Chapter Twenty
♥
After almost two solid weeks of rain and gloomy skies, they woke to December and bright sunshine. It was cold and windy, but being able to lift her face to the glowing orb and soak in its warmth did wonders for her mood. “A quick trip to town,” she promised Gabe. “I’m going bat-shit crazy. I need a girls’ day out. Dark roast for me, hot cocoa for Rowan.”
“Me! Me! Take me!” Jonathon bounced with glee. “I need new shoes.”
It was true; he’d all but destroyed his oxfords, tromping around the estate.
Only Conor knew the truth―she was going into town for a pregnancy test to prove to him that she wasn’t pregnant, because he wouldn’t leave her alone about it―and she was tired of his constant interrogations and warnings to talk to Gabe.
She held Gabe’s hand as he walked her to the SUV. “I should go with you.”
“We leave for the states in a few days; spend the time with Mamó. I promise we’ll be back before you even know we’re gone.”
He shook his head unhappily and exhaled.
With an amused smile, Alexandra gestured toward the SUV. “Two Secret Service agents, an armored vehicle, and Jonathon between me and the dangerous sheep known to prowl the rural lane.”
Three miles down the road, Gabe was her only thought when they were ambushed, a rocket exploding beneath the armored SUV. The explosion lifted it and rolled it before it landed upside down, rolled again, and skidded on its roof until it stopped. She heard herself screaming, and it seemed like a dream.
Everything happened in slow motion. She hit her head against the window. The front glass cracked with the first drop, and the subsequent roll shattered it. They were immediately subjected to more gunfire.
She knew one agent suffered a direct hit when blood and brain debris splattered on the driver’s window.
The second agent popped open his door, and blood spray covered them all when he took an arterial hit.
The vehicle was upside down, and they were all suspended by their seat belts. She closed her eyes as she released her belt and dropped hard. “I’m sorry, Gabe; I should have listened.”
Jonathon did the same, drawing his weapon as he fell, and quickly pushed open the door and rolled out. He met her gaze. “Stay here; protect Rowan.”
The baby was screaming hysterically.
Alexandra leaned into the front seat and called for help over one of the agent’s wrist comms. “Agents down; agent needs assistance.”
She looked at her watch face, giving coordinates before grabbing the Glock 43 9mm from his holster. She hid the weapon beside her. It wasn’t laser sighted.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Why did I not replace my own gun after it was confiscated at the crime scene in Montana? She realized when she turned the safety off that she was seeing double. She opened her eyes wider, but it didn’t help.
She ducked, hearing shots fired at close range; she knew it was too soon for the cavalry. Jonathon slid in the gravel beside the door.
From the large stain of blood on the front of his white shirt, she knew it wasn’t good. “I’ll cover you as long as I can. Run to the woods, directly behind me. It’s less than a hundred feet. I’ve already taken down three of their men. I believe only one or two remain.”
Alexandra tucked the gun into her waistband and hurriedly unbuckled Rowan. “Stay alive, Jonathon. I mean it! Do not stop breathing, no matter what.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He winked.
“Fucking smart-ass.”
He nodded and commanded, “Run!”
Using the vehicle’s frame as a shield, he stood and started shooting.
She held Rowan close and ran to the tree line. She didn’t stop running, not even when she could have sheltered behind a wide trunk.
She ran and kept running. The gunfire seemed to be chasing her, but she wasn’t taking direct fire. Jonathon. It had to be Jonathon…
A fence blocked her path, and she knew she couldn’t clear the height, as restricted as she was carrying Rowan. She stopped and stared at it.
“End of the line, sweetheart. Just cooperate, and we’ll make sure you and that baby don’t get hurt any worse than you already are.”
She looked at Rowan, seeing for the first time she was covered in blood. She dropped to her knees, whispering, “Rowan.”
Bowing her head, she prayed, not for herself but for Jonathon and for Rowan.
“That’s it. Nice and easy. I’m going to help you stand, and we’re going to calmly walk northwest to a clearing. We honestly don’t want to cause you any harm, Dr. Van Zant, but it’s decision-making time. For the sake of your daughter, I’d like to encourage you to hear what our boss has to say. I know you will see the true way after you talk to him for a while.”
It’s decision-making time.
The gunman grabbed her left elbow and pulled, commanding, “Get up!”
Alexandra pretended to be injured, struggled to stand, and dropped back to her knees. She folded forward, crying out in pain, and lowered Rowan to the grass, covering the baby with her body so it wasn’t clear she was laying her down.
When the gunman jerked her elbow again, saying, “I said, stand up, damn it!” she came up, stumbled, turned, and promptly fell against his chest.
She met his eyes, saying, “I can do this. I can do this.”
“That’s right. One foot in front of the other; we’ll get you to the plane―”
He didn’t see the handgun in her right hand being aimed at his temple. The shot fired clean, and he dropped, eyes open.
Rowan shrieked, having started at the sound, and to Alexandra’s ears it was the best sound in the world. She fell to her knees and hugged her close. “Mamaí’s got you, sweetheart. Mamaí’s here.” She stood and kicked the gunman in his ribs. Dead.
“I’ll give your regards to your fucking boss as soon as I see him.” She didn’t waste any time, quickly collecting his weapons—pulled off his vertical-draw two-gun shoulder holster that carried two additional handguns, and put it on. He also had a belt with a row of knives around his back. She left it. She adjusted the fit of the harness, explaining to Rowan, “Must be a guy thing, carrying guns and knives.”
Alexandra took a deep breath, picked up her daughter, and started running back toward the vehicles as fast as she could. She paused at the edge of the tree line and squatted low, checking for movement among the dead bodies. “Fuck! Where is the cavalry?”
She exhaled, stood, waited, and after taking no gunfire, plowed forward as fast as she could. She knelt beside Jonathon and checked his pulse. He cracked his eyes open. “I’m still breathing.”
She started laughing as she patted down his pockets, finally finding his cell phone. She dialed the emergency number Major Davis had given her in Montana and hoped the fuck it worked in Ireland. The voice on the other end answered, “Identify.”
“Dr. Alexandra Van Zant, three to fly out.”
“Coordinates?” a woman asked without identifying herself.
Alexandra looked down at her wrist and read off the numbers.
“ETA fifteen minutes,” the voice confirmed, and then the line disconnected.
She dialed Gabe, and there was no answer.
She dialed Conor with no luck there either. She started to worry. There was only one reason they wouldn’t answer their phones. She said a quick prayer for their safety and tucked Rowan into the crook of Jonathon’s elbow. “I’ll be back.”
Alexandra crept low, checked for pulses at each downed body. Only one of the men was breathing. She opened his shirt, exposing a sucking chest wound. “Fuck!”
She rummaged, looking for anything she could use to cover the frothing hole in his chest. She found a small plastic bag in their SUV and returned to treat him.
He was already gone, his eyes wide open.
She made her way back to Jonathon and Rowan, discovering Jonathon had lapsed into unconsciousness. She checked but couldn’t find a strong pulse. She closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest to hear his heart. She heard a slow, weak beat. “Don’t die, don’t die. Nobody else is allowed to fucking die today. Are you listening, god? You fucking better be listening. I’m due a miracle.”
She prayed and stayed conscious until she heard the pulse of military helicopters. Jonathon squeezed her. “You’ll be safe now.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Gabe and Conor fought off the attack, two waves of six-man teams. Gabe fired the final head and heart shots at the twelfth man as two military helicopters flew over the property. “Xandra! Fuck!”
They both dug their cell phones out of their pockets. Conor looked at his screen. “I missed her call.”
“Me too.”
They sprinted to the second SUV and peeled out. Conor gripped the dash, dialing Alexandra with his free hand. “No answer.”
Gabe cut cross-country, taking out fence panels, driving fast as he could to the main road. He finally got to it, skidding on the asphalt as he corrected the steering wheel with a sharp turn. They arrived at the scene of the attack. Seeing the SUV upside down and with obvious damage, both men exclaimed, “Fuck.”
They looked toward the helicopters and saw a body on a stretcher being loaded. They both jumped out of the vehicle, calling her name, and were stopped by soldiers. Holding up their hands, they explained who they were. After providing photo IDs, they were allowed to enter the crime scene.
The soldier escorting them said, “Two agents were DOA.”
“Alexandra?” Gabe demanded. “Is she alive?”
“Unconscious and already loaded for transport.”
“The man, Jonathon, and a baby?” Conor asked.
“The man is injured, conscious, loading into the second bird now. It is unknown if the baby is injured. She is covered in blood but breathing well on her own and presented no obvious head wounds or major injury.”
“We’re going to need to hitch a ride.” Gabe hurried toward the helicopter carrying Alexandra and pointed Conor toward the other helicopter.
♥ ♥ ♥
Alexandra regained consciousness at the university hospital in Cork. She reached up to touch her head, finding it wrapped in gauze, and pulled the oxygen tube from her nose before trying to sit up. She saw Gabe sitting in a chair in one corner, and Conor in a chair in the other. Both stood and rushed to either side of the bed. Gabe put the nasal cannula back in her nose. “I see you.”
Lifting one finger, she said, “You’re a bit blurry.”
She started pulling on the IV line inserted in the bend of her arm.
“Leave it, Xandra; you’ve lost a fair amount of blood from the gash on your head. It has to be replaced, and you have a pretty significant concussion. You may be dizzy and blurry a few days. Try to rest.”
“Headache.”
“I can imagine.”
Conor lifted her hand and kissed it. She blinked twice. “Rowan? Jonathon?”
“Jonathon is in surgery. He’s going to be fine. He’s a pretty tough guy. Rowan is in a pediatric ward under observation,” Conor answered.
“No! If they find out where we are, she won’t be safe. They’ve decided they want to take me alive again, and they will use any leverage they can. They want my help to make the extinction event happen, and they seem fairly desperate.”
“We brought an army to the hospital. No one is getting in here.”
“You brought? Army?”
“Major Davis is not impressed, but you’re in Ireland now, and you will be well protected by our clan as long as you’re here.”
“Mamó? I tried to call―” She closed her eyes.
“Mamó’s okay, love. She said to tell you to hurry up and get home; she plans to teach you twenty-five while you are stuck in bed recuperating.”
“What?” She didn’t open her eyes. “I’m not stuck in bed. No, no. Fuck that shit. Imma gonna take a nap, and then I want to go back to the estate. Tell them. I refuse treatment. I’m leaving as soon as I wake up.”
“YOU’RE TELLING HER.” Conor returned to the chair in the corner. “I did not break my oath.”
“Perfect, make me the bad guy. I’ll tell her―maybe not immediately, though. She is not going to respond well to hearing she is on bed rest until further notice.” Gabe stayed by her bedside, holding her hand. He placed his other hand on her low abdomen. “She doesn’t even look pregnant.”
“You saw the ultrasound—there are definitely two babies hiding in there.”
Gabe closed his eyes and said a prayer for all three of them. He felt movement behind him; Conor rested his hand and chin on Gabe’s shoulder. “I wanted to tell you my suspicions, but she made me believe she would tell you the moment when she was certain. She’s going to need your protection now more than ever.”
“Our protection.” Gabe placed his hand over Conor’s. “We just figured out the emotional mechanics of a ménage à quatre. A pregnancy changes nothing as far as I’m concerned. Do you want out?”
“God, no!” Conor didn’t move. “My love hasn’t changed. If anything I’m feeling more protective, a primal urgency to stay by her side.”
“I agree.”
♥ ♥ ♥
When Alexandra woke again, she felt more clear-minded, but some of the details were fuzzy. Conor and Gabe were both asleep in uncomfortable-looking chairs. A nurse was taking her vitals. “Your personal physician phoned in. She’s arrived at the airport and plans to drive straight over. So it shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“I want to be released immediately. I didn’t give anyone permission to treat me. I don’t want to be here.”
The nurse smiled at her, and that only made her madder. “You’re going to be fine. Your headache and the confusion will clear up over the next few days. We gave you a full pint of blood, but the good news is there is no brain bleeding or swelling.”
Gabe came to the side of the bed and took her hand.
“She isn’t listening. I’m refusing treatment. I want to go home.”
Gabe met the nurse’s gaze. “Will you give us a moment alone?”
“Certainly.” The nurse hurried from the room.
Alexandra started to pull the lines from her arms, but Gabe stopped her. “Relax. Please. I know you’re scared, but you are going to be fine. This isn’t a psych ward, just a normal one. You banged your head pretty hard and lost quite a bit of blood. You’re safe, and I won’t leave for a minute. Conor is here too.”
“Jonathon?”
“He’s out of surgery and is critical but stable. He’s on another floor.”
Alexandra frowned. “Why are neither of you with him? I want to see him.”
Gabe explained gently, “He’s unconscious and ventilated. Mamó is with him and knows to call us if there is any change to his condition.”
He’s alive. Alexandra nodded. “You should be with him. I want to see his chart. He needs protection.”
Gabe stroked her cheek. “He has the best doctors, and I have two guards at his door. Now that you are awake, I will go check on him, but I need you to promise me you will stay relaxed and calm.”
Alexandra became distressed, demanding, “Why wouldn’t I be calm? Where’s Rowan? You said she was fine when I woke earlier.”
“Rowan is safe. I had a full mercenary detail of my selection accompany her and Karen back to AODH. Your facility is a fortress, and I want you to be assured she is safe. Don’t worry.”
“AODH? No! We just bonded! Make Karen bring her back.”
“No, you need time to heal.”
“Mercenaries? They have no loyalty. They could be the enemy.”
“I chose the men, and their loyalty is to me. Once Rowan is safely settled, they will spread out and protect your family until we return.”
Alexandra closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists. “No, no, no! I don’t like this! I don’t like not being in control.”
“Relax, sweetheart,” Conor whispered, coming to her side as well.
“I imagine Colonel Davis and the secretaries are livid.” Alexandra held her head.
“We reached an understanding.” Gabe informed her. “You are mine. I protect what is mine, and if they ever want to see you on US soil, working for them again, they’ll agree to a few of my additional safety measures.”
“You made threats to Homeland Security? Jesus Christ, Gabe! That was reckless. They’re a force to be reckoned—” Alexandra shook her head.
“You trust me, mo ghrá?”
She smiled a small smile and pulled the blanket up higher. “You know I do.”
“Good. Everything is fine; I promise. Besides, going a round with Colonel Davis was nothing compared to your ma.”
“Oh my God, Gabe, tell me you did not call my mother over a fucking concussion!”
“Gabe didn’t, mo chroí.” Conor bent nearer, catching her jaw and making her look at him when she guessed he had. “The attack hit local media, and within minutes you were again the source of breaking news around the world. I wanted your mum to know you were safe and well from one of us.”
“I’ve caused her enough worry for a dozen lifetimes.”
“She was thankful for the call and I promised updates,” Conor assured Alexandra.
She frowned. “How long was I unconscious?”
“Several days,” Gabe answered and kissed her forehead. “Try to sleep.”
She changed the subject. “The nurse said Dr. Claassen is coming?”
Gabe said, “She is.”
“Why?”
“To monitor you more closely,” Gabe explained, and Alexandra narrowed her gaze and shook her head, making her irritation evident. “No! I don’t need her here.”
“Go check on Jonathon. I’m here,” Conor told Gabe as he met her gaze and squeezed her hand. “I’ll stay with Xandra.”
Conor stroked her brow as Gabe left the room. “I’m glad to see your eyes open, mo chroí. It’s been a very long three days not knowing when you would wake up.”
“The men who ambushed us?”
“They’re all dead.”
Alexandra nodded. “Jonathon killed most of them.”
“You left a significant blood trail into the woods. A man was found dead.”
“He wanted to get me to a helicopter waiting in a field nearby. I couldn’t let that happen.” She covered her face, whispering, “I shot him. You didn’t tell me it would be easier to kill after the first time.”
Conor leaned nearer. “It was you or him. I’m glad it was him.”
“But if I’d gone with them, I might have discovered who the ringleader was.”
“I’m very glad you did not go with him. The helicopter was discovered, and the pilot and one other militant are in custody. Major Davis is hoping they will provide some much-needed intel.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Gabe and Conor were barred from the room for the better part of an hour when Dr. Claassen arrived. It seemed promising that there was no yelling, screaming, or storming from the room, but then a technician arrived, pushing a portable machine. Both men frowned as the woman and machine disappeared into Alexandra’s private room. Dr. Claassen opened the door. “She requests the two of you be present.”
Conor looked at Gabe and gestured for him to enter first. They went to the left side of the bed, and it was immediately clear Alexandra had been crying. Gabe took her hand.
“I believe the two of you were informed while she was unconscious of the complication?”
The technician folded back the sheet and blanket and lifted Alexandra’s gown to expose her abdomen. It became evident she was there to perform an ultrasound.
“By complication, I assume you mean pregnancy?” Conor demanded, the muscle tightening in his jaw.
The doctor met his gaze. “I wouldn’t get too attached to the idea just yet. There are many factors that can contribute to whether or not continuing the pregnancy is advisable.”
“You are aware abortion is illegal in Ireland?” Conor asked sternly.
Dr. Claassen gestured for the technician to begin. “A debate for another time, Mr. Larkin. Let’s just see what we’ve got going on inside there.”
Alexandra was staring at him wide-eyed and without a word told him she was begging for him to help her. He knew she was terrified of admitting she was pregnant and even more terrified of losing another baby, but neither fear explained the look of absolute terror and desperation written across her face.
The technician started, and Dr. Claassen asked, “Are you feeling any movement?”
Alexandra shrugged, looking down and avoiding seeing the monitor. Conor could tell she had a death grip on Gabe’s hand.
“Here we go; there’s the head.” The technician used the mouse pointer to outline the face. Forehead. Nose. Obvious heartbeat. “It’s thumping right along. Spine. It appears he is lying on his back.”
Alexandra gasped and paled.
“Oh!” The technician glanced over. “You didn’t want to know the sex?”
Alexandra frowned, whispering, “It’s fine.”
The technician continued, “I’ll just outline the vital organs and take some measurements.”
“Perhaps without the play-by-play,” Dr. Claassen commented.
Alexandra closed her eyes as measurements were noted silently.
“Could you please do the play-by-play?” Alexandra asked softly. “I’m fine now.”
“I’m just moving over here to baby B.”
She looked up at the monitor. “Baby B?”
“Twins. You didn’t know?”
She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the screen.
“Do you want to know the sex of baby B?”
“They’re fraternal, then?” Alexandra asked.
The technician nodded.
“It’s a girl,” Alexandra whispered.
“Yes, good eye. So, one boy, one girl.”
Dr. Claassen sounded angry when she said, “Sex determination is hardly reliable at a gestational age of twelve weeks.”
The technician frowned, barely glancing at the paperwork when she said, “No, ma’am. I’m afraid that was misreported. They are on the low end of the weight and measurement scale, but I’m marking fetal age as fourteen weeks, putting gestational age at sixteen weeks.”
“Her abdomen would be protruding more if she was that far along,” Dr. Claassen argued.
But the technician pointed to details on the screen. “The babies are both tucked in here against the back side of her uterus, and see here? That’s the muscular wall of her abdomen. It’s almost like a corset.” She looked at Alexandra. “Do you lift weights? Are you a runner?”
“Both, mostly run.”
“Will that be a problem?” Gabe asked. “Her muscles holding her in?”
“No, I only know because I’m a marathon runner. With my first baby, I didn’t noticeably show until I was almost seven months. With my second baby it was five months, and I competed until my sixth month.” She looked at Alexandra and gave her an encouraging smile. “If you’ve been running all along, you should be fine to continue as long as you can do so comfortably.”
Conor asked the question he knew Alexandra wanted to hear the answer to but was too terrified to ask. “Is it too soon to determine fetal abnormalities?”
Dr. Claassen answered, “I think you’re putting the cart before the horse. There is much Alexandra and I need to discuss. As her physician, I am more concerned about her health than a few insignificant cells—”
“A FEW CELLS!” Conor roared and pushed the doctor to the corner, where they immediately flew into a heated debate.
Alexandra asked the technician again, “Fetal abnormalities?”
The technician looked at the doctor but answered, “There is nothing evident on the ultrasound. However, if you wish to pursue the answer to the question with certainty, I would advise repeating the ultrasound at twenty-one weeks and follow up with an amnio—”
“No, there is added risk of miscarriage with amniocentesis,” Alexandra interrupted, hugging Gabe’s arm to her face.
The doctor returned to her bedside. “I knew allowing your men in was a mistake. There is nothing to debate here. You need to abort this pregnancy before you get attached to the idea.”
“You’re fired,” Alexandra said softly.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve heard all I wish to hear from you on the matter.” She met the doctor’s gaze. “You. Are. Fired. Please leave my room immediately, or I will be forced to have security escort you out.”
“I would implore you to reconsider. After we adjust your medication, and you are thinking more clearly.”
“I am in full possession of my mental faculties.”
The doctor argued, “In your best interest, a psych hold should be implemented—”
“Leave!” Gabe demanded. “Now.”
Once the physician left, Gabe sat on the bed and gathered Alexandra into his arms. She was already sobbing. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. Your babies are safe. We’re going to get you out of here. I’ll get you home, today.” To the technician he said, “Inform whoever needs to be informed, Alexandra refuses all further treatment and will be leaving immediately.”
“Sir, I can’t do that.”
“Whether you can or can’t doesn’t really matter. You’re dismissed.” Conor opened the door and held it as she wheeled her equipment out.
♥ ♥ ♥
Several hours later, Jonathon opened his eyes.
“There you are.” Gabe smiled and rubbed his shoulder.
“Alexandra?”
“Severe concussion. She wanted to be here when you woke up, but I forced her go home. You saved her.”
Jonathon nodded. “The assailants came from nowhere. I don’t even know how they were aware we’d left the grounds.”
“We were attacked at the estate at the same time. It appeared to be a very orchestrated event.”
“Dear god! Mamó?”
“She’s okay. More excitement than she’s been used to, but she seems to be handling it all right.”
Jonathon tried to take in a deep breath but grimaced, clutching his midsection, then coughed, crying out. “Oh, that was a mistake.”
“Breathe as deeply as you can. It will help you stave off pneumonia, and be prepared, they plan to have you sitting in a chair later today, and they’ve ordered breathing treatments and rehab, starting immediately.”
“Do they plan to try to kill me, then?”
“I’ve been assured no, but I was also told you will have several very unpleasant days. Sorry, mate. The sooner you make progress, the sooner you go home.”
“As long as Alexandra and Rowan are okay, the pain will be worth it. When can I get out of here?”
“They’re both going to be fine. You, on the other hand, look like shit and need to give yourself a few days. You still have antibiotics and blood dripping into your arm. The chest tube will probably come out in another day or two, once they’re certain your lungs will stay inflated on their own. When it’s out, we can probably get you moved to the estate easily enough.”
“Fine. A few days.” Jonathon closed his eyes. “Don’t even think about staying here with me. Go, be with them. I’ll be a grumpy old bear and probably flirt outrageously with the nurses every chance I get.”
Gabe knew the moment he fell asleep and only then went to the nurses’ station to make certain they had detailed instructions on how to get ahold of him.
♥ ♥ ♥
By the time Gabe returned to the estate, he found Conor and Alexandra in a heated debate. He stepped between them. Facing Alexandra, he demanded, “Why are you out of bed?”
“I’m fine.”
“She’s stumbled and has almost fallen twice now.”
“Really? Throw me under the bus the minute he gets here, will you? Damn, Conor, my balance is off, but I’m—”
Gabe swept her off her feet and carried her up the staircase, ignoring her protests. Conor and a Secret Service agent followed them. Conor pulled back the sheets, and Gabe put her in the bed.
“She’ll just climb out again the minute you turn your back.”
Gabe pulled his shirt over his head. “No, she won’t, or I’ll tie her to the damn headboard.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said, outraged and already trying to sit up.
“Try me, woman.” He pushed her back down, leaning into her chest with just enough force to make a point as she continued to struggle. “Stay! I’ve sat by your bedside for days. I learned you’ve been purposely hiding a pregnancy from me when you should have trusted me enough to honor any decision you needed to make—”
She collapsed against the pillows, a tear sliding down her cheek. She said in a huff, “I wasn’t keeping the pregnancy from you. I was keeping it from myself.”
Conor sat on the edge of the bed while Gabe finished stripping. “That part is true, I believe. She refused to acknowledge any changes in her body.”
Gabe frowned as he climbed under the covers with her and accused, “You knew?”
“I suspected. Third time pregnancy for me, there are signs that glare after the first.” Conor supplied, “Nausea, dizziness, but mostly her breasts, especially her nipples, are much more sensitive. When I tried to talk to her about it, she had excuses for everything.”
“I’m still here.”
Gabe saw the crime scene in his mind—nine dead bodies between the assailants’ SUV and the one he and Conor had been driving in—and kissed her temple. “Thank God for that.”
“How long are you making me stay in bed?”
“Not me. Doctor’s orders.”
“I fired my doctor.”
Gabe pulled her into him and wrapped his arm around her. “Your discharging doctor was for the head trauma. He couldn’t care less if you’re pregnant. He’s very concerned if you have a subsequent head injury, because it could kill you. Severe concussions are tricky like that. Let’s keep your noggin safe for the next six months. So, no contact sports, no dancing, no running, not even a slow jog, no—”
“If you say no sex—”
“You can safely resume sex when you are free from headaches and dizziness, and no longer see double. Probably a week or two, tops.”
“A week or two? Let’s not get all insane about this. I mean, rough sex, sure—don’t slap the girl for a bit—but plain missionary? I’m good to go. Fuck me now. I’ll just lie here like a good girl and take it.”
“You’re going to play at being a good girl now, is that it?” Gabe smirked. “In my mind, you’ve been a very bad girl, and I don’t think you’d be happy with the consequences bad girls face when they play with me.”
Alexandra’s eyes went wide, and he chuckled at her shocked expression.
“Your body is off-limits for one week minimum and possibly two.”
She looked pleadingly at Conor. “Don’t even. I’m on Gabe and the doctor’s side.”
She exhaled loudly.
Gabe’s phone rang, and he looked at the screen. “Dr. Claassen.”
“Ignore it; she just lost her guaranteed payday.”
Gabe let the call go to voice mail, then listened to the message. “She sent you a list of obstetricians who are considered experts at treating OB patients who have bipolar disorder. She said she would be willing to go over your medication and explain which should and shouldn’t be taken during pregnancy. She also advised going on lithium immediately after the birth to prevent postpartum psychosis.”
Alexandra shook her head. “I don’t care. She only changed her tune because she saw her payday fly out the window. I will not let her near me or my babies!”
Gabe spooned around her and hugged her tightly from behind. Even as he made the promise, he knew he might be lying to her. “It’s going to be okay.”
She rolled toward Gabe and stroked his face. “Postpartum psychosis is a serious complication.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. I might seem fine, but I might not be. If they survive—and there is no guarantee they will, but if they do—please don’t leave me alone with them for a moment. Promise me now.”
Gabe said, “I promise.”
Alexandra nodded and closed her eyes.
“Sleep mask?” Gabe asked.
She nodded, not opening her eyes, and he settled the mask over her face. Gabe and Conor both wrapped arms around her.
“Can we not talk about the babies like they’re real for a while?” she asked softly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose them.”
“Whatever you need, sweetheart. That’s what we’ll do,” Gabe promised. While she slept, he researched bipolar and pregnancy, reading every article he could find on the Web. Afterward, he researched each of the obstetricians referred by Dr. Claassen.
Conor lay beside them, eyes closed, but Gabe knew the man wasn’t asleep. He’d seen his face when the emergency doctor asked them the name of her ob-gyn.
He hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t mentioned any possibility of TJ being the father. But if not, being as far along as she was, she would have had to conceive the first night—crazy sex night—in which case any of the three of them could be the father. Or one of the men she’d had sex with in Montana.
“I know you’re thinking about it as hard as I am,” Conor said, eyes still closed. “We have no idea who the father is.”
“Does it matter?” Gabe asked.
“Not to me.”
“Nor me, so it’s a non-issue, right?”