Beat of the Heart (Runaway Train, #2)(78)

Finally, I was getting somewhere with Miss Stubborn. While that fact alone made me stoked as hell, I was also pumped that in just one week, I was going to find out if I was going to be the father of a son or daughter. Finding out Mia was pregnant was intense enough, but just the thought of knowing what it would be, was even more amazing.

With a smile, I replied, “Okay then. It’s a deal.”





I was in the Seventh ring of Hell, heading for the very fiery center. Just to be on the safe side, I had tried making my escape from Philly on Wednesday night after our show when a f*cking snowstorm blew through and closed the airport for twelve hours. When flights were finally up and running, I was left with a thirty minute window to get from Hartsfield Jackson in Atlanta to Mia’s doctors in North Fulton.

Bottom line: I was basically f*cked.

Rhys had flown in with me since he had left his car at the airport. As I cut my eyes over at him, I shook my head. “Dude, this is a f*cking Porsche. Quit driving it like a grandma.”

Rhys’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “Jesus, I’m doing ninety. Excuse me for wanting to live to see tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that’s all well and good, but if I’m late, I’m totally f*cked with Mia. She will do the emotional equivalent of cutting my balls off and roasting them over an open flame if I miss this. That or have her Sicilian family literally do me in.”

Rhys chuckled. “Listen man, you gotta calm down. Take a few cleansing breaths or some shit. I’m doing the best I can with the traffic.”

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to take his advice to calm down. Nervous energy hummed through my body. I couldn’t stop my legs from bouncing up and down in the cramped confines of the two seat convertible. I had my hands moving too as I smacked out a steady beat of our newest song Convicted on my jean clad thighs. As I stared down at the faded, holey pair of jeans, I grimaced. “Shit, I should have worn something nicer.”

“Huh?”

Motioning to the ratty jeans and my faded button down Polo shirt, I replied, “I look like a second rate hood rat, not an expectant father.”

“Daaaamn,” Rhys replied.

“What?” I demanded.

He cut his gaze over from whipping in and out of lanes to pin me with a wicked smile. “Mia has got you completely and totally spinning.”

“She does not.”

“Oh hell yes, she does.”

“This isn’t just about Mia.” When he continued scoffing at me, I shook my head. “This is bigger than the both of us now. I’ve got a kid on the way, and I gotta be the best damn father in the whole f*cking world.”

Rhys took one hand off the wheel to pat me reassuringly on the shoulder. “You’re going to be an amazing father. I have no doubt about that.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” He turned to me and grinned. “But you may wanna start working on your language.”

I grimaced. “Sh-I mean, shoot. I really do swear like a sailor.”

With a laugh, Rhys replied, “You’re probably okay. I mean, considering Bray is his dad and he’s surrounded by us, look all the f-bombs Jude grew up with, and he’s just fine.”

“Yeah, that was Jude, but how quickly you forget that after da-da and ma-ma, Melody managed to say shit and damn.”

“Oops, I forgot about that one.”

We were making good time when one glance in the rearview mirror sent my stomach plummeting. Blue lights from an Atlanta Police Department cruiser flashed all around us. “Fuuuuuuuuck!” One peek at the clock sent me pounding my fist against the dash. “I’m screwed.”

“Easy man,” Rhys replied as he eased into the emergency lane. My phone vibrated in my pocket. When I snatched it out, I had a new text from Mia.

Where the hell r u? I’m at the docs, and u r not here like u promised. Appt is in 10 min!

“Shit, shit, motherf*cking SHIT!” I yelled.

“What?” Rhys questioned he dug his wallet out of his pants.

“I just got a pre-rage text from Mia.”

“Uh-oh.”

We were interrupted by the cop knocking on the window. He appeared barely out of puberty. “License and registration please.”

Rhys quickly obliged by rolling down the window and thrusting out the two cards.

Before the cop glanced at them, he asked, “You do realize you were doing ninety-five miles an hour in a seventy zone?”

“Yes sir, and I do apologize for that. I normally obey the speeding laws, but you see, my friend has a very important appointment he needs to get to. Unfortunately, to appease him, I felt it necessary to break the law,” Rhys replied, oozing the charm and respectfulness he’d been raised with.

One glance at Rhys’s license, and the cop exclaimed, “Holy shit!”

“Excuse me officer?”

Leaning in the open window, the cop, whose badge read Carlisle, eyed Rhys. “Are you the Rhys McGowan, the guitarist for Runaway Train?”

Silently, I mouthed “FUCK YEAH!” and did a mental fist pump in my seat as I saw a glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel. I never shamelessly used my fame, but I sure as hell was going to do it today.

A million dollar grin spread across Rhys’s cheeks. “Why yes, I am.” Jerking his thumb at me, he replied, “And there’s AJ Resendiz.”