PREGNANT FOR A PRICE Read online

  “Yeah, I bet that's not the only body part he'd like to give you.”

  I laughed. “You're terrible.”

  Julia got herself a cup of coffee and plopped down on the couch beside me. “Seriously though, Dr. Thorne is a nice guy. Successful. And he is totally into you.”

  “Unfortunately for him, the feeling isn't mutual. He is a very nice guy though.”

  She cocked her head and looked at me. “Why aren't you into him? I thought he ticked off all your little boyfriend boxes.”

  I shrugged. “He ticks a lot of them off, but there's just something about him that is a little bit… lacking. For lack of a better word. I mean, he's like the ideal guy in a lot of ways. But there's just something missing.”

  She nodded sagely. “Like perhaps, an element of danger? A little excitement, maybe?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said. “I dunno. I just envision getting together with him and seeing myself spending a lot of Friday nights playing Scrabble or attending lectures on the color of paint used in Renaissance art.”

  Julia giggled. “He is a little tame. That's for sure.”

  “Tame is a good word.”

  “But I thought that's what you wanted?” she asked. “Tame. Stable. Not going to surprise you by leading a double life as an international assassin?”

  “Oh, I do,” I replied. “But I also want a little more than Friday night Scrabble. Can't a girl have a little bit of excitement mixed in with the stability?”

  “You just want the world, don't you?” she asked and smiled.

  I shrugged. “Probably why I'm single.”

  “Well, if you're looking for a guy with a little edge, there's always mister multiple gunshot wounds in there.”

  I playfully smacked her hand. “As if. That's a little too much edge.”

  She laughed and looked at her watch. “Gotta go. Need to finish up a few things and then Eric is taking me to dinner.”

  I squeezed her hand gently. “Good. I'm glad to see you so happy, Jules. You deserve it.”

  She leaned in and wrapped me up in a tight embrace. “So do you, hon. So do you.”

  ***

  I walked down the corridor, trying to figure myself out. Yeah, I desired the stability that somebody like Dr. Thorne offered. But I couldn't deny that the blandness and lack of excitement I got from him was a turn-off. I didn't want somebody who was an emotional roller coaster every day of the week. But I did want somebody who could surprise me. Who could add a little spice to my life.

  Was that too much to ask?

  Nurse Winters, you have a call on line nine. Call on line nine.

  A jolt of adrenaline shot through me. I never got calls at work – which automatically freaked me out. The first thought that ran through my mind was that it was Mandy calling to tell me something had happened to Austin.

  I rushed over to the admin desk and snatched up the phone. Cindy, the nurse on duty, gave me a concerned expression – probably in reaction to my own. I pressed the phone to my ear.

  “This is nurse Winters,” I said.

  “Cara,” she said. “I need some help.”

  The knot in my stomach evaporated and was replaced by a ball of anger. The look on my face must have changed because Cindy suddenly got up and found something to do on the other side of the station, giving me a little privacy.

  “What in the hell are you doing calling me at work, Grace?”

  “Honey,” she said. “I'm sorry to be calling you at work – I know you don't like it. And I wouldn't be if I weren't in trouble.”

  I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache starting to form. “What kind of trouble are you in, Grace? And why should I care?”

  “Why? Because I'm your mother.”

  Yeah, as if that meant anything. I bit my tongue and didn't say it though. I wanted to end the conversation as quickly and painlessly as possible. And saying something like that would have stirred up more drama than a group of high school girls.

  “What do you want, Grace?”

  She hesitated a moment before speaking. “I–I owe some money to a guy,” she said. “He gave me some – stuff – on the condition that I pay him back for it. And I don't have it. I need some help, honey.”

  I sighed again, pitching my voice lower even though Cindy was respectful enough to keep her distance from me.

  “Not my problem, Grace,” I said. “I've told you before… I'm not giving you any money. Zero. Zip.”

  “Cara, I'm afraid he's going to hurt me if he doesn't get his money,” she whined, her voice sounding like it was on the edge of panic. “Jimmy D doesn't mess around. He's killed a lot of people who crossed him.”

  I never knew what was reality and what was fiction with my mother. She tended to overdramatize things in an effort to get what she wanted. She'd always been that way. And her manipulations only got worse the deeper into the drugs she got. It was why I had to put a wall between us – one that I couldn't break. Because if I did, there would be no fixing it. It would never be “just this once” with her. She was like a stray cat – you feed it once, you're going to have to keep feeding it.

  “Maybe you should have thought of that before you took his dope without having the money to pay for it.”

  My voice was so cold that it made me cringe. Inside, I was a mess. I didn't want Grace being hurt or worse – and yet, I couldn't allow myself and my son to be sucked into her world. I'd been there once, and I was never going back. And I sure as hell wouldn't be taking Austin there with me.

  “How can you be so cruel, Cara?” She was sobbing now.

  “Because I have to be, Grace. It's not just my life I have to look out for.”

  “Cara, he's going to kill me!” she screamed.

  “Then run, Grace. Run far, far away and don't come back.”

  My hand was trembling, and I felt the sting of tears in my eyes when I hung up the phone. It was hard to do, but it had to be done. I couldn't let myself get caught up in my mother's drama. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, of course, but I couldn't do anything about it.

  I'd offered to help her many times – and every time, she'd refused to get off the dope. Chasing her next high was more important to her than me. Or even her grandson. She'd drawn her line, so I'd had to draw mine.

  “You okay?” Cindy asked me.

  I wiped away the tears before they fell and nodded. “Yeah, I'm okay.”

  She nodded and gave my arm a gentle squeeze. I looked up and thought about what my mother had said. And as I did, it got my brain working. I might not be willing to give her any money, but maybe I could still help her out and at least, keep her from getting beaten up. Or worse.

  Damian had gone on and on about the Kings keeping Fernwood free of the dope pushers and all. Maybe if I dropped a mention to him about this Jimmy D and asked for his help, he'd be able to get my mom off the hook.

  Of course, I worried that his help would come with a price tag attached to it. And was making sure my mother didn't wind up face down with four bullets in her worth the price he was likely going to ask? I knew it was only a matter of time before she ended up in our morgue from an overdose or her heart just finally giving out after a lifetime of drug abuse. But did I really want to see her roll through those doors riddled with bullets?

  I sighed and decided to see what the price would be. Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, I got off and walked toward the recovery room. At that time of night, the place was mostly deserted. And because it was a slow night in the ER, it was like a ghost town.

  I turned down the corridor for the recovery rooms and made my way down to Damian's room. I was probably a fool and a sucker for even going to ask, but it would at least clear my conscience a bit. I wasn't sure that he was going to be awake though, so I approached his room as quietly as I could.

  I was just about to push the door open when I heard voices inside. I cocked my head and listened. Visiting hours were long over, so I wasn't sure who would have come in.
It certainly didn't sound like anybody I knew.

  “Can't believe you survived four shots, puto,” one voice said.

  “Maybe your boss shoots like a bitch,” Damian replied. “Or maybe I'm immortal.”

  “That's why Mendoza sent us down here,” said another voice. “To make sure you didn't survive again.”

  “Figures he wouldn't come down here to do it himself,” Damian said. “That he'd send a couple of his little bitches down to do his dirty work for him.”

  “Hey, I ain't nobody's bitch, asshole,” the first voice said.

  Damian laughed. “You are absolutely his bitch.”

  “Do it, man,” the second man said. “Let's get this shit over with and go grab somethin' to eat.”

  “What's it going to be, boys? Gunshot? Smother me with my pillow?” Damian asked. “How are you gonna do me?”

  I peeked through the thin crack in the door and saw the man – tall, thick shouldered, and with a considerable gut on him, holding a syringe filled with an amber fluid. Both men were Hispanic, which told me they weren't Kings. But I wasn't up on my motorcycle gangs, so I had no idea who they were – or if they even belonged to a gang. The guy just looked hard. Rough. Which made me think he was a biker.

  “One hot shot,” the man said. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Genius.” Damian laughed. “Except for the fact that I've never done heroin. It's gonna look a little fishy when they start doing the autopsy, you know.”

  “W–what's he talkin' about?” the second man asked.

  “He's just talkin',” the first replied. “They're just gonna think he's another junkie.”

  “If you believe that, you're stupider than you look,” Damian said. “You don't even know what kind of tests they can run to see what levels of a drug you have in your system.”

  Damian was stalling. Buying time. Probably trying to formulate a plan on the fly.

  “Bullshit.”

  “And how will you explain not only me having a needle of H,” he said. “But your faces on camera coming into this room mere minutes before I OD?”

  “Cameras?”

  Damian laughed. “You guys really suck at this,” he said. “There are cameras all over this place. Guess you didn't think this out all that well.”

  “I told you, eh—” the first man said.

  “Shut the fuck up for a minute,” the second snapped.

  There was silence in the room for several long moments. I stood there in the hallway, not sure what to do. I could burst into the room, pretending to be checking on a patient and hopefully break things up. But I had a feeling things would take a turn for the worse and there was no way Damian, in his condition, could fight the two of them off. Hell, he probably wouldn't even be able to fight me off at this point. And there was sure as hell no way I could fight either of them off. I was tough and stronger than I looked, but the one guy I saw was big. Really big.

  There was no easy answer. If I left to get security, Damian would probably be dead by the time I got back. About the only alternative I had was to go into the room and hope for the best.

  So, that's what I did.

  “Good evening, Mr. Hawke,” I said as I strolled casually into his room. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had friends here. I'm sorry, gentlemen, but visiting hours are over. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

  I gave Damian a look I hoped told him that I knew what was going on. He gave me a curious look in return, so I wasn't sure that he understood. The two men in the room – large, Hispanic men, the both of them – looked at me with a mixture of surprise and anger.

  “We just need to talk to our homie,” the bigger of the two said – the man I'd seen from the doorway. “We just need a couple of minutes. Alone.”

  I shook my head. “I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Now. Mr. Hawke is recovering from a serious injury and needs his rest.”

  “I don't think you heard him,” the second man – Oscar, if the tattoo on his neck was accurate – said, his voice low and menacing. “We need a minute with our holmes here.”

  I gave them my best saccharine sweet smile. “Oh, I heard him just fine. I'm just making you aware that there are policies in place in this hospital and you're in violation of them. Now, if you refuse to leave, I can call security. Or, we can all just play nice, and you can come back first thing in the morning when visiting hours start up again.”

  Damian cleared his throat. “Nurse Winters, I just need a minute here,” he said. “Can you just give us a few?”

  I looked at Damian and saw what he was doing – trying to get me out of the room because he thought it would keep me safe. It was as transparent as the window. But there was no way in hell I was going to leave him in here to be killed by these two. I may not have thought much of Damian Hawke on a personal level, but I certainly wasn't going to let him be killed on my floor, on my watch.

  “I'm sorry, Mr. Hawke,” I said sweetly. “But we have rules, and everybody must abide by them. Even you and your friends.”

  The two men took a step toward me. They towered over me, and their presence was more than a little intimidating. But I held my ground and did my best to avoid looking like I was as terrified as I felt. If I let myself cower or whimper, that would be feeding the beast and giving them exactly what they expected and wanted. It would only encourage and embolden them. So, instead, I stood up a little straight and slipped my cell phone out of my pocket, thumbing it on.

  “Or, I can go ahead and call security now,” I said.

  The two men shared a look between themselves but didn't back off. The first one then turned to me and smiled wide.

  “This bitch has got some balls. I'll give her that.”

  “This bitch also has security on speed dial,” I told him. “All I need to do is press one button.”

  The air in the room was filled with an electric tension. It was like thunderheads, loaded with the threat of violence, hung in the air over us. And one little spark could set the whole thing off.

  “Look, assholes,” Damian said from his bed, “it's best if you take off. Come back another time, and we can resume this conversation. Trust me – it's in your own best interest.”

  The two men looked at each other one more time, nervousness on their faces. The first man looked at Damian with pure hatred in his eyes.

  “Yeah, we'll catch up with you soon, holmes.”

  “Looking forward to it,” he replied.

  The men walked out of the room, and when they were gone, I let out a sigh of relief. My knees felt weak, and I had to hold myself up on the end of Damian's bed to keep from falling. My entire body was trembling, and I felt completely raw.

  “That was incredibly stupid,” Damian said.

  “A simple thank you for saving your ass would suffice,” I snapped back, my voice trembling.

  “You could have gotten yourself killed,” he said. “Those two goons—”

  “Were here to kill you,” I said. “I heard everything from the doorway.”

  He sighed and shook his head. I was slowly regaining control of myself and looked over at Damian. And for the first time, I saw fear coloring his features. He knew how close he'd come to death – and knew that if I hadn't come by, he very well might be a corpse.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why did they want to kill you?”

  “I think the less you know, the better,” he replied. “Safer.”

  “That's not for you to decide. And now, you owe me some goddamn answers. Are those the same men who shot you in the first place?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “Not them. The guy who shot me was the president of the MC they belong to though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they think my MC is responsible for something. They wanted to send a message.”

  “Responsible for what?” I pressed.

  I wasn't sure I really wanted the answers to the questions I was asking, but I felt entitled to them anyway. He sighed and looked away ag
ain.

  “I'm waiting,” I said.

  “My MC was running security for one of their shipments,” he said. “Truck got jacked, their shipment got taken, and now they're saying we owe them.”

  “Is it true?”

  He shrugged. “Got no idea what happened or how true any of it is,” he said. “All I know is that they changed the terms of the deal during the run – and without telling my MC's president. You ask me, it feels like a setup. Like they're using this as a pretext for something bigger.”