Page 99 of Armed ’N’ Ready

Even though she’d rejected his love, he’d shown her his in the only way possible at the time. He’d paid off all her debts, allowing her to keep the café. It was as if a bright light had been turned on, illuminating the truth. The DPC meant everything to her, and Nick knew that.

The only emotion flowing through her now was fear. She’d learned quickly over the last few weeks that if she didn’t tamp down everything else, she’d go insane. At this point, she was beginning to feel numb to everything. Better that than the jagged, heart-wrenching pain she’d experienced that first week until Nick’s vitals had stabilized. Now that numbness was the glue holding her together.

Needing to touch him, she trailed her fingertips along his arm. Feeling a spurt of hopefulness, she glanced up to watch the now-familiar green blips track across one of the monitors. She’d become tightly attuned to what each beep and blip represented, and there was nothing to indicate he’d felt her touch. Considering he’d coded twice during the ambulance ride to the hospital, she was grateful for the steady pattern of normal sinus rhythm.

She could vaguely recall the lights and screaming sirens from all the police cars that had given them an escort to the hospital. After that, everything was a blur. Except for the blood. It had been everywhere. On his uniform, his chest, and even on her. When the medics had used the defibrillator on him, her own heart had nearly seized, and she’d never been more frightened in her entire life as she’d been at that moment. When she’d again thought he was dead.

Miraculously, he’d made it to the hospital alive, then been transfused with so many liters of blood she’d lost count. After that, he’d been raced into surgery to repair the damage. The doctors said he’d been anoxic—not enough blood flow to the brain, and his body had shut down. The ventilator had been removed two weeks ago, and he was breathing on his own, but he still hadn’t woken.

The last words he’d said to her on the roof before succumbing to unconsciousness came back to her: Love. You. Too.

She swallowed the rising sob in her throat and blinked back the tears. Theirs was a love that might very well never happen.

One of the nurses she’d come to know, an older woman of about forty, with the reddest hair she’d ever seen, entered the room, smiling as she began inspecting the levels of fluid in each of the IV bags. “Morning, Andi.”

“Morning, Patsy.” She forced a smile, one she didn’t feel in the slightest. “Any change?” It was the same question she’d asked each and every day, although she knew Patsy or one of the doctors would have informed her if there’d been anything new to report.

She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.” Her expression was kind and sympathetic.

Patsy adjusted the blood pressure cuff on Nick’s right arm, then turned to leave, giving her a light squeeze on the shoulder before disappearing out the door. The blood pressure machine kicked on, its motor whirring as the cuff inflated around Nick’s bicep. She waited for the inevitable readout on the screen, already knowing what it would be. One-ten over seventy. The same as it was every hour of every day. No change.

Her heart clenched, and she pressed a hand to her flat belly. Keep it together. You have to, now more than ever.

The doctors had all agreed they didn’t know how Nick had the strength to survive this long, but there was still a possibility he would die before he ever woke. His injuries had been bad enough, but it was the blood loss that had taken the worst toll on his body.

Her gaze took in the windowsill crammed with flowers and cards. Since the day he’d been brought in, there’d been a constant influx of police and K-9 officers from all over the Commonwealth. Most of her memories of that night in the emergency room were fuzzy, but she had a vague recollection of the waiting area filled to capacity by uniformed officers from all over the city and surrounding areas, offering moral support and ready and willing to donate blood. Though they’d all had to wait in line behind Matt, Eric, the rest of Nick’s friends, plus Agent Cox, and Nick’s family.

For the last month, one or more of them had been there with her at Nick’s bedside. What surprised her more than anything was that they’d gone well out of their way to provide for her every need, and they barely knew her.

Nick’s parents, along with his brother and sister, had visited nearly every day. Despite the horrific circumstances, they’d been pleased that Nick had found someone after Tanya had passed. Andi’s parents had been up to visit, as well, and were coming again this weekend.

Eric lived locally and had been to the hospital every day, bringing her food and coffee, along with restaurant magazines. For a man as big and strong as a Viking, he’d been gentle with her, and his sympathy knew no bounds. She’d lost track of the number of times he’d held her while she’d cried.

Kade, Jaime, Dayne, and Markus had returned to their respective cities, but they’d rotated up on weekends. Agent Cox stopped by every other day. Matt had barely left Nick’s side. He and his pregnant wife, Trista, were both on leave to be there.

As had become her habit lately, she splayed her hand over her lower abdomen, much the same way Trista did. Only Trista was a good five months further along.

“Did you tell him?” Matt’s voice came from the doorway.

She’d been so absorbed that she hadn’t heard him come in. “Tell him what?”

He cracked a smile. “That you’re pregnant.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know? I haven’t told anyone.” Not even my parents. Subconsciously, she glanced down to reassure herself that at only one month, she still wasn’t showing.

“Trista told me.” He hooked a thumb in the direction of the corridor behind him. “She’s in the ladies’ room. Again. Says the baby is pressing against her bladder. She caught you touching your belly a lot.” He dipped his head to where her hand rested on her lower abdomen. “Don’t worry. Most of us—men, that is—are too dense to pick up on stuff like that.”

Whether it was hormones or from outright relief that she could talk to someone about her unexpected pregnancy, the tears she’d been holding in check streamed from the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, honey.” Trista waddled past Matt, grabbing a handful of tissues from a box on the windowsill, then handing them to her as she sat in a chair and wrapped an arm around Andi’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay. No matter what happens, we’re here for you. All of us. You’re family now.”

Her body began shaking as tears rolled down her cheeks. Matt grabbed the box of tissues and brought it to her, crouching in front of her chair. He remained there, resting his hand on her knee. After a few minutes, she dabbed at her eyes and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. She gave Matt and Trista a grateful smile.

“I’m okay. Really. Sorry, I-I just lost it for a minute there.” Renewed sadness overwhelmed her. Just when she thought she’d exerted control over her emotions, it had shattered in seconds, making her realize she wasn’t quite as numb as she’d thought or wished she could make herself.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Trista’s green gaze flicked to Nick. “Tell him about the baby. He might hear you, and even if he doesn’t, it will make you feel better. Besides, he deserves to know.”

She shut her eyes tightly, then took a deep breath, nodding jerkily. “Okay.”