Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I’m left with no choice but to holster my gun and sprint for Macy when she staggers forward too fast for her woozy head to keep up with. I reach her in just enough time. Instead of collapsing on the rigid ground, she falls into my arms, where her unsteady sways coat my dress shirt with bright, fresh blood.
It’s everywhere—her head, her arms, and her feet, and her breathing is shallow. Dangerously shallow.
After lowering her to the ground, careful not to brush her raw knuckles, bruised from when she must have fought back, I remove a strand of blood-matted hair from her already bruising eye.
My voice is as shaky as my hands when I pretend her attackers didn’t put her through the wringer. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just hold on. Help is on the way.”
Macy’s eyes flutter as she tries to focus on me, but I can see the pain settling behind them. She’s hurting—badly—and I can’t hear any fucking sirens.
“Hurry, Brandon!” I scream, hoping he can still hear me. We’re between skyscrapers, and everyone knows reception is shit between skyscrapers.
“Gray… Gray…” Macy coughs, splattering her chin with crimson droplets. “Cam… Cameron…” Her words trail off as her body shudders with shock. She’s barely holding on, and it surges my fear to its pinnacle. But she doesn’t give up. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word. “She… she…”
“It’s okay, freckles.” I cradle her face and stroke her non-bruised cheek with my thumb. She needs to conserve her energy. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss everything once we’ve made sure you’re okay. That’s all that matters right now. You are my top priority. I just need you to keep fighting, okay? You need to be brave for a little longer.”
I’m terrified of hurting her more, but when her blood soaks my hand and shirt, I force myself to check her wounds. She could bleed out if I don’t find the source of the blood changing the color of her hair from molten black to auburn.
A nanosecond later, I discover the main culprit of her dazed state. The large gash on the back of her skull from being struck by the tire wrench is oozing blood—enough to be fatal.
She groans when I pull my shirt over my head and use its wadded-up ball to place pressure on her wound. “I’m sorry.” I can’t be gentle. Not now. The split is too large for a minimalist approach.
A sob rattles in my rib cage when the faint woo of sirens trickles in the distance.
Help is on the way.
Finally.
“They’re coming, Mace. They’re almost here.”
She tries to reply, but a groan escapes her before she can. Her eyes darken with terror as her back bends over the asphalt.
I worry that I missed a life-threatening wound until her bruised hand lowers to her stomach. “The… the baby. I think the baby is coming.”
Terror claws at me when I press my hand against her baby bump, and the tightening of a contraction strains across my palm. She’s fighting for her life and in labor.
This couldn’t be more dangerous.
“Needle… Sh-she jabbed me with a-a needle.”
As my eyes take in a fresh puncture wound on Macy’s neck, the favored insertion point for baby thieves when inducing victims, I strive to keep her focus where it needs to be. On her and her unborn son.
“You’re so brave,” I say to her, needing to keep her calm until the paramedics arrive. “And although it is a little earlier than you were planning, you’ve got this. I know you do.”
After placing her bloodied hand over mine, she faintly nods.
She’s so fucking brave, so fucking strong, I can’t stop singing her praises. I remind her that she is the toughest, boldest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. That even if her son only takes on a handful of her genes, he’ll be as fit as an ox and the smartest member of our team.
I say “our” in a way she can’t misconstrue. It has the same level of partnership it had when I said “us” earlier tonight.
As the sirens in the distance grow louder, Macy’s fear shifts her motivations from business to personal. “Don’t… don’t leave me. I… I have to tell… tell you about Cameron—” A contraction steals her focus, and pain shreds the confidence from her eyes.
“You’ve got this,” I remind her again while breathing as the Lamaze instructor taught us.
Only once her breathing is steady do I attempt to restore a smidge of the confidence she lost with a promise I will fulfill no matter the obstacle. “I won’t leave you. I promise I won’t.”
Blood bubbles on her lips when she announces the cause of her vulnerability. “I’m-I’m scared. I don’t wa-want to do this by myself.”
“You have nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be at your side the entire time.”