They are due in about two weeks. If her water breaks and the ambulance has to carry her through the club, it’s not going to be a good look.
But despite the way we bicker, Parker and I are close.
“It was a necessary lie.” I really need a top off.
Why hasn’t Brook called?
Kyra and Aurora share a glance.
“Don’t do that.” I point with my empty glass. “If you knew the backstory, you’d understand. But I can’t tell you or I’d have to kill you both, so you’re going to have to trust me.”
Kyra grins.
“No.”
“Oh, and he told her he loves her.” Killian finishes the story, and while the girls look like their worlds just lit up with fireworks, I dive at him.
He takes off, jumping onto the sofas.
The girls laugh, the music pumps, and Parker’s yelling something about pounding my face into the ground.
Why do I like that guy again?
Then, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Stop.” I hold Killian’s face into the cushions and answer.
“TRAVIS!”
My blood goes cold.
I’ve only talked to the guy a few times on the phone, but when he’s a US Marine protecting the woman you love, you pay attention.
“Brooklyn has been shot.”
––––––––
I RUN INTO the hospital and up to the desk.
“Travis Wa...my wife is here.” I lie.
Zayne and Killian stand behind me, looking like they belong in the mafia in their black shirts and pants, enormous timepieces that the hospital would love to auction off, and their tattoos.
Then again, so do I.
“What is her name?”
“Brooklyn. Brooklyn McKenna.”
The nurse frowns. “Sir, she is not your wife.”
Shit.
Of course, I forgot she knows half the fucking medical people in Manhattan.
It takes me twenty minutes to speak to someone in charge and a donation of five hundred thousand dollars to get the information I am after. Brook was shot in the shoulder and has lost a lot of blood but is likely to be fine.
Then we’re told to wait while she’s in surgery.
