Surprise Delivery (Page 29)

I look up and find him staring back at me, his face dark and full of anger. I feel myself growing weaker – like a toy or something whose batteries are draining fast.

“I’m not doing this,” I say. “Get out of my way, Brad.”

I push past him, but he grabs my arm again, spinning me around to face him. His eyes bore into mine with a crazed light that scares me. He leans close, his breath warm against my face. I recoil and try to pull away, but he holds me fast.

“You and I belong together, Lexi,” he growls. “You know it and I know it, so stop fucking around. Stop playing hard to get. You belong to me. You’re mine.”

The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh rings out and it seems to take him a moment to register the fact that I’ve just slapped him across the face. His cheek is red from where my hand made contact and his eyes grow wide and startled, the expression on his face is one of pure disbelief that I would hit him. He’s so shocked that his hold on my arm loosens and I take the opportunity to pull myself away from him.

“Stay the hell away from me, Brad,” I hiss.

The shock doesn’t last long enough for me to get away, though. When I turn, his hand shoots out like a piston, and his grip on me is like steel. My head swimming and starbursts appearing at the edges of my vision, I cry out again. The people passing by us slow and look at me curiously. Some of them are just looking forward to the prospect of bloodshed because it excites them – yet, nobody steps in to help me.

“Let go of me,” I scream in his face. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

I reach back to slap him across the face again, but Brad catches my hand, squeezing my fingers together, bone grinding on bone in my hand painfully. There are tears rolling down my cheeks and a spike of pain pierces my entire body.

“You’re hurting me, Brad,” I shout. “Let go of me.”

As I’m rocked by another blast of pain, I close my eyes and grit my teeth, refusing to give in to it. All of a sudden, Brad releases me. I open my eyes to see two large men – bikers, by the look of them – pulling him off of me. The larger of the two, a bald man with a goatee has his massive hand wrapped around Brad’s throat, his face filled with malice. The second one turns to me, his eyes filled with concern, and when he speaks, he’s surprisingly soft-spoken.

“Are you okay, Miss?” he asks.

Not really, but I’m better now than I was ten seconds ago. Flushed with gratitude for my two guardian angels, I nod.

“I’m okay,” I say. “I just need to get out of here.”

The man nods. “You go on ahead,” he encourages. “We’ll keep him – entertained – for a bit.”

“Thank you,” I say, fresh tears rolling down my cheeks. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he answers.

Brad is struggling mightily in the other man’s grip, his eyes wide and filled with terror. He’s screaming my name and the crowd on the sidewalk has stopped to watch the spectacle unfolding. Still holding onto his throat, the goateed man drives his fist into Brad’s stomach. I hear the breath leaving Brad’s lungs in a violent whoosh and he doubles over, wheezing as he tries to catch his breath. I look to the soft-spoken man and give him a nod.

“Thank you again,” I say.

“Think nothing of it,” he tells me. “Now, you’d best be on your way.”

I turn and take off as quickly as I can – which, at my stage of pregnancy isn’t all that quickly at all. I waddle down the sidewalk, people parting for me like the Red Sea as I go. I hear cheers and shouts behind me, hear Brad cry out, and suddenly feel a stab of guilt for the rough treatment he’s getting at the hands of the two bikers – it’s a feeling I quickly try to snuff out.

“He brought it on himself,” I mutter. “He deserves it.”

I round a corner and feel a lightning bolt of pain lance through my entire body. I cling to the wall for support, but it’s so blinding and intense, my knees buckle and the next thing I know, I’m on the ground. A crowd has gathered around me, people looking at and talking to each other, a few of them shouting questions at me. I groan loudly as I’m riddled by another sharp burst of pain.

It’s then I realize that something isn’t right. No, something is, in fact, very, very wrong. My vision is starting to darken and all of the noise on the street around me takes on a fuzzy, muted sound to it – almost like I’m hearing everything from underwater or something.

“Just hold on,” somebody in the crowd says. “We’ve called an ambulance.”

All I can do is sit there, moaning as more, fresh pain tears through my body. I don’t know what’s happening. Hell, I don’t know if I’m going to last until the ambulance gets here. There’s a sticky wetness between my thighs I know this isn’t normal, but I don’t want to look down and see how bad it is.

I’m suddenly tired. Exhausted, actually. My whole body seems to be shutting down and I want nothing more at that moment than to lean into the warm embrace of sleep. I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes, waiting for the darkness to sweep me away. Maybe even welcoming it.

“Alexis. Alexis.”

The sound of somebody speaking my name fills my ears, though it sounds like it’s coming from a thousand miles away.

“I just want to sleep,” I mutter.

“Alexis,” my name being called is this time punctuated by a sharp slap to my cheek.

I open my eyes, irritated that my sleep is being interrupted – and find Duncan Clyburne gazing back at me. There’s an intense, fevered light in his eyes – and also an expression of fear. Is this real? Is it just a dream? At the moment, my head feels so stuffed with cotton, I can’t tell.

Another sharp slap answers the question for me. My cheek burns where he smacked me and I’m suddenly feeling a bit more alert.

“Stay with me,” Duncan demands. “Everything’s going to be okay. I just need you to stay awake.”

“Duncan,” I say, my voice weak. “How did you get here?”

“I’m here, Alexis,” he says. “We need to get you somewhere else.”

“Okay,” I whisper, starting to feel like I’m drifting off again.

The next thing I know, I feel like I’m floating through the air. Like I’m flying. I open my eyes and see that Duncan has me in his arms and is carrying me like I weigh nothing. He’s pushing his way through the crowd, shouting at everybody to get out of our way. The people are hesitant, but part for us.

I have no idea what’s happening to me. I know I should be scared, but with Duncan holding me, the only thing I feel is – content. I feel safe in his arms. Perhaps even happy.

“Stay with me, Alexis,” he says, his eyes fixed on mine.

Don’t worry, Duncan – I’m not going anywhere.

Seventeen

Duncan

With Alexis in my arms, I push my way into a coffee house a couple of doors down from where she collapsed. It’s not ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve worked in worse conditions. At least everything I experienced in Syria has a practical application for me now that I’m back here in New York.

“I need your back room,” I call out to the baristas as I head for the doors.

“I – I don’t think you can bring her in here, man,” says some twenty-something kid who’s probably stoned off his ass.

I ignore him and with a score of curious patrons watching us, I push through the swinging doors and step through into the back. I walk through the prep area and into the storeroom. It’s not the most sanitary environment, but at least it’s warm. It’ll work. At least, for now.

“Excuse me, sir? Sir?” she calls to me. “You can’t be back here.”

I glance over my shoulder at the diminutive blonde charging up to me, a look of pure determination on her face – she must be the manager or something. Ignoring her, I gently lay Alexis down on a table in the back room, then sweep the boxes that had been littering the surface to the floor. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of breaking glass coming from within a couple of the boxes.

“Sir,” the girl cries. “You can’t do that. And you’re going to have to pay for what you broke.”

I turn to her. “I need you to get me a large bowl full of hot water and some towels,” I instruct. “And you also need to call the ambulance. Tell them where the patient they’re looking for is.”

“Sir, this is a coffee house, not a doctor’s office –”

“A bowl of hot water and clean towels,” I snap, my voice gruff. “Get them for me now. And do not forget to call the ambulance.”

Alexis still seems to be drifting in and out of consciousness. I have no idea what Brad did to her, but if I see him again, I’m going to kill him. I take her wrist and check her pulse – it’s racing but feels strong still. That’s a good sign. Looking down, I purse my lips when I see the front of her dress is soaked in blood. That’s not a good sign.

“Sir, I’m really going to have to insist that you –”

I round on the little blonde, absolute fury coursing through me. “If you don’t do what I say – right now – this woman and her child are going to die,” I roar at her. “Is that what you want? Do you want her to die?”

The girl looks at me with a stricken expression, her eyes wide and filled with fear. She looks at Alexis as if actually seeing her for the first time – and notices the blood. Her face blanches and then looks like she’s on the verge of a panic attack. Great. Just what I need.