Warrior (First to Fight #1)(41)

Her face is abnormally gray and there are shadows underneath her eyes. My fingers twitch at the sight, though hell if I know what I can do to make it better. What I do know is that I won’t be leaving her side, no matter how much she bitches about it.

She relaxes against my thigh and pulls my hand away. “I’m too tired to argue with you right now.”

“Probably smart, because you won’t win.”

“Says the man picking on a woman when she’s down,” she retorts, curling into my legs. Every possessive male part of me wants to keep her there, where I know she’s safe.

“Relax. I’ll listen out for the little guy. You need a nap.”

She shakes her head against me. “No, I can’t. He needs a careful eye after surgery, especially cause of the past couple of days.”

“I’m here, I’m going to be here. We both might as well get used to it.”

Her lids flutter against her cheeks. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay with him?”

“I’ll be fine, Liv. I was only seventeen when the twins were born. I can diaper like a pro.”

“He’s not a normal baby, you have to be careful with him,” she says in between yawns.

“He’s a Hart, isn’t he? I’m sure he’s tougher than you think.”

“If he seems like he’s having trouble breathing or he—”

“Livvie, I’m trained in combat medicine. I can handle whatever happens. Now turn off that brain of yours and go to sleep so you can argue with me later.”

She mumbles something in response and drifts off a few minutes later.

When she’s nothing more than dead weight on top of me, I carefully shift out from underneath her and cover her with a blanket. I put the T.V. on a station that’s guaranteed not to have any coverage about the shooting and make sure the volume is on low. I check on Cole and note he’s still asleep. Even though I’ve got shit to do, I can’t help but stare at him for a while as he sleeps.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I step out of the room so I don’t wake up the kid. I note Logan’s name with a tense sort of anticipation. I almost hope he has a name for me. A thick, black rage has been building underneath my skin since I saw Olivia on the news. I just need one reason to let it loose.

“Better have news for me,” I answer. Livvie’s dog is whining at the back door when I make it back downstairs so I let him out.

“Depends on what you consider news.”

“Don’t f*ck with me, man.”

“What do you know about Olivia’s boyfriend Chad?”

I think back to my limited set of interactions with the guy. “Seemed kind of pissed when he found me with my hands all over his date. Why?”

“A couple of people mentioned that he was spewing shit about Olivia this weekend. He has a vehicle that matches the description of the one at the scene. Just wanted to give you a heads up that we’ll be bringing him in for questioning as a precaution.”

“Appreciate it. He didn’t strike me as the type for retaliation and I’d be shocked if he could tell one end of a gun from the other. I don’t think he’s your guy.”

“I’ll keep an eye out and let you know if anything comes from the interview.”

“Thanks, man. You ever come up with anything from the break-in?”

“Went cold, not much to go on. Couple people saw a male, average height, average build in the neighborhood, but no one could I.D. the guy. We’ve got a couple prints, but nothing that matches anything in our database. You double check her security? The locks?”

“Yes, Dad. I’m staying for a while until this cools down. Make sure they’re safe.”

Logan lets out a low whistle. “I bet she loved that.”

I chuckle, my eyes automatically going back to her slumbering form on the couch. “Nah, not too much.”

“She ever hear anything about her family?”

“What do you mean?”

“She asked me a while back to look into her parents. Probably forgot with all that’s been going on. Lemme know if she needs anything, okay?”

“Will do. Thanks for checking in. Let me know if that Chad guy has anything.”

“Right. Later.”

I spend the next half hour messing with her security system and checking on all the entrances and exits. I spot the grooves in the window where the bastard must have broken in as I’m looking around. I can’t tell if the resulting burn in my stomach is anger or shame. I can’t help but feel like I should have been here. Strike one. I shouldn’t have turned her away after I got out of the Marines. Strike two. Hell if I’m going to let there be a strike three.

The monitor squawks so I jog upstairs feeling like I’m all thumbs. I hadn’t been lying when I said I was used to kids. The twins practically made me their bitch when they were born, but this kid is different. This kid is mine.

Fuck if that isn’t equal parts amazing and terrifying.

He stares up at me and reaches out his hands. I lift him up and cradle him awkwardly in my arms. The smell coming from his little butt ranks up there with the smell of uniforms and gear after a long stint in the field. I take him to the table in the corner and try to remember how the hell you change a diaper. If I could direct million-dollar aircraft, I can handle this.