Her Forever Hero (Page 74)

“Our family is almost complete,” Martin said with a huge grin directed at his son Michael.

Suddenly, all eyes turned on him. When he realized what was going on, he shot up from his chair. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not even close to being ready to get married,” he said, backing away. “Hell, I’m not even thirty yet!”

“The harder they fight, the quicker they fall,” Martin said.

Michael made a quick exit from the room, and Grace beamed at her future husband. “Hmm, us girls will have to see who we can set Michael up with.”

“You go ahead and do anything you want.”

Grace leaned forward and got lost in Cam’s kiss. Her life was only just beginning.

EPILOGUE

Michael Whitman ran his knuckles against his eyes as he tried to wipe the sleep from them. What had woken him? Then he heard pounding on his front door and he sat up in bed and flicked on his lamp, the soft light still too much after pitch blackness.

He hadn’t gotten enough sleep lately, and it appeared as if tonight wasn’t going to be the night he caught up. Dammit!

Opening his bedside drawer, he pulled his Colt .45 out before sliding on a pair of jeans and securing the gun in the waistband. Then he made his way to the front of his house. Before opening the door, he stopped and listened.

What he heard made his blood run cold. There was no way that could be what he thought it was. He waited a moment longer, but the sound didn’t disappear.

So, pulling the gun from his pants, he undid the locks. “I have a gun, so if you’re planning anything funny, I will shoot first and then ask questions,” he warned.

Then he pushed open the door and quickly scanned the area. No one was out there. Well, it appeared for a moment as if no one was out there. That was until he looked down.

The color drained from his face, and he took a step back as the gun dropped to his side. His hands shaking, he set the gun aside on the entryway table and then dropped to his knees as he picked up a note that was attached to a baby carrier with a very tiny and very irate infant sitting in it.

Michael,

I’m so sorry to leave her with you like this, but I have no choice. Her mother died giving birth and she needs her father. That’s you, in case you were wondering. Please, please take care of her. She was wanted and she was and is loved. Her name is Lucy. She’s two weeks old. In the envelope is all the information I can give you right now. Please forgive me for doing this to you, but know that my heart is breaking as I leave her.

There was no signature, no contact information, nothing apart from the note. And Lucy was an unhappy baby. Not having the slightest clue what to do, Michael grasped the car seat and brought the infant into the house, where he then struggled to get her out of the straps and awkwardly pick her up.

She didn’t stop crying. Reaching for this phone, he dialed his father.

“I need you now!” He hung up, knowing his dad would come, right after calling his brothers. What in the world was he going to do?