Be My Hero (Forbidden Men #3)(54)

He was going to try to hurt my baby. I didn't feel the pain at first; I was too scared for Skylar and what Alec was trying to do to her. But then he punched me in the stomach.

I think I kept screaming. I'm not sure. The sound echoed through my ears as I tried to curl my arms around myself and protect my daughter. But he held me by the neck, pinning me in place, loose enough that I could continue to scream, yet tight enough I couldn't get away. I could barely breathe, let alone shield my stomach. My legs flailed, but the splitting feeling inside me was so severe it was hard to concentrate on much of anything past each gushing slice.

Just as abruptly as he attacked, Alec stopped. The pressure on my throat vanished, and I crumpled to the floor. I couldn't stop myself, couldn't catch my fall, could barely gasp for air. It was as if I had no control over my own limbs. I landed with a jarring thud, which hurt even more. But at least the assault was over.

I thought maybe Alec had come to his senses and backed off.

But then he said, "What the—" just before an oof and the thud of something cracking against bone echoed throughout the garage. A choked groan followed.

"You just messed with the wrong girl, pal," someone growled, his voice pissed and male.

From inside my shell of agony, muted sounds of fists against flesh followed, along with shouting and threats. I knew someone was defending me, but at the moment I didn't care. I was too busy trying not to die on the floor. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I cradled my stomach.

Skylar wasn't moving. She always wiggled around or jumped when something startled her.

Why wasn't she moving?

"No," I croaked and rested my cheek on the floor, squeezing my eyes tight as my abdomen felt like it was exploding and tearing apart from the inside.

More shouting filled the garage. I think I finally heard Mason's voice join the melee, but suddenly Reese was with me, her hand on my shoulder and her panicked voice in my ear. "E.? Eva! Can you hear me?"

I tried to nod, or answer, or even blink, but all I could manage was a pained gasp when another round of horror constricted my abdomen.

"E.?" Reese tried again, her voice trembling. "What happened? Are you okay? Oh my God. Mason. She's hurt bad."

The agony-filled wave passed, leaving a low, aching throb. I drew in a breath and tried to talk again. "I think I'm bleeding." My cramped fingers somehow managed to uncurl enough for me to try to look down between my legs, because I could feel a trickle. I wanted to make sure it wasn't blood, but I couldn't see past the baby bump.

Another lightning bolt of pain arched across my belly. I curled in around my baby.

"No! No, no, no." One of the male voices turned hoarse as he crouched down beside me. I thought it was Mason until he croaked, "Tinker Bell?" and then I realized it was Pick.

As warm, tender arms enfolded me, I opened my lashes and looked up into a pair of devastated brown eyes. "Pick?"

He scooped me against his chest. He'd finally made it. Just in time.

He kissed my forehead. "Hey, beautiful. You want to take a ride with me? I got a real fast car, and we can get you taken care of in no time."

For a moment, I was confused. Why was he talking about cars and rides when it felt as if everything inside me was splitting apart and my baby was in trouble? But then I understood what he meant. Hospital.

That's when I knew it was bad. Maybe if he'd sounded as cool and collected as I'd always heard him, I could've stayed calm. But he sounded scared, so I got scared.

What if . . . what if Skylar didn't . . . make it? What if Alec had succeeded in . . . ?

Too horrific.

I sobbed out a moan and buried my face in Pick's shirt, my fingers clutching fistfuls. I was so grateful he was here with me.

"It hurts," I told him. It wouldn't hurt so bad if Skylar was okay, would it? Something had to be wrong.

Something was wrong with my baby.

"I know, baby. I know." Crooning, Pick pulled me closer and stood.

Nausea filled me as another band of pain tightened around my abdomen. I tried the breathing technique I'd used when my father had brutalized me. Long, even breaths. But I couldn't seem to calm down enough to stop the fast, shallow pants. I thought I was going to vomit when I was suddenly sky-born and lifted off the ground. Oh, God. Vertigo made my head swim and my stomach convulse.

"Well?" Pick's voice barked. No clue who he was talking to. "Let's get her to the hospital."

I checked out for a minute, refusing to think about anything but his smell clouding my nose. It was hard to think anyway. So I let his scent, which reminded me of coconut tanning oil, make me miss the only thing from Florida that actually made me feel at home. A nice, warm sunny day. The beach. Sand and the soft spray of a wet ocean.

Pressed up against this man who smelled like my favorite kind of sunny day lulled me. I was home again.

People were talking around me, but I didn't really register what they were saying. To focus on words would be to focus on the pain and on what might be happening to the baby inside me.

I clenched my eyes shut and curled deeper into Pick. At that moment, he was the only thing in my universe.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," he murmured into my ear, his voice finally strong with confidence and reassurance.

I clung to that reassurance.

He jostled me enough to let me know we were sliding into a car, then I was nestled on his lap and his arms readjusted to hold me close. I couldn't stop squeezing the front of his shirt. Occasional starts of pain would breach my consciousness, but I was good at blocking unpleasant things. I'd done it for years.