Bodyguard's Baby Surprise (11 page)

He kept kissing her. But he touched her, too. One fingertip traced down her spine before his hands cupped her hips. He dragged her closer to him. And she could feel the hardness of his erection.

She reached between them for the button on his pants. But she fumbled with it. So he moved her hand aside and pulled the button free. Then he lowered his zipper. He kicked off his pants. Stepping back, he removed his holster and put it and the gun on the bedside table. He pulled his shirt up over his head.

Heat flushed her body at the sight of his chest and arms—all bare skin and rippling muscles. Her gaze lowered, tracing his washboard abs. His erection had pushed up out of the waistband of his boxers. The tip of it begged for her touch.

She obliged.

He groaned as her fingers closed around him. She pushed his shorts down and slid her hand up and down his shaft.

“Annalise...” That muscle twitched in his cheek again.

He pulled her hand from him and lifted her. He carried her to the bed as easily as if she didn't have extra weight now. As if he didn't have a wounded shoulder.

She reached for it but was careful not to touch his injury again. “Nick, you're going to tear your stitches open for certain.”

“Don't worry about me,” he said.

But she did. She always had. She'd worried about him living alone with that woman who had cared more about her next high than she had about her son. She'd worried about him when he'd joined the Marines and when he'd been recruited into the FBI. She had spent her life worrying about Nick.

And given their current situation, she wasn't about to stop anytime soon. Unless they could stop whoever was after them.

He kissed her forehead, where furrows of concern had formed for him. Then he kissed her nose and her lips and the end of her chin. His lips kept moving, down her throat, over her collarbone.

Finally he pushed her bra down, and his lips closed over the tip of one breast. She arched up as pleasure spiraled through her body. He tugged gently with his lips and then his teeth. A tension began to build inside her.

She squirmed on the bed. His hand was there, moving between her legs. He pushed aside her panties and stroked his fingers over her.

“Nick...”

The tension eased as pleasure coursed through her. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly what she knew he could give her, what they could give each other.

She reached for him, stroking her hands over his back and butt. She pulled him toward her as she lifted her hips. She needed him inside her—needed to feel one with him as she'd felt that night.

He pulled off her panties and dropped his boxers. Then he was there—his erection nudging against her. She parted her legs as he pushed gently inside her. She arched her hips, taking him deeper, and locked her legs around his waist.

“Careful,” he murmured, moving slowly as if he still feared he would hurt the baby.

But the baby was safe. Annalise was the one in danger—of falling even more deeply in love with Nick. “It's okay,” she assured him.

He tensed. “Just okay?”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Well...”

He withdrew.

She clutched at him. “Nick!”

He pushed back inside her.

She gripped him with her inner muscles, holding him deep inside her. But he pulled back again. And, teasing her, he stroked in and out.

The sensation built the tension, winding it so tightly that she couldn't get enough of him. She raked her nails lightly down his back and sank them into his butt.

And she rose up and nipped at his chin and his neck.

“Annalise...” He growled her name like a warning.

She didn't heed it. She couldn't listen to reason; she'd completely shut off the voice inside her head that had told her to be careful with Nick. She couldn't deny herself what she had always wanted: Nick.

As he continued to move inside her, the tension finally broke. Her body shuddered as she came. His name left her lips in a scream of pleasure.

He tensed, and then his body shuddered as he filled her. He rolled so that she sprawled across his chest. Her head settled between his neck and uninjured shoulder. Feeling at home and safe in his arms, her eyes immediately drifted closed.

* * *

She didn't know how long she slept. When she awakened, her head was on a pillow. Blankets had been pulled over her body, but she still felt cold without the heat of Nick's body. He was gone.

She tensed as she remembered how she had felt the last time she'd awakened alone after making love with him. Then, as now, she wondered if it had really happened at all or if she'd only dreamed it. But their baby shifted inside her, and she knew it had happened.

And when, like last time, she'd accepted that it had happened and he'd left before she awakened, humiliation washed over her. Why did she keep throwing herself at Nick only to have him run away?

He might have wanted her. One night. Now two...

But he didn't love her. And he probably never would.

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to learn to protect herself. Not from the men trying to abduct her. She had to learn to protect herself from Nick. He was the one who would hurt her the most. Who already had.

But then she felt real pain. It shot through her stomach like a bullet or a knife—so sudden and sharp that she lost her breath at the intensity of it.

What was happening? What was wrong?

Her stomach tightened. As she placed her palms over it, she felt the hardness of it. Something was wrong—with her baby.

The pain came back—radiating throughout her. And she screamed. “Nick!”

There was no movement inside the condo. Where was he? Where had he gone?

She needed his help—needed him to help her save the baby before it was too late. Before they lost him or her...

* * *

Penny jerked awake as if someone had called her name. She'd done that when the kids were little. Even before they'd called out for her, she'd known they needed her. Somebody needed her now.

She flipped on the lamp beside the bed. It illuminated the darkness in a circle. On the pedestal table she'd painted a pale blue was her cell phone. She picked it up and stared at it. But the screen stayed dark.

No one was calling her. The kids were older now. They tried to handle things on their own. But ultimately they would reach out to her. They would call her.

Unless it was Nick who needed her. He hadn't yet learned to reach out, to trust that he would get assistance when he needed it. She could only hope that he would learn...before it was too late for anyone to help him.

Chapter 11

N
ick had thought he'd heard something. Or at least, that was the excuse he'd given himself to leave Annalise lying alone in the bed in which they'd just made love. Like last time, their intimacy had humbled him and scared the hell out of him.

He'd never felt like that—as if he'd belonged anywhere—until he'd been inside her, their bodies joined. Her heart had beaten in sync with his until she'd fallen asleep. While hers had slowed, his had continued to beat fast.

And despite the release he'd found buried deep inside her, the tension hadn't left his body. So maybe he'd only imagined that he had heard something. But he'd eased her onto the pillow and covered her up.

Then he'd dressed quickly and grabbed up his weapon. He hadn't found anything amiss inside the condo. The open living room, dining and kitchen area had been undisturbed. The bedrooms off the other side of the condo had been empty. So maybe the noise had come from the other side of the back door. It didn't open onto an alley. It opened onto the unconverted part of the warehouse. Security back there wasn't as high-tech as inside the condo.

When he stepped inside, he didn't understand why it wasn't wired with alarms, too. If someone was going to break in, they probably would have wanted to get inside Milek's studio. Penny had mentioned that the younger Kozminski brother painted. She had even pointed out the portrait he'd done years ago, which hung on the wall of her office at the White Wedding Chapel.

But Nick didn't realize how talented or prolific Milek was until he saw all the canvases. They leaned against the walls, stacked upon each other. So many canvases. Only one stood by itself. The canvas too big for an easel, it leaned against a couple of metal barrels in the middle of the room. Paint spattered the cement floor all around it.

Intrigued, Nick walked up to it. And his breath caught at the realism of it. It wasn't just the vibrancy of the paint. It was the vibrancy of the people in the portrait. Milek had caught all of them as they were. Penny sat in the middle like the matriarch she was. She ruled her family with love, though, and it radiated from her—from the warmth in her brown eyes.

The whole portrait radiated warmth and love. Love among mother and sons and daughter. Love between spouses like Logan and Stacy. Even Stacy's brothers had been included in the portrait with their wives. And Nick was there.

Why had she had Milek include him?

He had no doubt that the portrait was being painted at Penny's request. She would have wanted it because her family had expanded. Nick could understand her wanting her daughters-in-law and grandchildren in the portrait. He could even understand her including the Kozminskis; they had been part of her life for a long time—ever since their father had gone to prison for murdering his.

But him...

Nikki wouldn't be happy about his inclusion. Like him, she was alone in the portrait—at the other end of the family from where he was. Keeping them apart had been no accident. Despite being surrounded by all that family, Nick looked alone.

He looked like something was missing. Love.

And Annalise. She should have been in the portrait, too. And Gage. They were his family. They always had been. And now, with the baby she carried, Annalise and he were starting their own family.

Then he heard a noise. This time he had no doubt it was real. And he had no mistake about what it was: Annalise's scream.

He had left her alone in the condo and vulnerable to whoever might have broken in while he'd been distracted. He should have known—no place was impenetrable. And nowhere was safe enough for Annalise. Her scream chilled his blood. She sounded more terrified than he'd ever heard her.

* * *

In Afghanistan, Gage had learned to rely on his instincts. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have survived even the first time he'd been deployed. And he certainly wouldn't have survived the last.

His instincts had told him that something wasn't right with Nick and Annalise. He hadn't realized how serious the situation was until he learned she was at the hospital. Would Nick have even told him if Gage hadn't called him?

And the only damn reason Gage had called was that he'd come back to Nick's place and found it had been broken into—again. The door had hung from its damaged hinges. And it had looked as if there had been a struggle in the hallway. There was a body-sized dent in the drywall and droplets of blood on the floor.

Gage had called because he'd been worried.

And Nick had made him even more worried when he replied, “We're at River City Memorial...”

That had been just minutes ago. But those minutes had felt like hours while Gage had driven over to the hospital and parked in the underground garage. It hadn't helped that security had stopped him at the door. They'd frisked him like he would have searched a perp. Apparently, there'd been some trouble there recently and River City PD had advised the security staff to be extra vigilant.

Fortunately Gage had left his gun in his glove box, or they might not have let him into the ER waiting room. The minute he stepped inside, he looked for Nick. But he was probably hurt, too.

Because he wouldn't have let anyone get to Annalise without one hell of a fight. As much as he'd complained about her pestering him, Nick had always had a soft spot for her, something most people probably didn't even realize he had. He always acted so damn tough.

The waiting room overflowed with Paynes—all tall guys with black hair and blue eyes. He walked up to the one who looked the least surprised to see him and asked Logan, “Where are they?”

“I'm here,” Nick said as he stepped away from the others.

Hell, even as long as he'd known him, Gage had still mistaken him for one of the others—for one of his half brothers. Nick looked that much like the others.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Nick nodded. But he didn't look okay. He looked like hell, his jaw shadowed with stubble and what looked to be the beginning of a bruise. The corner of a ragged-looking bandage stuck out of the collar of his T-shirt.

But knowing Nick as well as he did, he understood those injuries were nothing to him.

“What about Annalise?” he asked.

“The doctor's checking her out,” Nick replied.

“What the hell's going on?” Gage asked. “Your place has been ransacked again. Everything's all broken up. Was she hurt there?”

And if so, it was Gage's fault—because she had come to River City looking for him. The minute he'd gotten back to the US, he should have gone to see her, should have assured her that he was all right. Sure, he hadn't been, not totally. But at least he'd been alive.

And she wouldn't be in danger now.

Nick shook his head. “She wasn't hurt there.”

“But she was hurt.”

“Someone carjacked her yesterday,” Cooper said. With his close-cropped hair, the former Marine looked the most like Nick. They were even about the same age. Their dad must have been some son of a bitch to get two women pregnant at nearly the same time.

Of course, they didn't talk about him like that. At least, the Paynes didn't. They acted like the dead cop had been a saint. But that was how people acted after someone died; they remembered only the good things.

Was that how everyone had acted when they'd thought he was dead? Had they remembered only his good qualities? Had
she
? Not his sister but that other woman, the one who'd ripped out his heart before he'd reenlisted?

But at the moment, as anger coursed through him, he couldn't recall any of his good qualities.

“Yesterday?” Clenching his fists, he stepped closer to Nick. “She was hurt yesterday and you didn't tell me?”

“I didn't.”

He slapped his palm against Nick's chest and pushed him back. “You answered her phone and told me she was in the kitchen cooking. And she was here—in the emergency room. You lied to me!”

“She wasn't in the hospital yesterday,” Nick said. “At least, not when you called.”

But she had been.

Gage's stomach churned. He felt sick, so sick at the thought of his sweet sister injured. “What's wrong with her?”

Cooper was the one who stepped up to answer again. “She got a concussion during the carjacking.”

Gage's head pounded as he thought of it—of the dangers of a head injury. “She shouldn't have left the hospital, then.” He pushed Nick back again. “You shouldn't have let her leave!”

“You know Annalise.”

Yes, he knew his sister. She was as stubborn as she was sweet. And she was far stronger than he or Nick had ever given her credit for being. So, yeah, she would have put up a fight to leave. But if he'd been there, he would have made sure that she stayed—that she wasn't put in any danger.

“I want to see her!” Gage said. “I need to see her. Now!” He had to make certain his baby sister was all right. “Where is she?” He didn't wait for any of them to reply, though. He headed toward the doors marked No Admittance.

Before he could push open the doors, a strong hand caught his arm and yanked him back. “No, Gage.”

He turned back to Nick, and his anger bubbled, threatening to boil over as his skin and even his blood heated from the intensity of it. He couldn't remember feeling like this—actually
feeling
—in a long time. “No?”

“You need to calm down,” Nick said. “You're only going to upset her if you go in acting like this.”

He wasn't acting. He was pissed. More pissed than he could remember being in a good long while.

“She's in the hospital,” Gage said. “She must already be upset.”

“Yes,” Nick agreed. “And she can't get any more upset. It won't be good for her or for...”

There it was again in Nick's voice—that caution, that evasiveness. Gage narrowed his eyes and studied his old friend's face. “For
what
, Nick?”

That telltale muscle twitched in Nick's cheek. And it looked as if he made an effort to unclench his jaw before he finally replied, “For the baby.”

Shock gripped Gage. He had seen and done things he'd never imagined he would see or do. But he had never been as shocked as he was now. “What baby?” he asked, his voice cracking with the emotions pummeling him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your sister's pregnant,” Nick said. “That's why she's here. She thought she was going into early labor.”

“How early?” Gage asked. Then he added the better question. “How far along is she?”

“Twenty-four weeks,” Nick replied with an almost ominous certainty. Maybe he knew because Annalise had told him or he'd overheard the doctor.

Or maybe...

He shook his head. No. Not Nick.

He wouldn't have crossed that line, not with Annalise.

No, some other guy had to have gotten her pregnant. Gage wasn't naive enough to think his sister was a total innocent. Once she'd hit her teens, she'd started dating. Yet she'd never gotten serious about anyone before—because of her stupid, stubborn crush on Nick.

But Gage had been gone a long time. She must have met someone while he was missing. He glanced around the waiting room. He still saw only Paynes. So where the hell was the baby's father? He had damn well better be next to her bed, holding her hand.

His gaze returned to Nick. And that sick feeling churned his stomach again.

The answer was on Nick's face: the guilt, the regret.

Gage shook his head. “No.”

“It's my fault,” Nick said. “It's all my fault...”

Since Gage heard she was in the hospital, he hadn't had much of a hold on his temper, but whatever control he had totally snapped. And he swung. His fist slammed right into Nick's clenched jaw. Pain coursed through Gage's hand from his knuckles to his wrist. Nick—who had killer reflexes—hadn't even ducked. He barely stumbled back.

After shaking off the stinging in his hand, Gage clenched his fist again and wound up to swing once more. But before he could connect with Nick—who stood straight again and ready for another blow—someone stepped between them. Strong hands shoved Gage back.

“You want to fight?” a deep voice asked.

Gage blinked to clear his vision, but he was so angry he was literally seeing red. The man looked like Nick—enough like Nick that he swung. But his fist didn't connect. It was blocked. And he took a blow—to his stomach. He doubled over as pain radiated throughout his body. The pain wasn't from the blow itself but from the old injuries it aggravated: the broken ribs, the bruised organs.

He coughed and choked but came up swinging—for Nick. A hand caught his fist and held it. Again it wasn't Nick but Cooper, who'd stepped between them, who was trying to fight Nick's battle.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gage asked.

“Nick took a bullet to his shoulder yesterday,” Cooper said. “He's in no shape to fight. You want to fight? You fight with me.”

“I don't have a beef with you.”

“Sometimes a soldier doesn't need a beef,” Cooper said. “Sometimes he just needs to fight.”

Was that Gage's issue? Had he just been itching for a fight?

No. His sister was in the hospital—pregnant and injured—and Nick had willingly taken the blame for her being in that situation.

No. He didn't want to fight just anyone; he wanted to fight Nick until his old friend was as hurt as Annalise was.

* * *

Annalise hurt, but it was only her pride. She had made such a fool of herself—with the screaming, with the hysteria—over Braxton Hicks contractions. Most pregnant women experienced them. They weren't even real contractions, just a dress rehearsal for the real thing.

“The baby is fine,” the doctor assured her. He pointed toward the monitor showing her baby was curled up, sleeping. Annalise should have been, too. But she'd awoken in such a panic. That had had more to do with Nick being gone than the contractions, though.