there, wrapping her in his arms, holding her close to his heart.
“I got you. I got you, baby.” His raspy voice washed over her. All she could do was sigh in relief and sag into his body.
Others were there, but she focused on him, his eyes, his face, winter clinging to his clothes. His hand circled her throat, pressing gently. “Good shot,” she croaked, knowing it was him that put that bitch down.
“Shh. Don’t talk. Save your strength,” he whispered, then shouted, “Get an ambulance!”
“Joshua?” She forced out.
“I’m here.”
She shifted her eyes and there he was, leaning over her, bawling his eyes out, supported by Edwards. “Okay?” She mouthed. He nodded, his head one of those bobble heads on a dashboard. She stroked his cheek and left a bloody trail. Jewel kicked in her belly and for a moment, she had hope that everything was gonna be alright.
Until the world faded to black.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“C an’t wait.” The realization slammed into Julius. An ambulance would take an eternity to get to the sub-basement when he could guarantee one was topside by the downed helicopter. He scooped her into his arms and ran up the ramp, through the garage and out onto the street. Sunny ran past him long before he exited the building. By the time Julius cleared the structure, Sunny had a stretcher and the paramedics waiting. And the police.
Dear God, she’d lost so much blood. The front of her was painted red. The cut didn’t seem deep. It didn’t need to be to end her life. The paramedics raced to the ambulance. Julius stood back when they lifted the stretcher into the bay, then he climbed inside. He didn’t wait for an invitation. He joined them, kneeling beside her.
“What the heck happened to her?” one paramedic asked, his gloved hand pressed to the cut on her throat.
“Attempted kidnapping. She decided not to go with them,” he murmured and allowed himself to be shoved aside. Silently, he watched the blood seep between the paramedic’s fingers while his partner attached leads to her chest and finger.
“Pulse rapid. O2 level low. How far along is she?” the paramedic asked.
“Twenty-five weeks. Almost twenty-six.”
“Jesus,” he mumbled. “We gotta get her to the hospital or we’ll lose them.”
“I’m a doctor! Let me through!” someone shouted outside of the ambulance.
Sunny and Scotts parted to let the woman pass. Edwards was in the distance talking to the police. Julius placed the short, pudgy woman to be in her mid-fifties. A crown of salt and pepper hair competed with a liberal amount of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and frown lines framing her mouth.
Sunny lent a hand and helped her into the bay. Julius exited the ambulance. He had no choice since she had every intention of mowing him down, and he was more than alright with that.
“Dr. Kennon. Glad to see you,” the paramedic holding compression to Calista’s throat said.
“Vitals?” She ordered, all business. The other paramedic rattled off the numbers.
“Was she breathing at initial contact?”
“Yes.” One of the machines started beeping a warning. “Her O2 is tanking.”
“Trach kit and get us to the hospital.” She glanced at Julius. “We’re heading to Presbyterian. Meet us there.”
Julius nodded, but he had one thing to say even though it killed him. Without a doubt, it was the only choice he had because he couldn’t live without Calista. “Save her. If you have to choose one to save, save her.”
Dr. Kennon’s lips thinned and she nodded once. Then Calista and the doctor were gone from his sight. The ambulance doors closed. Seconds later, sirens blared, lights flashed, and the vehicle threaded its way through the firetrucks and personnel.
Julius spun, intent on getting back to his car and making it to the hospital. Two detectives blocked his way, along with four policemen for backup. “I’m Detective Geit. The three of you have to come with us and answer some questions about the two bodies in the sub-basement.”
Julius pulled out his phone and made one call. “It’s Julius Morgan for the mayor. I need to speak to him.” Julius waited and so did the police. Half were wide-eyed. The rest were pissed. Less than thirty seconds later, the mayor was on the phone.
“Mr. Morgan, how can I help this evening?” the mayor asked.
“I’m sure you’ve been informed about the downed helicopter in Manhattan. It involved my brother and pregnant fiancée, both were injured during an attempted kidnapping.” Guilt choked him. He hadn’t thought about Joshua since he picked Calista’s bloody body off the floor of the sub-basement. He covered the phone and looked at Edwards. “Where’s Joshua?”
“Already on his way to the hospital. He was alert when they left,” Edw
ards said.
Relieved, Julius returned to the mayor. “I’m going to the hospital to be with her. I willingly hand over my gun to the detective and give them permission to enter my penthouse to check on my staff.”
“The commissioner is with me—”
“Oh, you and the commissioner are together,” Julius said for the benefit of the police glaring at him. “Good, I’ll let you speak to Detective Geit while I get to the hospital.” He did precisely what he said and handed the gun in his waistband to one of the policemen and handed his phone to the detective. Then, he turned to his bodyguards. “Scotts and Edwards, stay and help the police. Sunny, come with me.” He walked away but stopped and threw over his shoulder. “Get my phone when he’s done.”
They weren’t lucky. Their car was boxed in by police cars. They ran down the block to the avenue. A shadow separated from the entrance of a clothing store and stepped into their path. Sunny stepped in front of Julius. It wasn’t necessary.
“Whiskey.”
Face obscured from the hoody shielding his features, the man nodded once. “I failed. I was out of place. Didn’t think they would try the helicopter again. Though I did have cameras on the helipad. I also failed with Billie. Intel was too slow on getting back to me on her, but you shouldn’t’ve let a stranger into you home, fool. That shits on you.” A police car approached. “Hope your woman and kid are okay.” Whiskey turned and darted into the clothing store that appeared closed and apparently was, except for him.
An unmarked police car rolled up. It was Detective Geit. “Get in. I’ll take you there.” No hesitation, Julius threw himself into the rear. Sunny’s wide body was next to him without an inch of space between them in the small backseat.
“They’re gonna be okay. They’re gonna be okay.”
Julius looked to his right at his bodyguard and friend whose eyes were closed as he mumbled beneath his breath. He echoed Sunny’s sentiment. They had to be okay. No, more than okay. They had to be fine. Both of them.
No one warns you love will be like this, the constant worry, the constant fear for their welfare, the void in the pit of your stomach when shit goes wrong and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to fix it except pray to a god you’ve never prayed to before for mercy you don’t deserve. Mercy for the love of your life and the innocent life you’ve created out of that love.
Please, God. Don’t take them from me.
J
ulius didn’t ask for directions when he entered the emergency department. Security tried to stop him. Sunny grabbed the security guard and had him against the wall until Geit and his partner stepped between.
Julius kept moving through the congested space, peering into each glass enclosure for Calista. He found her in the room closest to the nurses’ station, a room filled with personnel and Dr. Kennon in the center of it all. Though he wanted to barge in and take charge, he stayed back and watched, helpless to do anything else.
Fifty minutes. That’s how long it took the staff to thin out to only Dr. Kennon. Fifty minutes of Julius counting the beats of his heart and multiplying them by three. Sunny stayed by his side, giving his statement to the detectives and checking on Joshua who was on the other side of the emergency department receiving treatment.
Julius entered the room on eggshells. Monitors beeped but had no meaning to him other than she was alive. And that was enough, but would it be enough for her upon waking. He suspected not. So where did that leave them and wherever that place be, would they survive the loss?
“We got to her in time. My guess is she stopped breathing for less than a minute.” Dr. Kennon pointed to a monitor in the corner of the room. “That’s her heartbeat and that’s the baby’s heartbeat.” She pointed to the silent monitor next to it. “Both are stable and strong. I’ve ordered an ultrasound to check on the baby.”
“My daughter.”
Dr. Kennon smiled. “Your daughter. We’ll wait to order a CT scan or MRI of the brain and neck when she wakes and can judge her cognitive skills. Dr. Meyers, your OB doctor, has been consulted and is on his way in. He’s agreed with my treatment and will take over when he arrives. She should wake soon, you can have a seat.”
Soon was four hours of waiting. The police never left, even after taking his statement. Sunny wheeled Joshua over. The boy was a wreck, crying and apologizing for what he couldn’t control. Julius told him it wasn’t his fault, but Joshua wouldn’t stop. Finally, Sunny returned him to his room while Julius waited. It didn’t matter. He’d wait forever for her.
Andrew was dead. His body was found in the gym, stabbed on the treadmill. Everyone else in the penthouse ended up in the same emergency department. They’d live.
He slipped his hand under the blanket covering Calista to rub Jewel. She gave him a little kick. He smiled. She was a fighter. He was proud of her before she was even born.
God, he was tired, drained. His head dropped onto the stiff bed. Just a few minutes to close his eyes and rest. Just a few minutes to not think. Just a few…
Something moved through his hair, scraped his scalp, and moved down to his neck. The touch was familiar, soothing. He leaned into the sensation, seeking more. His eyes peeled open, his gaze on one person.
Hazel eyes watched him. Breath caught, he didn’t move. Maybe this was a dream. Or a nightmare. Her hand slid down to his shoulder, then to his chest and slipped free. He caught it, held her hand in his, never more terrified the moment wasn’t real.
She squeezed his hand while her other landed on her bump.
“She’s fine. They did an ultrasound and she’s good.” He rose from his seat to hover closer. “You’re fine too. I swear. You have a trach and your throat is bandaged, but you’re fine, and so is Jewel.” Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down the sides of her face. “Don’t. Are you in pain? Let me call the doctor.”
She fisted his shirt, keeping him in place, then mouthed, “Love you.” A fraction of a smile on her face. He panicked when her eyes closed, but the steady beep of the machines calmed him. She was alive. They were alive.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Two Days Later
H arden hated hospitals. The stench, the wretched masses, the dying, lying on their backs waiting for the end, fighting battles they couldn’t win. Weak. Pathetic.
He’d spent enough time in places like this and free clinics being poked, prodded, examined, first as a patient, then as a guinea pig for extra cash until his father decided he needed another heir. “Leave it alone.” He grumbled as he moved through the sanitized halls.
Lots of pregnant people here. A dumb thought since he was on the maternity ward. Babies and pregnant women were supposed to be here. A mob boss whose hands were soaked in blood…not so much. While he didn’t have an affinity for pregnant women, he did have a liking for babies. The thanks for that phenomenon or the blame lay squarely on the adorable eight-month-old shoulders of Allie Playne.
“Sir, may I help you?” a cute nurse asked.
She was a pretty little thing. Big blue eyes. Big round breasts. Tiny waist. Straight blond hair around a sweet oval face. She was so his type…until that wasn’t his type anymore. “No, thank you, darling, but…” He spotted Scotts on guard duty in the hallway. “I know where I’m going.”
Scotts saw them coming and knocked on the closed hospital door. It was opened before Harden arrived. And out stepped Julius. Harden caught a peek of Calista propped up on the bed, Jentry’s mother, Laverne, and the two youngest sisters were at her bedside. All were laughing at something.
“How’s my niece?”
Julius grimaced and Harden braced for bad news, though how bad could it be when the ladies were laughing a second ago? “The trach came out this morning, but Calista started having contractions. They’re controlling it with medication. So far, it’s working.”
Harden didn’t know much about pregnancy, but he did know it was too soon for the baby to be born. And all he could offer in the way of help was worthless platitudes. He squeezed Juliu
s’ shoulder. “They’re gonna be fine. No other outcome is acceptable.”
“Damn straight.” Julius closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. “Where’s Jentry. I thought she’d come with you?”
“She wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t want to risk Calista becoming ill.” The lie flowed off Harden’s tongue, which was better than telling Julius he’d fucked up. Jentry hadn’t left Catalyst. For hours she had been trapped in the building, not home safe and sound. He hadn’t even known she was there until the firemen brought her out on a stretcher. God had never answered his prayers, not once, until that moment. She was alive, but… “She’ll be by in a few days.” Then he changed the subject. “You ready from some news?” Harden said in his ear.
Julius’ narrowed gaze summed him up with a single hard stare. “Cryptic isn’t your style. Neither is subtlety. You suck at both. You know something. Spill.” He demanded.
Harden grimaced and frowned. “Can you keep a secret?”
“I’ve had about enough bullshit to last a lifetime. You ask that now after twenty years of friendship?”
A self-indulgent grin was his answer as he pulled out three burner phones, each with a different colored strip on the back. “I got a picture. Sent to my burner.” He shoved the blue and red phones back into his pocket. The green striped one he kept and typed in a password. A few more taps to the screen and a picture popped up. Harden angled the phone for him to see. It was a grainy picture of a man next to Nasir, the Crown Prince of Qari and their friend.
“He’s rarely photo’d, but my guess is that’s Alezander Karpovilov in Bahrain.”
Harden pointed to the man left of Nasir, knowing Julius would look past the oligarch to latch onto the man directly behind the Russian in a protective stance with a line of other bodyguards. A man they knew quite well. Emmet Streeter. Streets to those in his crosshairs. Friend to those he grew up with.
Plain and the Billionaire's Seduction (Plain Jane Series Book 3) Page 26