Page 23 of The First Cut
As good-looking as he is, it doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes are empty. I get the distinct feeling he could slit my throat as easily as he could hold my hand, and the only thing keeping him leashed is the cut on his back.
“Lola,” he says, his gaze moving to my swollen eye.
“Hello, Hannibal,” I reply softly.
Something flickers across his face—something that almost looks like curiosity. But it’s gone in a moment, so I can’t be sure. Not that it matters. As long as he doesn’t hurt my baby, I couldn’t care less if he was the Antichrist.
“I hear you need to be checked out. Are you okay with just me, or would you like Nevaeh in the room too?”
Nevaeh might’ve been nice enough, but I don’t want her in the exam room with me. “I’m fine with it just being you,” I say, surprising them both.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind, honest,” Nevaeh offers.
I smile, though it feels brittle as hell. I’m sure she’d love to come in so she can tell Havoc everything she sees and hears. But this is my body, dammit, and my baby, and I don’t want my ex’s woman anywhere near either right now.
“No, I’m good. But thank you.”
She looks between me and Hannibal, then shrugs. “Okay.”
Hannibal motions to the open door closest to us, so I head through it and stop near a bed that looks just like one you’d find in a doctor’s office. The door clicks shut behind me, and I turn to face Hannibal.
“You have anything on under that sweatshirt?”
I swallow. “A tank top.”
“Take the sweatshirt off. You can leave the tank top on.”
“Look, this isn’t really necessary.”
He ignores me and pulls a machine over to the bed. That’s when I realize it’s an ultrasound machine.
“Let’s get a look at your baby.”
I hesitate, knowing it’ll lead to more questions. Driller refuses to let me go to my prenatal appointments without him, even though he just sits out in the waiting room. He’s missed thelast two appointments, which means I have too. I’m desperate to see my boy again.
I take off my hat and place it on the chair by the door, then shrug out of my sweatshirt and lay it with my hat. Taking a deep breath, I turn and walk back to the bed, wondering how the heck I’m supposed to get up on it. Why the hell do they make these things so damn tall?
I gasp when Hannibal moves up behind me and his hands land on my hips. Before I can say anything, he picks me up and sits me on the bed. “Lay back and get comfortable.”
I do as he says, still kinda in shock. When his hands touch the hem of my tank, I grip the edge of the bed.
“Just need to move this out of the way,” he murmurs, sliding it up to just under my boobs—boobs I didn’t bother covering with a bra.
I look away, feeling my cheeks heat. When his hands move to the fly of my jeans, I reach out to stop him. He looks at me, and something in his eyes makes me loosen my grip—but he doesn’t loosen his. Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttons my fly and lowers the zipper, exposing my belly completely.
My breathing turns shallow, my shock bleeding into fear. I don’t think he’s here to hurt me, but I already know I suck at reading people.
“Now, this will be cold.”
I turn my head when I realize he’s not touching me anymore. Instead, he squirts some gel directly onto my stomach, making me flinch. Picking up the wand, he gently presses it into the gel and starts moving it around, spreading it over my bump before pressing more firmly. My eyes flick to the screen as the rhythmic thudding of my baby’s heartbeat fills the room. I relax a little, the steady beat the most soothing sound in the world.
“This isn’t my area, but from what I can tell, everything looks good. Your son looks healthy. Shit—I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”
“It’s okay. I know I’m having a boy. Driller doesn’t, though, so please don’t say anything.”
He doesn’t ask me why. He just reaches over and wipes the gel from my stomach. “There anything else you want me to check?”
His eyes move over my bruises, but I shake my head. “No. I just wanted to see that my baby was okay.”
