Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I… I” I can’t get the words out.
I want to tell them I love them.
I want to tell them how grateful I am for them.
But I don’t get any of the words out as darkness drags me away from the only people who care for me.
DAMIAN
“Cara!” Her face is ghostly white. I feel her body go limp beneath my hands. “Fuck, did you reach them?” I yell at Annie.
“They’re coming,” Annie sobs. Sitting down next to Cara, she brushes the hair away from Cara’s face. “It’s going to be okay, honey,” she keeps saying through the sobs wracking her.
I don’t dare lift my hands from the wound.
Fuck, she’s losing too much blood.
I lower my chin to my chest and close my eyes as the woman who has finally stirred something inside my heart bleeds to death.
Hold on, baby.
Don’t leave me.
Minutes drag by agonizingly slowly as her blood seeps through my fingers. With every precious second slipping away, the brutal hold on my heart tightens.
Finally, when I hear the sirens outside, I want to cry with relief but only manage a shuddering breath.
Williams comes in first, followed by the paramedics. I only move back when the one paramedic starts nudging my hands away from the wound.
“Don’t let her die,” I growl at the man.
Climbing to my feet, I watch as they work on Cara. When they wheel her out to the ambulance, Williams grabs hold of my arm.
“Who are you?” he asks, and I can see the anger burning in his eyes.
“Damian Weston.” I yank my arm free from his hold and walk out of the house. “I’m going with my wife. You can find me at the hospital.”
Chapter 20
CARA
When I open my eyes, I see white. White walls, white sheets, there’s just too much white.
“Where am I?” I croak, but there’s no one to answer me.
The fogginess starts to clear, and I begin to remember the shooting.
Annie. Damian. Are they okay?
Gingerly I move into a sitting position. Pain tears through my abdomen as I grab hold of the IV stand next to the bed. Slowly, I force myself to stand, and using the IV as a crutch, I stumble out of the room.
“Mrs. Weston!” someone gasps. “You shouldn’t be up.” A nurse comes at me, her face tight with worry. “You’re so pale,” I hear panicked voices join hers, and I see a blur of two figures moving toward me before everything goes dark again.
Hot tears are running into my hair as I wake up. There’s an excruciating, piercing pain in my abdomen. I try to move so I can curl up, but the pain intensifies, and I whimper.
“Cara?” A pair of strong hands frame my face, and prying my eyes open, I see Damian. He looks awful, worse than before. “Cara,” he says again.
“It hurts,” I croak. I don’t even have the strength to lift my hands.
“I’ll get you something for the pain.” There’s promise in his voice, and it already makes me feel better.
I hear a beeping start above my head, then Damian talks to someone, but I don’t make out the words as I drift off to sleep again.
The next time I wake up, Damian’s sitting on the side of the bed, staring down at me.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” he whispers as he brushes his fingers through my hair.
“Alive.” It’s the only word I can think of. “Annie? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She went home but said she’d be back soon,” he explains.
For a moment, we stare at each other as the horrid incident plays out in my head.
They found me.
Again.
I’ll never be safe.
Then Damian’s features turn tense, and I figure this is where he lays into me for running into the house to help Annie.
“Cara.” Damian leans closer, bracing his hands on either side of my head. Too late do I realize he’s trying to give me strength as he says, “The bullet hit low.” He pauses as if he’s waiting for me to take it in. “The bullet hit…” He takes a breath, and it really sounds like he can’t find the words.
I stare at him with confusion.
“There was a lot of damage. You were out of it for a couple of days,” he continues, his voice strained. I can see it’s hard for him to keep his eyes locked on mine. “The baby is gone.”
Gone?
“Oh.”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, and then devastation plows through me.
My baby’s dead?
“I don’t…” The words trail away as the full impact of what he just said hits hard. “The baby… my baby.” My voice grows thick with tears. “I lost my baby?” My voice cracks with emotions I wasn’t expecting to feel.
I lost my baby.
I didn’t even have a chance to decide whether I wanted a baby. It’s just another decision forced on me.