Page 131 of Merciless Desires

A tall, menacing, dark-haired man stands next to a beat-up car.

“Not necessary.” Staring at this fucker, I dig into my wallet and toss him a twenty. “Here. Now, get the fuck out of here before I get you fired.”

The guy drives off, and my brain catches up that I’m holding my daughter’s phone. I tuck it into my slacks, impressed Ana handed it over, since there are other ways to explain how she got here.

“Can you order me another ride to bring me…” Her eyes lift to mine and saying home sits on her lips. “Back to your house. Or hail me a cab and pay in advance.”

Swamped with mixed concerns, mostly that I don’t want her out of my sight, and leaving her home may have been a huge mistake, I say, “Come on.”

“Where?”

“The party.” I point to the paint studio across the street. “Do you have more important things to do?”

“You said I could go into labor any day and shouldn’t be out in public.” She crosses her arms, and I notice she’s wearing my Seahawk’s raincoat.

A feeling of possessiveness hits me, so fast, so strong, my arms itch to hold her again. Seeing her wrapped up in something that’s mine, and not just wrapped around a baby with my family’s bloodline, sends heat billowing through me. “It’s good that I’m a doctor. I can—”

“Dr. O’Rourke!” a voice shrieks from across the street. “Sophie’s not breathing!”

My heart stops, and my life flashes before my eyes. Forgetting about Anastasia, and not really caring if she takes off, I race back across the street.

Dodging cars flying down Fenwick like it’s a fucking racetrack, I burst through the doors of the paint studio. “Where is she?”

“She ate a cupcake and started choking.”

My world spins seeing her laid out on the floor, her little legs with those shiny shoes shaking. I tear into the knapsack and take out the EpiPen. But my hands are sweaty.

“Hurry, Dr. O’Rourke.” A woman sits on the floor, holding my daughter’s head.

I try to snap the tip off, but my palms keep slipping over and over. Tears cloud my vision as the panic grows. I’ve not had to give her a shot. Ever. We’ve been so careful. She’s been careful.

How could this happen?

“Give me that.” Anastasia grabs it from me and shoves me aside.

Feeling sick, I watch her roughly twist the top off and plunge the needle into Sophie’s leg like I told her. My daughter gasps back to life in a manner of seconds, then starts hysterically crying.

I drag her into my arms, crying along with her. Maybe even harder. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Daddy’s here.” I lose my balance from crouching and collapse to the floor, feeling bodies around me.

She’s coughing now, but she’s fucking breathing.

“Here.” Anastasia is there with a cup. “It’s water, sweetie.”

“Thank you.” I take it from her. “Sophie, honey. Open your eyes and take a sip of water.”

Shaking, with tears streaming down her little face, Sophie’s mouth tips open as she sucks down the water from the cup. “Thank you,” she squeaks and drinks more water.

“Now take deep breaths.” Anastasia drags in a breath to do it with her. “Now the water again.”

I stare in amazement at how she’s captured my daughter in this rhythm, and how Sophie begins breathing normally. With her against my chest, I get to my feet, feeling Anastasia’s hand on my arm, helping me.

“Give us some space,” she snaps at the people who have us surrounded, her voice strong and protective.

Holding my daughter, I stare at Ana, full of amazement. A spoiled Bratva princess isn’t supposed to care about anyone but herself.

She strokes Sophie’s ponytail. “I hope I didn’t hurt her.”

“She’s fine.” I hug my daughter tighter, but then gently pull her chin to me. “Sophie, what happened?”

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