Page 62 of Finish Line
It’s been a long and difficult couple of weeks. Julio eventually told me how he was an undercover cop and had been for five years. He was working from the inside, trying to take down the cartel. With most of the cartel members in that building dead, the cops really had nothing left to go off of. All the security cameras had been tampered with prior to any of the Savage Menaces coming into the building.
The cops were able to help all the women who were left behind. It turns out they were all trafficked. They had all been bought by Miguel, who also had plans to sell them if the price was right. Surprisingly, it’s an operation the cartel had going for the past ten years. They were just now starting to branch out, with Kevin’s help, but that has since been shut down.
Bull was dangerously close to death that night. Smalls and Ratchet got him to the hospital just in time. They were able to pay off a surgeon and some nurses not to report the gunshot wound. The surgeon said Bull’s a lucky man who must have had a very special guardian angel looking out for him. I like to think it was his wife, Cami. They said if the bullet had hit a couple inches lower, he would have died.
Against the doctor’s wishes, Bull only spent two days in the hospital. Now he’s home at the clubhouse resting. Buzz got friendly with one of Bull’s nurses, Annie, so she’s been at the clubhouse every day to bring any needed supplies and check on him. Being I was a nurse before, I keep a close eye on him. To the point where I’m up multiple times a night to make sure his vitals are still strong. He’s a stubborn man, but I know he loves me fawning over him twenty-four seven. In all honesty, he’s healing fairly quick. He’s taken such good care of his body over the years and it’s paying off.
Right now, I’m at the doctor’s office for a check-up. After what happened with Kevin, I wanted to make sure everything is okay, and he didn’t give me anything. I also haven’t been feeling well. I’m guessing it’s the stress of everything that happened just taking a toll on me. But better to get checked out to be sure.
Knock, knock.
The door to the exam room opens and my doctor, Dr. Webster, walks in.
“Hi, Athena. How are you feeling today?” she asks.
“A bit more tired than usual, but okay,” I tell her.
“That’s good to hear, considering you’re seven weeks pregnant,” she says.
“Wh-what did you say?” If I weren’t already sitting, I would have fainted. My first thought is Kevin. “Wait, you said I’m seven weeks, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. We can get an ultrasound done and you could hear the baby’s heartbeat,” she informs me.
Seven weeks. Everything with Kevin had happened two weeks ago, which means . . .
“Oh, thank God,” I whisper. The baby is Bull’s. I lift my eyes to the doctor. “I would love that.”
“Fantastic! Give me a few minutes and I’ll go grab it.” She smiles and walks out of the room.
“Holy shit,” I mutter to myself, smiling. “Holy shit, I’m pregnant.”
I bring my hands to my stomach, grinning from ear to ear. With one thought, my smile falls. What if Kevin forcing himself on me hurt the baby?
“Knock, knock,” Dr. Webster says as she opens the door. She pulls the ultrasound machine in. “Are you ready to see your baby bean?”
“I’m so ready,” I reply with a smile.
“Okay, go ahead and fold the edge of your pants down and lift your shirt just a little,” she instructs me. I do as she says and she grabs a tube of some kind of gel. “This might be a little cold.”
She squirts the gel on my belly and grabs the wand, rubbing it against my stomach. An image pops up on the screen. At first, all I can make out is a grey blob. Dr. Webster hits a few buttons and my eyes go wide.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
Tears well in my eyes. “Is th . . . is that its heartbeat?”
“It is.” She smiles at me. She does something with the ultrasound and a circle appears on the screen around a little bean shape. “And this is your baby.”
“Oh my God.” Tears escape my eyes and roll down my cheeks.
“Everything looks and sounds perfect. We won’t be able to tell the sex until you’re about twenty weeks,” she tells me.
“Can I . . . record the heartbeat for my boyfriend?” I ask her, not able to take my eyes off the screen.
“Of course you can,” she replies.
I pick up my phone and open the camera app, switching it to video. Dr. Webster turns the volume up on the ultrasound so I can record it. I hold my phone up to the screen and record for thirty seconds. Once I set my phone down, she turns the volume back down and hits a couple of buttons. She sets the wand down and picks up a strip of pictures.
“These are for you to keep as well.” She hands me the sonogram pictures. “Before you leave, you can make an appointment for a month from now.”
