Be My Hero(33)

"Bullshit!" He jabbed his finger accusingly in my direction. "What  happened to the girl I met who said kids gave her the willies?"

"You knocked her up," I shot back, fury rising inside me. "So I guess I'm just going to have to learn to adjust."

"Jesus Christ," Alec shouted inside the garage, making me narrow my eyes  and set my hand on my hip. "Why can't you just take care of this?"

"I am! I'm going to stay here and take care of my baby, like a mother should."

"A mother? Oh my God." He let out a degrading laugh. "Are you even  listening to yourself? This is not you. You're not mother material, Eva.  You're a fucking spoiled, rich cunt."

Ouch. That one hurt. I was a single, nineteen-year-old child with no  job, no home, and I was about to bring an innocent little human into the  world and be totally responsible for her. Sudden dizziness made me sway  on my feet. Poor Skylar seemed royally screwed and she wasn't even born  yet. With a douchebag for a father and a spoiled, rich cunt for a  mother, my baby didn't stand a chance.

But I was still determined give her one. No matter what anyone thought, I  would love my girl and I'd find a way to be a damn good mother, if it  was the last thing I did.

I squared my shoulders. "Just because I didn't plan on this ever  happening, doesn't mean I'm going to brush it aside like a minor  inconvenience. I'm keeping my child."

Alec sneered as if he knew a secret. "Well, I can't allow you to do that."

I tried to tug my arm away from him. "Why not? I'm not asking you to do anything. In fact, I don't even want you involved."

Alec jerked me closer. "How stupid do you think I am? I know you'll get  the law on your side, and you'll fucking bleed everything from me. You  could hold this over me for the rest of my life, suck me dry with some  bullshit child support, make me pay for all kinds of shit I want nothing  to do with. And I refuse to let you get away with it."

"Alec . . . " I gave a long, tired sigh and even rolled my eyes as  dramatically as I could, even though my heart was racing. For some  irrational reason, I thought letting him see my fear would cause him to  pounce. "Believe me." Please, please believe me. "I will not do that to  you. I don't want anything from you. Actually, if I never saw you again,  I would be overwhelmed with joy. I'll even sign a piece of paper saying  so."

"See, now." Alec shook his head and laughed softly. "I'm having trouble  believing that. I know you, remember? I know what a conniving,  manipulative bitch you are. And I refuse to let you continue this."

"Well, I've changed." I huffed out a sound of aggravation when I tried  to tug my arm free of his grip and he wouldn't release me. "People can  change, you know. Now let me go."         

     



 

"Not until you agree to get rid of it."

Was he on crack? It was way too late for an abortion, even if I'd been  on board with the idea. I sniffed and lifted my chin. "Never."

"Then you leave me no other choice."

Oh, shit. I realized I'd made a big mistake by standing up to him, and  even egging his temper on, a split second before he shoved me against  the wall.

As my back cracked against sheetrock and then my head banged into it,  fear seized me. He clutched me by the throat until I was screaming and  screaming, and just screaming for all I was worth, hoping I was loud  enough to get Mason and Reese's attention.

He was going to try to hurt my baby. I didn't feel the pain at first; I  was too scared for Skylar and what Alec was trying to do to her. But  then he punched me in the stomach.

I think I kept screaming. I'm not sure. The sound echoed through my ears  as I tried to curl my arms around myself and protect my daughter. But  he held me by the neck, pinning me in place, loose enough that I could  continue to scream, yet tight enough I couldn't get away. I could barely  breathe, let alone shield my stomach. My legs flailed, but the  splitting feeling inside me was so severe it was hard to concentrate on  much of anything past each gushing slice.

Just as abruptly as he attacked, Alec stopped. The pressure on my throat  vanished, and I crumpled to the floor. I couldn't stop myself, couldn't  catch my fall, could barely gasp for air. It was as if I had no control  over my own limbs. I landed with a jarring thud, which hurt even more.  But at least the assault was over.

I thought maybe Alec had come to his senses and backed off.

But then he said, "What the-" just before an oof and the thud of  something cracking against bone echoed throughout the garage. A choked  groan followed.

"You just messed with the wrong girl, pal," someone growled, his voice pissed and male.

From inside my shell of agony, muted sounds of fists against flesh  followed, along with shouting and threats. I knew someone was defending  me, but at the moment I didn't care. I was too busy trying not to die on  the floor. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I cradled my stomach.

Skylar wasn't moving. She always wiggled around or jumped when something startled her.

Why wasn't she moving?

"No," I croaked and rested my cheek on the floor, squeezing my eyes  tight as my abdomen felt like it was exploding and tearing apart from  the inside.

More shouting filled the garage. I think I finally heard Mason's voice  join the melee, but suddenly Reese was with me, her hand on my shoulder  and her panicked voice in my ear. "E.? Eva! Can you hear me?"

I tried to nod, or answer, or even blink, but all I could manage was a  pained gasp when another round of horror constricted my abdomen.

"E.?" Reese tried again, her voice trembling. "What happened? Are you okay? Oh my God. Mason. She's hurt bad."

The agony-filled wave passed, leaving a low, aching throb. I drew in a  breath and tried to talk again. "I think I'm bleeding." My cramped  fingers somehow managed to uncurl enough for me to try to look down  between my legs, because I could feel a trickle. I wanted to make sure  it wasn't blood, but I couldn't see past the baby bump.

Another lightning bolt of pain arched across my belly. I curled in around my baby.

"No! No, no, no." One of the male voices turned hoarse as he crouched  down beside me. I thought it was Mason until he croaked, "Tinker Bell?"  and then I realized it was Pick.

As warm, tender arms enfolded me, I opened my lashes and looked up into a pair of devastated brown eyes. "Pick?"

He scooped me against his chest. He'd finally made it. Just in time.

He kissed my forehead. "Hey, beautiful. You want to take a ride with me?  I got a real fast car, and we can get you taken care of in no time."

For a moment, I was confused. Why was he talking about cars and rides  when it felt as if everything inside me was splitting apart and my baby  was in trouble? But then I understood what he meant. Hospital.

That's when I knew it was bad. Maybe if he'd sounded as cool and  collected as I'd always heard him, I could've stayed calm. But he  sounded scared, so I got scared.

What if . . . what if Skylar didn't . . . make it? What if Alec had succeeded in . . . ?

Too horrific.

I sobbed out a moan and buried my face in Pick's shirt, my fingers clutching fistfuls. I was so grateful he was here with me.

"It hurts," I told him. It wouldn't hurt so bad if Skylar was okay, would it? Something had to be wrong.

Something was wrong with my baby.

"I know, baby. I know." Crooning, Pick pulled me closer and stood.

Nausea filled me as another band of pain tightened around my abdomen. I  tried the breathing technique I'd used when my father had brutalized me.  Long, even breaths. But I couldn't seem to calm down enough to stop the  fast, shallow pants. I thought I was going to vomit when I was suddenly  sky-born and lifted off the ground. Oh, God. Vertigo made my head swim  and my stomach convulse.         

     



 

"Well?" Pick's voice barked. No clue who he was talking to. "Let's get her to the hospital."

I checked out for a minute, refusing to think about anything but his  smell clouding my nose. It was hard to think anyway. So I let his scent,  which reminded me of coconut tanning oil, make me miss the only thing  from Florida that actually made me feel at home. A nice, warm sunny day.  The beach. Sand and the soft spray of a wet ocean.

Pressed up against this man who smelled like my favorite kind of sunny day lulled me. I was home again.

People were talking around me, but I didn't really register what they  were saying. To focus on words would be to focus on the pain and on what  might be happening to the baby inside me.

I clenched my eyes shut and curled deeper into Pick. At that moment, he was the only thing in my universe.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," he murmured into my ear, his voice finally strong with confidence and reassurance.

I clung to that reassurance.

He jostled me enough to let me know we were sliding into a car, then I  was nestled on his lap and his arms readjusted to hold me close. I  couldn't stop squeezing the front of his shirt. Occasional starts of  pain would breach my consciousness, but I was good at blocking  unpleasant things. I'd done it for years.