Protecting Her Secrets (Mountain Men of Culver Springs #1)

Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Skylar

The good-looking doctor squirts cold gel on my lower belly then spreads it with the transducer. It feels all kinds of wrong to be excited about getting pictures of the baby while Jazzy is in surgery, fighting for her life. But I have to believe she’s strong enough to pull through.

“Okay, here we go.” He looks around before settling on one spot. “There’s your baby.”

I grab Walker’s hand, tears springing to my eyes. I went to the doctor to confirm my pregnancy, but I haven’t been back since. I know it’s important to have prenatal care, but Klutch sometimes had me followed. He said it was for my protection, but I knew it was so he could make sure I wasn’t messing around on him. It’s because of that I didn’t feel safe going to an appointment so soon after the first. If he found out about the baby, I’d be tied to him for the rest of my life.

“Oh my god, there’s their little arm.” I watch as the little peanut flails around.

“You don’t know the sex?” Dr. Rivera asks.

“No. This is my first ultrasound,” I say hesitantly.

“That’s okay. I know you’re in a unique situation. Like I said, I don’t have much experience in prenatal care, but I don’t see why I couldn’t get you through the rest of the pregnancy. Running labs and doing ultrasounds is easy enough. If something comes up, you’d have to travel to an OB, but as long as everything stays within normal range, I’d be willing to take you on as a patient.”

“I’d love that. Thank you.”

“You’ll also have to find somewhere to deliver.” He positions the transducer over another area. “Do you want to know the sex?”

“Yes. So much,” I say, looking up to a beaming Walker. He has formed a strong bond with the baby in such a short time. It’s more than I could have ever hoped for.

“See that little spot between the legs? That’s a penis.”

“We’re having a boy?” Walker asks in astonishment.

Tears spring to my eyes. “I can’t believe it.”

Walker kisses my temple, and if I’m not seeing things, his eyes are a little glossy too.

“Okay, let’s do this little guy’s first photoshoot, then we’ll get you out of here.”

An hour later, after being carried to the car from the clinic, I’m carried again into the house, where I’m delivered straight to the shower and washed from head to toe by Walker, minus my hair. Now, he has me in bed with every amenity possible. A tray next to me has some snacks and a glass of ice water, the remote is in my hand, there’s a stack of books he thought I might like to read within reach, and he somehow found a small bell for me to ring if I need anything else. I tried to tell him I could just text, but he wouldn’t listen.

The scent of freshly baked bread wafts through the air as I close my eyes, trying to absorb everything that has happened. Now that everything is calm and quiet, I have nothing to distract my mind from replaying the moment I looked up to see the barrel of a gun pointed right at me. I don’t remember anything after that, but that one image is enough to send shivers up my spine.

I wouldn’t say I was around violence growing up, but it was always there in the background—an unspoken threat the club sent out into the world whenever we were in public. People cowered and walked the other way, something Dad got off on. Not me, though. I wanted to be liked, not feared.

What happened today put me on the other side of things, and it was terrifying. I can’t believe Klutch is so mad, he wants me dead. Or can I? Pride is just as important as loyalty and honor in the club, and I wounded his pride. Not only that but ranking members from across the nation were there to witness it. My chest seizes, and my breaths come in short pants. I humiliated him in front of important people. What was I thinking?

I gasp, clutching my chest as my vision narrows. I might be able to delay the inevitable, but eventually, he’ll find me. How did I think this would end any other way? And I have a baby on the way. I was almost shot by the man who impregnated me or on his orders. What the fuck is my life?

Someone calls my name, but it’s muted and sounds so far away, I can barely hear. Warm hands cup my face, but I shake my head violently until they let go. My limbs tingle, and the pressure on my chest increases. It’s my fault Jazzy’s in surgery. She did nothing but be a friend, and what did I do? I got her shot.

Suddenly, I’m being moved up and then set back down on something hard. Strong arms wrap around me, and someone’s whispering in my ear. My racing thoughts slow so I can make out what’s being said—something about being strong and how much I’m loved. The tension in my body eases with the sweet words and the breath tickling my neck.

“Come back to me, sweetheart. It’s okay. I promise it’s okay. You’re not alone, and we will win this fight. It’s just a blip in the long, happy life we’ll have together,” Walker says against my neck. His beard scratches my skin, his arms hold me tight, and his words penetrate my racing thoughts. “There you go. Take some deep breaths.”

I feel his chest expand, and I inhale along with him, only letting it out when I feel him do the same. We do that over and over until I’m calm and back in my right mind.

“These panic attacks scare me. I feel so helpless seeing you like that,” he says.

I let my head fall back onto his shoulder as I sink into him. “I don’t like them either.”

“What brought it on?”

“Everything. I don’t want this to be my life. I can’t take it.”

“Yes, you can.” His words are strong, trying to convince me I am too, but I’m not. I’m weak. “Whether you believe this or not doesn’t stop it from being true. You’re a survivor. You’ve made it through hell and back. Now you have one more struggle to get through before it’s smooth sailing. Just you, me, the little boy you’re growing, and our little hobby farm.”

The picture he paints is perfect. I want it so badly. The problem is, this one last struggle is a big one, with life-threatening consequences should I make one misstep.

Walker kisses my neck. “I came up here to tell you some good news.”

“What?”

“Jazzy made it through surgery. The bullet chipped a bone. I can’t remember what it’s called—something with an I—and the fragments sliced into her liver and lung, but they’ll heal, and she’ll be okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She’s coming out of anesthesia now. Wilder had to leave to come back and deal with the shooting, but her parents promised to keep us informed.”

“I’m so relieved.”

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.” He rocks me gently, his strong arms banded around me, being strong for me until I can be strong for myself.

I wake up to a dark room, the glow from the TV the only light. After eating dinner, Walker talked me into taking one of the pain pills Dr. Rivera prescribed. He said it was safe for the baby, but I was still hesitant. That flew out the window when the numbing meds wore off, and I felt like I’d been hit in the head by a rock. Which I guess I kind of was.

Thinking I’d probably sleep until morning, I wonder what woke me. I sit up to find Walker no longer in bed. After a glance at my cell, I see it’s only nine at night. He probably wasn’t ready to go to bed after such a stressful day.

I pad out of bed and down the stairs, hoping to lure him back. I don’t want to be alone right now, not so soon after everything that happened. If he doesn’t want to call it a night yet, I’ll wait up with him.

The TV isn’t on when I reach the landing, and the house seems locked up for the night. Sprocket appears in the hallway and prances over to me.

“Your dad thought you wouldn’t leave my side. Guess we know who your favorite is.” I give him a scratch and go down the hall to look for my man.

Soft thudding comes from Walker’s workout room, and though I’m allergic to exercise, I sure do like to watch Walker when he does. I push open the cracked door and feel my skin heat when I see a bare chest glistening with sweat, low-slung basketball shorts showing a sculpted V, and his taped hands throwing punches at a boxing bag.

His body is a machine he keeps in perfect condition, even during his off-season, something I appreciate because goddamn, how lucky can a woman get? But my eyes narrow on him in concern—he’s pushing himself hard. There’s an anger behind those punches that I haven’t seen before, and I worry he’ll hurt himself.

Over and over, he throws hit after hit until he’s leaving red splatters on the white bag. I rush into the room, calling his name to break whatever trance he’s in. His head whips around, and the anger I saw in him when I first showed up in Culver Springs is back, only this time, there’s danger mixed in. For the first time, I truly believe he has what it takes to take on Klutch.

“Why?” I whisper but I don’t know if he can hear me over his panting breaths. He bends over, holding himself up with his hands on his thighs.

“You should be in bed, Skylar.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“What happened?” He chuckles, but there’s no humor behind it. “He tried to kill you. He nearly killed Jazzy. And there I was, just feet away, carrying shopping bags.”

“We had no reason to believe he’d show up.”

“I had enough of a reason to follow you around for the day.” His lip curls. “I was supposed to protect you, but instead, I almost lost you and the baby.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, approaching cautiously.

“The fuck it isn’t.”

“Earlier, when I was blaming myself, you told me the only person to blame is Klutch. Was that bullshit?”

“No. You did nothing wrong.”

“Exactly.” I reach out and take his hands in mine, inspecting his bloody knuckles. “Walker, you can’t punish yourself like this.”

He pulls out of my grasp and cups my cheeks. “I’ve never been more scared in all my life.”

I lean into his touch. “Me too.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Grinning, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his sweaty chest. “I’ll try my hardest not to.”

“I stink.”

“Yeah, you do.” He tries to peel me off him, but I hold tight. “But I like it. You smell alive.”

“Weirdo.”

“Will you come back to bed now?”

“Yeah, after I shower.”

“Can I shower with you?” I ask.

“As long as you promise no funny business. You have a head injury.”

“I promise. I just want to be close to you.”

Knowing all this comes from a place of fear, the best thing I can do for him is prove I’m okay. So, I spend the next twenty minutes washing him from head to toe, taking care of him after he took such good care of me. After, we tuck ourselves in bed, him on his back and me draped across his chest. I still have blood matted in my hair, and he has scabbed over knuckles.

We’re quite the pair.