Maya Banks - No Place to Run

“She needs stitches, Sam. I know you don’t like it, but if you’re not going to do the right thing and take her to the hospital, I need to stitch her up. I can give her a local to numb it. It won’t be as good as the stuff they give you in the ER, but if she stays under, she won’t feel it.”

Sam swore under his breath, closed his eyes and blew out a sound of resignation. “Okay, do it. Be quick about it. I don’t want to make this worse than we have to.”

Sam tucked her face into his neck, then smoothed his hand up her arm until he reached the spot Donovan was prepping. It was ridiculous that he was acting like a nervous woman over this. He’d patched up his share of bloody wounds on the battlefield. He’d seen things that would make even the most hardened soldier blanch. But the sight of Sophie, pregnant and vulnerable in his arms, while his brother was about to stick a needle through her skin, made his insides churn.

“Hold her,” Donovan murmured as he prepared to place the first stitch. “If she jerks, it’ll make it hurt more, and I don’t want to do any more damage.”

“Just do it,” Sam growled.

He curled Sophie tighter into him, offering her his strength and his protection. When the needle pierced her skin, he wasn’t sure who tensed more—him or Sophie.

Her face twisted and her eyes flew open in alarm. She seemed to look right through him. Her mouth opened in a soundless cry, and then when she spoke, it came out broken and hoarse.

“Please,” she begged. “Don’t hurt my baby.”

Sam’s gut twisted, and even Donovan looked up, his eyes narrowing.

“What the hell?” Donovan muttered.

“Get it over with,” Sam ordered.

He turned back to Sophie and pressed his lips to hers in an effort to stop the whimpering sounds that hit him like darts.

“Shhh, Sophie, it’s Sam. I’m here. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I swear. Your baby is fine. I’m fine. Do you understand?”

“Sam,” she slurred out. “Have to warn Sam. No longer safe. I stayed away but now they found me. Sam has to know.”

A single tear trailed down her cheek, and Sam kissed it away, savoring the contact after so many months. He didn’t care what Van thought. Didn’t care what he saw or that he’d tell Garrett and they’d both be on his ass. Right now this was his woman in his arms. His child. And he wanted to know who the hell had threatened her. Who she was so afraid of. And why she thought she had to protect him.

It made him furious.

“Aren’t you finished yet?” Sam hissed.

“Almost,” Donovan muttered.

Donovan set the needle to her flesh to do the last two stitches. Sam just prayed he’d hurry the fuck up.

Again Sophie tensed and let out a low sob. Sam wanted to moan with her.

“He’ll be so angry,” she said in a broken voice.

She was babbling now, flinching with each stitch, though she didn’t struggle. She seemed to have resigned herself to the hell she was enduring. Sam only wished he knew what was going on inside her fevered mind.

“He’ll hate me. He’ll never understand. Have to tell him the truth.”

Donovan tied off the last suture and cast a worried glance in Sam’s direction. Sam didn’t need Donovan to tell him this was crazy. It went beyond bizarre. There was some seriously weird shit going on.

The question was, how was Sophie involved? And if she was in trouble, why the hell hadn’t she come to him before now?

His hand slid down to palm her belly, and he felt the reassuring little wiggle of the baby inside her womb.

And if this was his child, what the hell did that mean for him and Sophie now?

SOPHIE was finally warm. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t hurt, but she was warm. It took her a moment in her befuddlement to realize that the source of her warmth came from another person.

She studied the feel of the body against hers without opening her eyes. Hard. Muscled. Definitely male. And familiar.

She snuggled deeper into the wall of his chest and inhaled deeply. She knew that scent. She’d know it anywhere.

Sam.

His arm tightened around her waist, forcing her belly into his groin. It was then she felt the light flutter of her baby. Gasping, she bolted upright, nearly screaming in agony when her arm protested. But she didn’t care. Her baby had moved.

She sat up in the bed, both her hands splayed over her belly, as she willed her little one to move again. She nearly came undone when the reassuring pitter-patter tapped a rhythm against her palms.

“Oh, thank God,” she whispered.

Relief staggered her and made her weak. She sagged precariously, and strong arms caught her, easing her back down on the pillow. She stared up into Sam’s blue eyes, and she forgot to breathe.

She reached up to touch his cheek, needing proof that he was really here. “Sam. It’s you.”

She’d made it. She didn’t know how. She didn’t care. But she was here and safe with Sam. He’d protect her and their child. He had to.

He studied her intently. His expression was guarded, and his lips were in a firm line, neither smiling nor frowning.

“Yes, it’s me, Sophie. How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?”

She was too shocked to register how she felt. She was so relieved that her baby was moving, but she was flabbergasted that she was lying in Sam’s bed, in his arms. How many nights had she lain alone, dreaming of being back in his arms?

Then fear rolled through her. The rush of memories, everything that had happened in the last few days, came at her, reminding her that her child’s life wasn’t worth a damn at the moment.

“How long have I been here?” she asked as she struggled to remove herself from Sam’s grip.

Pain shot up her arm and left her gasping for breath. He let her go but assisted her in sitting up. His gaze dropped to her belly, and she swallowed nervously. He wasn’t stupid. He’d put it together. He probably already had. But there was so much more he didn’t know.

“A few hours,” he said in a low voice. “I fished you out of the lake. You’ve drifted in and out of consciousness ever since. You freaked when I told my brother to call for an ambulance. You specifically didn’t want a hospital or the police. Care to tell me why?”

She glanced away, but he nudged her chin back with insistent fingers.

“Oh no, Sophie. You and I have a lot to talk about. Starting with what the hell happened to you. Where the hell you disappeared to five months ago. How you knew where to find me and who I was. Why you feel the need to warn me. And most importantly. The most important issue of all. Are you pregnant with my child?”

The blood rushed from her face. He certainly hadn’t pulled any punches. But then he deserved answers. He’d hate her, but he deserved to know the truth. About everything.

She swallowed nervously and stared at him with dread weighing down on her like two tons of bricks.

His eyes narrowed, and he brushed his thumb over her cheek. She should have found the gesture comforting, but it was more prompting than affectionate.

She licked her lips, then opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She stared at him in horror as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. Now that she was finally in front of him, was so close she could feel his warmth wrapping around her, she couldn’t say anything at all.

His expression softened and his fingers eased around her jaw. “Don’t be afraid of me, Sophie. I won’t ever hurt you. I’m in uncharted territory here, so bear with me, okay? I need to know if you’re carrying my child.”

As he spoke, his other hand dropped to her belly, and he cupped the rounded curve. The baby fluttered and bumped in response, and she caught her breath at the wonder of feeling her move after being still for so long.

“She’s yours,” Sophie said around a chest so tight she could barely breathe.

His pupils flared and his nostrils quivered. For a moment he stared at her in silence, as if digesting the declaration.

“She?” he finally said.

Sophie flushed. “I call it ‘her.’ I don’t know for sure. Just a feeling. I don’t like saying ‘it.’ ”

“But you can tell at this stage, right? I mean, you’ve had a sonogram. Couldn’t they tell you the sex?”

She looked down. “I haven’t had a sonogram.”

He nudged her chin up again, and he frowned at her. “But you’ve been to the doctor.”

She shook her head. “Too dangerous.”

His mouth screwed up into a pinched bow. He continued staring at her with those intense blue eyes.

“But she’s mine.”

“Yes. She’s yours. No doubt about it.”

“I see.”

He seemed calm enough, but she could sense the turmoil beneath the deceptively calm expression.

“And you’re just now getting around to telling me.”

She almost laughed. She would have if she hadn’t been so sure it would end up in a fit of hysteria. Tell him. As if it was the easiest thing in the world. Bitterness, sharp and quick, welled in her chest.

“Tell you?” She did laugh then. She simply couldn’t hold it back. As predicted, it ended in a high, shrill sound that was anything but pleasant. “Just how was I supposed to tell you, Sam? You walked out of that hotel room after you told me I wouldn’t see you again.”

His eyes narrowed again, and they glittered dangerously.

“And yet you had no problem finding me. You obviously knew where I was all along, which is more than I can say I knew about you. How is that, Sophie? Just who the hell are you and what are you playing at?”

How quickly his questions turned into accusations.