Quinn II (Undaunted Men #2) (28 page)

November 28th

I’ve called him sporadically for the past two months, and he won’t answer the phone. He hates me. I know he does. Everyone said to give him time, that he'd come around, but he never did. The day he gave me the angel pendant and put it on me, I’ve never once removed it from around my neck. I go to bed at night clutching it in my hand as I pray for some miracle for us to be together again. I remember the words he spoke to me the first time he gave me this pendant verbatim, and that’s what makes this so hard. I believed every word that came out of his mouth.

“No matter what happens between us, I want you to remember this moment. I want you to look back on our first time making love together and know everything you felt was real, and from the depths of my very soul.”
 

Doesn’t he know I gave him my soul, too?! I know he felt the sting of feeling double-crossed, but I was hoping he could see through the fabricated lie. Quinn didn’t know I saved his life that day in the mountains. Vince threatened to kill him on the spot if I didn’t do what he said, and I hate myself every day for putting the look of hurt and betrayal in his eyes. It’s a look I will never forget, not as long as I’m alive.
 

My therapist said I have to forgive myself, because in actuality I did what was necessary to save his life. Vince was that crazy; he wouldn’t have hesitated to take drastic measures. There was no way I could allow that. Quinn didn’t know Vince like I did. He was a time bomb waiting to go off, and I always lived in fear of that.

Dr. Lanyard also said when you love someone to the extent I love Quinn, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself to save them. I’ve died a thousand times over since that day. I can’t escape the nightmare, and the only thing that is helping me live for the next day is knowing I have a part of Quinn growing inside of me.
 

December 5th

Connor and I have grown close, and even though our relationship is still a little strained at times, I find that I’ve grown to rely on him. On the days I don’t see him, he makes sure to call me without fail. He even painted the baby’s nursery for me in my little three-bedroom home. We chose a mint green neutral color, since I don't know if I'm having a boy or a girl. He's also gone shopping with me for every piece of baby furniture and clothing. I honestly don't know what I would've done without him during my darkest days as I was forced to come to terms with the fact that I'd have to move on without Quinn.
 

I’ve encouraged Connor to date women, and not burden himself with me all the time, but he’s not interested.
 
He's simply excited over the fact that he's going to be an uncle soon and can't wait to have an active part in helping me raise this baby. I believe him, and when we're together, we're able to laugh and joke around just like old times.
 

Connor has never again broached the subject of what happened with Quinn when they held him captive in that warehouse, and I could never find the strength within myself to ask him. It would make me relive the nightmare of all the evil things Vince did to me too. You just don't erase the verb ‘rape’ from your mind, and just because Vince drugged me into oblivion, it doesn't make the violation any less real or easier to deal with. What ever that drug Blyss was, I don’t ever want it again. There are times where I blame myself, thinking I could’ve stopped him, and other times I feel every bit the victim, dirty and disgusting. The one thing Connor did tell me for my own piece of mind was that as he was cleaning up the room from that fateful night, he had found a used condom. All I can figure is, knowing Vince, he would've protected himself first, and then had me tested for STDs because of sleeping with Quinn. That would be something very typical of Vince.
 

I drop the book with a thud onto my lap, and stare at the pages before me in shock. I feel something wet on my cheek and wipe it off, and when I look at my fingers to see what it is, I realize I’m crying. Holy fuck, she wasn’t lying to me. I have a child that is going to be born today.
How the hell did she get pregnant in the first place? I thought she had a medical condition and was on the pill.

I pick the book back up and quickly flip through all the pages, seeing the entire book is slammed full of entries, and every page screams out in agony except for when she mentions her baby – my baby, our baby. I wipe the tears from my eyes then lean over, placing my head in my hands. I think of the adversities she’s been through over the past year. She's had to deal with a man like Vince her entire life, who had manipulated her to the bitter end, including sexually violating her. I growl out loud in frustration just thinking about what that fucker did to her. He drugged her and she was with child. My child! He was planning on drugging her long term so he could keep her in line.
 

How in the hell did that bastard get tied into Blyss? Only a handful of people in this world knew about that drug. It had to have been Mitchell. He was working undercover with our unit at the time, but we didn’t know he was dirty until it was too late. Apparently, he’d been busy, working the streets with that drug. I’m going to need to make contact with Tony and make sure that shit has been disposed of. God only knows what would happen if that drug got replicated.

 
I had heard from Travis first hand what that drug could do, but never paid that much attention to it. I was too focused working behind the scenes with computers and technical shit to bring that operation down. It makes sense now how Lexi, under the influence, could look, sound, and act so lucid. It was a damn powerful aphrodisiac. She was saying all kinds of shit that drove nails into my coffin. I choke on my own breath just thinking about it.

Her entire life, he made Lexi question who she was as a person, and made her skittish of being able to trust other men. I know she wanted to trust me out on those trails, but she kept second-guessing me. Now looking back on those very actions of hers, I misinterpreted her behavior for wanting to double-cross me. When she finally handed over her heart to me, Vince intercepted and twisted shit all around.

After all this time of me rejecting her, and despite the knowledge I didn’t want her, it took nerves of steel for her to face me today. I had gotten her pregnant, and then kicked her to the curb like a piece of dog shit. She was conscious of the fact she would never have me in her life again, yet she still wanted to have my baby. Her love for me and my child is so strong she was willing to raise this baby on her own. I cannot even begin to fathom the amount of selflessness that resides in her soul. How is that kind of sacrifice even possible?

My shoulders shake as silent sobs wrack my body. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Maybe when I was nine? My mother truly did send me an angel straight from Heaven. How could I have not allowed her to explain her side today? How did I not see past the facade of her and Vince? I guess that is what deep seated bitterness does to people. It blinds them, preventing compassion and forgiveness from taking place. That is not how my mother raised me to be, yet I let it run rampant through my soul.

My heart rips apart at the thought of her suffering all those months, and having no one else to lean on except Connor, the very man who helped sabotage what we had. I should’ve been the one buying baby furniture and going to ultrasound appointments, not fucking Connor.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I’ve officially created a massive, fragmented mess beyond repair, and the stress I put her under today was the icing on the cake. She was under extra pressure trying to bring me the truth, and not only did I not want to hear it, I damn near had sex in front of her to push her out of my life once and for all. I’m the one to blame for sending her into preterm labor. I’m such a bastard. The contemptible things I said and the way I acted? Yeah, there is no amount of groveling that could erase those harsh words.

A soft hand touches my shoulder, and the gentlest of voices drifts over my head. “Sir? Are you okay?” I lift my head to see who it is. It’s one of the nurses, and she’s smiling sweetly at me as I nod my head. “You came in with Alexis, right?”

I shake myself from the dumbfounded daze I’m in and wipe away the tears. “Yeah, is she okay?” I rasp.

“She’s more than okay. You can relax now,” she gently says, thinking I’d been a wreck over Lexi’s labor.
If only.
Her smile grows warmer as she asks, “Are you the proud father?”

I take a deep breath and let her words sink in, and then I give her a small smile, grasping the magnitude of being a dad. “Yeah…yeah, I am the proud father.”
 

“Then I congratulate you on your healthy six pound two ounce baby girl.”

“Oh, God.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. Hearing that both my girls are healthy and well is one less thing for me to worry about. Now I can focus on us.
       

“You can go see them now.”
 

I stand up, ready to go see them, and then freeze. I’m not ready. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to Lexi, and I’m sure I am the last person she’d ever want to see. I catch a whiff of perfume, and dammit, it’s Victoria’s. I definitely can’t go crawling in on my hands and knees, begging for forgiveness, while still smelling like sex from this morning. I clear my throat, sheepishly smile, and ask for a huge favor, “Do you have a place here where I can grab a quick shower first?” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes, and she breaks easily.
 

Leaning my head against the thick wooden door of her hospital room, I stand, trying to gather my courage before I go in. My stomach is tied in knots. I hate this
feeling of uncertainty, and this must be how she felt knocking on my front door earlier today. I gently rap my knuckles against her door, and then I hear her small voice filter through. “Come in.” I slowly push the door open and walk into her room. Being the last person she thought she’d ever see again, she does a double-take, and then quickly turns away in disappointment.
 

She’s sitting upright in her hospital bed while breastfeeding her baby – my baby. The beauty of seeing
my baby
nuzzled against her bare skin, nursing from her full breast, stirs something deep within my soul. Unexplainable emotions run through me as I stand here mesmerized at the miracle of childbirth.
 

The heavy door behind me clicks shut, shaking me out of my trance. I nervously clear my throat before I tell her in a soft voice, “I brought you some flowers.” Although I realize it’s going to take more than a truckload of flowers to de-ice her heart, I still didn’t want to visit her empty-handed.

She won’t acknowledge me, so I cautiously walk the rest of the way into the room, feeling very uninvited. Her body language and the tenseness of her jaw tell me so. I place the floral arrangement on the stand beside her bed, and then I lay her purse down on a bench seat in front of the window, along with my jacket. I steal some courage from deep within and quietly pull up a chair to sit down beside her.
 

Her hair is in a loose ponytail, drifting over her shoulder. She looks more radiant than I remember her. My eyes drift to the baby, and my gaze locks on her miniature form, holding me spellbound. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and have a closer look. Her eyes are closed, her tiny little lips suckling away on her mother's breast, and her small hand is balled into a fist against Lexi's chest. I have no words for what I’m feeling right now.