The Trouble with Temptation (38 page)

Brannon.

Brannon bleeding.

Brannon whispering that he loved her … then
dying
.…

She jerked upright and then moaned, cradling her belly.

“Easy there.”

She rolled her head on the pillow and saw Ella Sue sitting in a chair next to her bed. Memory swarmed back and Hannah blinked back the tears. “The baby. Did I … I lost the baby, didn’t I?”

“Oh, honey.”

She started to sob.

“It’s my fault. I was in the car, and Beau … he was saying stuff and he freaked me out…”

“Hush.”

But she couldn’t. She was crying, all but choking on the tears.

“Hannah, give me your hand.”

Unable to fight, she let Ella Sue take her hand. But the woman wasn’t in a coaxing, comforting mood. She guided Hannah’s hand right to her belly. “Sweetheart, you haven’t lost your baby.”

Hannah’s eyes flew wide and she turned her head, staring in stunned shock into the dark, calm eyes of the woman at the bedside. “But…”

“You were trying to go into labor,” Ella Sue said calmly. “The paramedics got you here in time and Dr. Shaw stopped it. Beau told her what had happened and … goodness, honey. He feels terrible.”

Tears stung her eyes and she looked away. “It wasn’t his fault. I started remembering. And then somebody broke in and—hell, Ella Sue. I think I’m going crazy.”

“You’re not.” Ella Sue’s hand rested on Hannah’s belly. “You’re not going crazy. But you are going to have to take it easy.”

The door swung open and Hannah turned her head, watched as Dr. Ellison Shaw came in.

The woman looked tired and strained and even her smile looked frayed around the edges, but when she saw that Hannah was awake, some of the tension in her shoulders eased. “Well, I thought I heard talking. I came up to check on you.”

Hannah managed a weak smile. “I don’t know why. I sort of made your husband wreck his car.”

“Yeah.” Ellison looked away. “He … well. He told me. I think he understands, Hannah. It’s not like you haven’t been through one hell of a time lately.”

“Am I under arrest?” she asked.

Ellison laughed, but it was a weak echo of what it would have been. “I don’t think so.” She put her stethoscope on and listened to Hannah’s chest and Hannah lapsed into silence for the exam.

“How is the baby?” She was almost afraid to ask, but she had to know.

There was another question she was afraid to ask … but that one, if she asked and …

She blinked back the tears and focused on the doctor’s face, even as she tightened her grip on Ella Sue’s hand. She hadn’t even realized she was still holding it until that moment.

“Right now, she’s holding her own.” Then Ellison squeezed her mouth shut. “Shit, Hannah. I…”

Hannah started to laugh, the sound edging near desperate. “Dr. Shaw. Right now, the last thing I care about is you letting
he
or
she
slip. She’s…” Hannah licked her lips. “She’s okay?”

“Yes.” The doctor gestured to the monitors that Hannah hadn’t even noticed. “Look.”

She fiddled with the monitors and a moment later, a quick, rapid sound filled the room.

A heartbeat.

A
baby
’s heartbeat.

“She’s too little to have a good chance if she comes now,” Ellison said, staring at the monitors. “So we stopped the labor. I’m going to keep you here for several days and when you’re released, you will be on bedrest for a few weeks. If everything goes well…” She looked back at Hannah and smiled. “We’ll reevaluate. You’re just coming up on twenty-four weeks. The big thing now is to keep that baby inside you for as long as possible. If we can manage another six weeks, I’d be happy. Hell, I’m shooting for full-term, but you know how important it is from here on out. Every extra day helps. So … bedrest.”

Hannah nodded. She cradled her belly and thought to the little girl inside.
I’m sorry … I’m so sorry …

And when the doctor left, she turned her eyes toward Ella Sue.

Tears blurred her vision.

“Where’s Brannon?” she asked.

*   *   *

“He died on the table.” The surgeon met Gideon Marshall’s eyes with a grim look of his own as he scrubbed off. “We brought him back, but do us both a favor and don’t get in my face and demand to know when you can see him and interrogate him.”

Died on the table—
for a moment, Gideon heard nothing else. Then his brain clicked on and he was able to speak. “Okay, fuck the interrogation. Tell me how my friend is.”

Neve and Moira were sitting in the family lounge, half-shell shocked and the surgeon hadn’t yet talked to them.

He was on the way, but Gideon had badgered his way in because he’d seen the stark expressions on the faces of the nurses.

“He pulled through, okay?” Dr. Gil Barrett tugged off his cap and tossed it aside. He blew out a breath and lifted his face to the sky. “He lost so much blood and it was touch and go. Whoever stabbed him wanted him dead, there’s no doubt of that.”

Gideon just waited.

“But he’s a stubborn bastard and he’s always been healthy. Doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink much. We stopped the bleeding, pumped him full of fluids. I think we salvaged the kidney. He
should
be okay.” He stopped then. “He should. Now we just wait and see. Let me go talk to his sisters, okay? You can get out there and hold their hands.”

He managed a tired smile. “Come to think of it, that’s probably just as much why you’re here as anything, isn’t it?”

Gideon followed the doctor and waited by the door.

Revered Pratchett from First Methodist was sitting next to Moira, holding her small hand in his. Orville Pratchett was a big, rotund man, his beard snow white, his dark skin shiny and smooth, voice was gentle and soothing as he spoke to Moira. He looked every inch the man of the cloth, from his high clerical collar to the tips of his shiny black shoes, his Bible held in one hand. “In times like these, it’s sometimes hard not to ask why…”

Pratchett lapsed into silence, a weary smile on his lips as he saw the doctor.

“Moira … Neve…”

*   *   *

Hannah stared at the blood pressure monitor, checked her pulse, everything.

Then she nodded at J.P. “Disconnect me.”

He gave her a pained look.

“I have to see him.”

It had been twenty-four hours since she’d been brought into the hospital.

She’d been given a detailed report of his surgery—including how he’d flatlined on the table—but she hadn’t seen Brannon.

Nor would she, unless she took the initiative on her own.

They didn’t want to move her because of her bedrest orders.

He couldn’t be moved, because the hard-ass wouldn’t wake up.

J.P. squinted at her and then just nodded. “Okay. But if you cost me my license, you’re conning him into giving me some job on easy street. I can taste all the wines at his place for a thousand a week.”

“Sure. I’ll have him make sure some lush, leggy brunette brings you all the booze you could ask for, too.”

“Now we’re talking.” J.P. shot a look at the door and went about setting her up for transport. He eyed the numbers as he worked. “Blood pressure is good. Pulse is fine. They said the baby looked good this morning, right?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.”

He nodded, a quick, jerky move of his head and then he moved to the door, glanced out. “You’re in luck. Two moms came in, both of them are about ready to pop, sounds like.”

“That’s such a professional description.”

He grinned over his shoulder at her as he opened the door. He put the
no visitors please
sign up and then came for her. J.P. helped her into a wheelchair and they were out the door in ten seconds, pausing just long enough for him to shut the door. Luckily, Hannah’s room was positioned just at the bend in the hall, so once they were around the corner, the nurses wouldn’t see them. They just had to get—

“Made it,” J.P. said, blowing out a breath as he hit the elevator button.

“Not this elevator.” She pointed, glaring at him. “Go down the next hall and go left. Med-Surg unit. If anybody comes around…”

“Hannah…” He sounded pained. But he started pushing her chair.

It was fifteen minutes before he had her to Brannon’s unit.

Hannah was already tired, but she was determined.

When Neve saw her, her eyes flew wide.

When the nurses at the station saw her, they came up as a unit.

“Get lost,” she said to J.P. out of the corner of her mouth. Then she focused on Neve. “Get me in there. Please. Five minutes.”

Neve glanced over at the nurses, already moving toward them.

Then she nodded.

The nurses—two of them—didn’t move quite fast enough and Neve already had Hannah at Brannon’s bedside.

“Family only, Hannah.”

Hannah glanced at the nurse who’d spoken—she looked familiar, but she knew so many people from the hospital, she couldn’t keep names straight. Hand on her belly, she stared at Brannon’s lax face. “He is family. This little girl inside me proves that.”

The two nurses exchanged a look. “Ah, well, it’s not…”

Neve nudged her closer and murmured, “Talk to him. I’ll deal with this.”

“Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Would I ever do that?”

Hannah laughed and reached out, resting her hand on Brannon’s. Just that effort made her tremble.

“She can’t be in here, Neve,” The nurse’s voice was sympathetic but firm. “You have to understand—”

“Here’s the thing—I can think of two very good reasons why she belongs in here,” Neve said pleasantly. “She’s pregnant. Almost lost the baby—it’s
Brannon’s
baby. My brother hasn’t woken up in more than twenty-four hours. She’s his best bet. If anybody can get through to him? It’s going to be her. So how about we just chill on the damn
family
bit and give her five minutes?”

“It’s
policy
—”

“Five minutes,” the other nurse said.

Hannah closed her eyes and squeezed Brannon’s hand.

“Okay, pal. Positions are reversed. How did you wake me up last time?”

Neve bent over her and hugged her gently. Then she whispered, “He read you romance books.”

Hannah laughed. It turned into a sob as the other woman left, giving them five minutes.

*   *   *

She came back the next day.

This time, it wasn’t as easy to get out of her room and J.P. wasn’t there. But Ian and Neve came to spring her and when the nurses
loudly
advised against it, Ian flashed him his wicked grin and then gestured at the monitors. “She’s supposed to stay calm and relaxed. If you really want her to be calm and relaxed, the best thing you could do would be to just let me wheel her bed
down
to him.”

The doctor appeared in the doorway at that moment and studied them all. Then she sighed and called for a gurney.

So Hannah spent her five minutes talking to Brannon on a gurney.

“I don’t have a romance book to read to you, dumb ass. Why can’t you just wake up and tell me what it is you want me to read?” She waited and stared, watched his face as his eyelids flickered. “Come on, Brannon. I love you. Don’t do this to me … to us…”

“Time’s up, Hannah.”

Dr. Shaw stood in the doorway. She was dressed sedately, in black slacks and a gray sweater, her eyes sad.

“But…”

Then she sighed and nodded.

When she went to pull her hand away, Brannon’s fingers tightened on hers.

“’Nother minute,” he mumbled.

Ellison straightened, her brows arching.

“Brannon,” Hannah whispered.

“Stay.” He rolled his head toward her and lifted his lids. But they drifted down again, almost immediately, like it was too much of an effort to hold them open. “Stay with me, Hannah.”

*   *   *

“I don’t see why we can’t share a damn room.”

Brannon was sitting in a wheelchair next to her bed, staring at the monitors.

It had been fifteen hours since he had opened his eyes.

He was weak.

He was pale.

He’d almost puked when they had moved him, but he had told the nursing staff they could either get him to Hannah or he’d fall on his face when he tried to crawl to her.

They took him at his word and contacted his surgeon.

The surgeon agreed. Brannon McKay would definitely fall on his face and try to crawl to Hannah, so it was best if they just took him to see her in a wheelchair.

Drained by the stress of the past few days, Hannah closed her eyes. “Because it’s not the policy.”

“It’s stupid.”

He was smirking. She could hear it in his voice.

“Maybe I should buy the hospital. Then do I get to write policy?”

“Not if it’s stupid and ineffective. Your policy doesn’t improve patient care, Brannon.”

His hand squeezed her thigh. “Wrong. I can name five reasons why this would help. I’d feel better. You’d feel better. We’d leave the staff alone. They’d be happier. You’d be happier. I’d be happier.”

“That’s six.” She rubbed her belly. “You better learn to count before your daughter gets here.”

“My daughter…”

His hand joined hers.

“Yeah.” She cracked open one eye and stared at him. “Your daughter.”

Then she laced their fingers and murmured, “I’m tired.”

“Rest, then.” Brannon rubbed at her belly. “I’m here. You can rest.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Gideon went over the statement carefully and then passed it to Hannah.

She read it, feeling more than a little nauseated now.

Beau was in the room with her, along with Deatrick, one of the detectives. He’d been handling Shayla’s murder.

Brannon was also in the room and he’d just heard how she’d intentionally wrecked the car, intentionally put her baby—their daughter—at risk.

She hadn’t looked at him since she’d finished talking. She was afraid to.

Deathly afraid. But she couldn’t put it off forever.

Tomorrow, both of them were being released from the hospital and the plan had been for them to go to McKay’s Ferry and stay there for a few weeks, until Hannah was off bedrest and then they’d decide.