Bellamy

 

The baby was healthy. Of this we were absolutely sure.

Liam stood over me at the hospital like a WWE wrestler (the kind that was super grouchy) and pretty much scared everyone that came in the room to look at me.

At one point, one of the doctors suggested we have the officer outside my room come inside.

Not for our protection.

No.

For the protection of the staff.

Needless to say, I had an ultrasound (yes, Liam took all the pictures and then demanded more), a panel of blood drawn, an IV, and I was still currently hooked up to a monitor so they could keep a close watch on the baby overnight.

Yep, I got to spend the night.

I guess being the wife of an Olympic medalist with crazy eyes had its perks.

Um. Not.

Regardless, I was happy that my little boy was getting all the care and attention he deserved. I would spend a thousand nights in this hospital if it would make sure he was safe.

Knowing he was okay made everything else easier to bear. Like the twelve stitches in my hand. The four stitches in my head. The bandage covering the cut on my stomach, which was the most minor injury I had but the most traumatizing.

And then there was my hair.

“I look like someone took a weed whacker to my head!” I wailed when Liam finally helped me into the bathroom and I glanced in the mirror.

“Your face is still real pretty.” Liam consoled me.

How rude!

“I can’t even do anything with it until these stitches come out!” I said, reaching up to tenderly finger near them. When Liam was beating the crap out of the criminal, I was so desperate to get free, I got a pair of scissors out of the drawer and cut off the length trapped inside the disposal.

Needless to say, some of it was still very long, and some of it was… well, not.

Liam pulled my hand away, gently scolding me. “Don’t touch that.”

“It hurts.” I pouted.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, leaning in to kiss my temple.

“I have to pee,” I declared.

He gestured toward the toilet.

I was horrified. “Get out.”

“No.”

“I can’t pee in front of you!”

He rolled his eyes and turned his back.

“Liam,” I whined. He seriously wasn’t going to get out? This was absurd!

He reached over and turned on the faucet, allowing the water to run. Like that made this totally acceptable. This was stupid, but I was genuinely exhausted. I had no energy to argue with him. So I peed, glaring at his back the entire time and sneaking glances at the mirror to make sure he wasn’t watching me through it.

When I was done, I washed my hands and reached for him. He was there, lifting me and carrying me and the large IV pole attached to me back into the bedroom.

One of the nurses was waiting patiently and smiled when she saw us. “I knew your bark was worse than your bite,” she said, and I glared at him, just daring him to say something I would want to kick him for.

Wisely, he didn’t.

When I was back in bed, she went about strapping the monitor around me again and making sure everything was registering correctly.

“I’ll be back in a while to check on you,” she said.

“Thank you,” Liam told her.

When she was gone, I held out my hand to Liam, and he sat on the edge of the bed, caressing me with his eyes. “You scared the shit out of me tonight, Bells.”

“It was terrible,” I said, feeling a rush of panic fill me.

“Shh, shh.” He soothed and scooted farther up on the bed with me. I wanted him closer, but I knew he wouldn’t because of the monitor.

“Thank God you showed up when you did.”

“I seriously wanted to kill him,” Liam said darkly.

“I thought you were going to.” I admitted.

“I might have if the cops hadn’t showed up when they did, and he started squealing Crone’s name like a pig.”

“Do you think that matters?” I puzzled. At this point, I didn’t even know.

“I sure as hell hope so.”

As if on cue, Agent Frost walked into the room, followed by a few of his agents, the Caribou chief of police, and one of his uniformed officers.

I sank into the bed a little farther.

“Can’t this wait?” Liam asked, standing to move between the bed and the men. “She’s been through enough.”

“It really can’t,” Frost replied.

“It’s fine,” I said, rallying. “I won’t let him get away with trying to hurt Shaw.”

“Who’s Shaw?” Frost said, and everyone’s eyes sharpened as though they missed some giant piece of the puzzle.

“Shaw is my son,” Liam said, gesturing to my belly.

“Mine, too.” I corrected softly.

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Yes, sweetheart, yours, too.”

“I just came from your house,” Frost said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “That was quite a scene.”

“Try living through it,” I muttered.

“I need you to recount everything that happened,” Frost said, and everyone had their notebooks poised and ready.

I recounted. Twice.

Both times, Liam paced the floor. After my turn, Liam went. His turn was much faster because he hadn’t been there as long.

“The man who assaulted you,” Frost said when all the questioning was done, “is in ICU. He was airlifted to a hospital in Denver because of the, ah, limb loss.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking of the horrible grinding blades. Subconsciously, I touched my hair—or what was left of it. Liam brushed a hand gently over my face, and I opened to see him watching me with a frown.

“Is he going to make it?” I asked.

“Too early to tell,” Frost answered.

The chief of police cleared his throat and spoke up. “I did manage to question him when he came to as the paramedics were with him.”

“What did he say?” Liam asked.

“He corroborated what you said about Crone hiring him. He seemed more than happy to spill all of Crone’s dirty secrets.”

“Blood loss will do that to you,” Liam quipped, ice nipping at his words.

Frost glanced at Liam. “He alleges that you were going to kill him.”

“If I was going to kill him, he would be dead,” Liam deadpanned. “I was just doing what I had to do to save my wife and child.”

“No one blames you for that,” the chief said instantly.

Liam inclined his head. “I appreciate that.”

I steered the conversation back to where it needed to be. “Crone specifically ordered that man to break into our house and kill me?” I asked.

“He said he is willing to testify to it.”

I made a noise. “If he survives.”

“Which is why we are getting sworn testimony in writing and recording right away,” Frost said. “And of course we will have guards on him twenty-four-seven.”

“Can Crone go back to prison for this?” I asked, hopeful.

“It’s a possibility.”

Liam made a rude noise. “That means no.”

“No. It means we will do everything we can to put him away again.”

“So he can buy his way out again.”

“I’m choosing to ignore your disparaging remarks about the ability of the FBI because I know you’ve been through quite an ordeal tonight,” Frost told Liam.

Liam opened his mouth to say something utterly stupid, so I made a sound of distress. He flew to my side and was leaning over me in record time.

“Get a nurse!” he bellowed before even asking if I was okay. “A nurse, goddammit!” he yelled when no one moved.

I felt kind of guilty for making him stress this way, but it was the only way to get him to shut up. Besides, I wasn’t lying. I was just being a little dramatic.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked, his tone much gentler toward me. “Is it the baby?”

“The baby is fine,” I said quickly. One thing that was not okay was him thinking our child was somehow in harm’s way. “See.” I pointed to the monitor, which showed a healthy, strong heartbeat.

“Okay, then tell me.” He cajoled, leaning over me a little more.

“My head hurts,” I replied. That was the total truth. I would not recommend getting stitches there. “So does my hand.” I held up the hand with bandages covering the stitched areas.

“Is everything okay in here?” the nurse asked, rushing into the room.

“She’s in pain,” Liam told her. “Fix it.”

“I can get you a mild pain pill—”

“No pills!” we both said at the same time.

“How about some ice?” she suggested.

I nodded, grateful. “That sounds good.”

The nurse nodded and then turned toward the men crowding the room. “She needs her rest, gentlemen. Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

They all turned sheepish and mumbled various replies. The nurse bustled out to get some ice, and Liam brushed some wild, hacked hair out of my face.

“Time to go,” he said, gesturing for everyone to get out.

“We’re sorry to have kept you for so long, Mrs. Mattison,” the chief of police said. “If you need anything at all, just call.”

“Thank you,” I said, offering him a grateful smile.

“I’ll be in touch,” Agent Frost declared, and it sounded ominous. I looked forward to the day when the FBI wouldn’t “be in touch.”

Liam escorted everyone out into the hall, and I listened to the low timbre of his voice. It was soothing, and I yawned.

The nurse came back in, clucking her tongue and carrying two cold packs. “Poor thing,” she said, checking the monitor before facing me.

“Thank you,” I said when she placed one of the packs around my hand with the stitches, then the other near the wound on my head. I winced when the pack touched me, and she nodded in understanding.

“Head wounds are tender. And you have some swelling yet. I’m not sure what happened to you, but from the looks of your hair and scalp, I’d say you’re lucky all you needed was some stitches and this ice pack.”

“Very lucky.” I agreed. It was one of the reasons I hadn’t totally fallen apart tonight. What happened was horrible, and I knew once it fully set in, I would be dealing with the effects for quite some time.

But right now, all I could feel was grateful that I was okay, as was my husband and son.

The nurse passed Liam on the way out and pulled the door around as she went, closing out the bustle in the hallway and leaving us blissfully alone.

“Lay with me.”

He stopped beside the bed and frowned. “I don’t think—”

“Please.” I felt the fresh prick of tears behind my eyes and blinked them back.

“Don’t cry.” He soothed and kicked off his boots. The shirt he was wearing had blood on it, and I found myself fixated on it, wondering if it was my blood or the blood of the man who tried to kill me.

Liam followed my gaze and swore. He ripped the shirt up over his head and tossed it on the chair he’d dragged close. “I didn’t think about it,” he explained.

“I know,” I said softly. “I didn’t either, until just now.”

He climbed on the bed, gingerly moving up to my side and settling down as if he were holding a scalding, overfilled bowl of soup and he was terrified of spilling.

I turned my face toward him and smiled. He adjusted the ice on my head and kissed my nose. Since he couldn’t wrap his arm around my waist, he settled for laying a hand over my heart and resting one of his ankles over mine.

“Thank you,” I murmured, settling a little bit closer to him. My eyes drifted closed, and I laid the hand without stitches over his where it rested on me.

“If I could take your pain away, I would,” he whispered.

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. “You are.”