Third Comes Vengeance (Promised in Blood, #3)

I smile up at the doctor as he leads me down the corridor. “Sorry, I thought Salvatore had explained. Thank you so much for accommodating us all.”

“Of course. Just in here.” He opens the door of a consulting room, and in a brusque and efficient voice, says, “This one should be roomy enough. I’ll have a nurse take some blood to confirm the pregnancy and then I’ll do an examination. Take off your clothes on your lower half, and then hop up onto this table. I’ll be back in a few minutes with the, ah, fathers.” He gives me an awkward smile and pulls the curtain closed around the bed. A moment later I hear the door close behind him.

I laugh to myself as I take off my jeans and underwear, imagining the obstetrician trying to get one father’s name, any name, for his forms, while they insist that he put all four of them. The vinyl padded table is cold and covered in scratchy paper, but there’s a blanket, and once I’m undressed I drape it over myself to keep warm.

The door opens and closes and I presume it’s the nurse coming to take my blood. Someone just visible beyond the curtain reaches up to open it.

“I wasn’t sure which arm is better. I know I have a good vein in the left…” My mouth goes dry as the curtain is pulled back and I realize the man dressed in a white coat isn’t my obstetrician. He isn’t a nurse, either.

His narrowed, hate-filled eyes sweep over me. He seems to like the fact that I’m half-naked and alone with just a blanket to protect me.

Cornered.

Without so much as a hairpin to use as a weapon.

His mouth draws into a nasty smirk. “Hello, Chiara. What a happy day this is. Congratulations to you and the fathers.”





14





Lorenzo





“Where’s that fucking doctor?”

“Trying to find a room big enough for us all,” Salvatore says, refilling his paper cup of water from the cooler.

“It’s not hard,” I mutter. “We’ll make ourselves fit.”

Vinicius grins. “Did you see his face when he realized we’re all the father? You think he would have come across something like this before.”

Salvatore laughs. “Here? This is the most uptight part of Coldlake. Not being married when you’re pregnant is enough to raise eyebrows.”

Cassius glares up the corridor. “That doctor better not be asking Chiara about our relationship. She needs peace and quiet while she’s carrying our baby.”

The back of my neck is prickling. Leaving Chiara alone with a strange man for even a second doesn’t sit right with me. I go over and stand by Cassius and peer up the hallway with him. Where is that doctor?

“You know what? Fuck this.”

I stalk down the corridor after Chiara and the obstetrician. A nurse passes me and stares at my bare arms and tattoos. I guess I’m not the usual sort of father she sees in this fancy place. I round on her with a snarl. “Where’s Chiara?”

“I don’t…” she begins, backing off with wide, scared eyes.

“I’ll find her myself.”

“No, you can’t—”

I push past her. Don’t fucking tell me can’t. I’ll find my woman if I damn well want to. The first door I rip open, the room beyond is empty. As I close it, someone emerges from another door at the other end of the corridor. He’s dressed like a doctor but something about the way he’s keeping his face averted doesn’t sit right.

“Hey.”

I take long strides toward him, and he speeds up.

“Hey.” I break into a run, and so does he. I’m torn between giving chase and finding my woman, but only for a second.

I need Chiara. Now.

I slam open the door the stranger emerged through and glance around. It’s not a very big exam room and the far wall is concealed by a privacy curtain.

“Chiara?”

My heart pounds in my chest as I hear dead fucking silence from behind that curtain.

I lunge forward, bracing for the sight of blood. For shattered dreams and horror. I can see it in my mind’s eye, a lurid composite of everything the Black Orchid Killer did to our sisters, only this time he’s done it to Chiara.

When I rip the curtain back, Chiara’s laying on her side and curled into a ball with her arms wrapped around her belly.

And she’s shaking.

Not dead. Relief pours through me, but only for a second.

The baby.

I put my hands on her. “Princess, what’s happened? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

Please, God, no.

Slowly she unclenches and turns toward me. Her face is chalk white. I can’t see any blood. I touch her belly, her thighs, feeling for wetness, for injuries.

“Lorenzo,” she whispers, her teeth chattering.

“What did he do to you?” I call over my shoulder as the other three come into the room, “There was a dark-haired man dressed as a doctor. I didn’t see his face. Find him.”

Salvatore is closest to the door. “I’ll go after him.”

Cassius casts Chiara a troubled look and follows Salvatore, and I hear their footsteps pounding down the corridor.

“Help me with her,” I say to Vinicius, and we coax Chiara into a sitting position. I peel back one of her eyelids and her pupils look normal.

Chiara takes a deep breath and grasps my shoulder. “I’m okay. He didn’t touch me. He just gave me a shock.”

Thank fucking Christ.

Vinicius groans in relief and pulls her into his arms.

“Who was it?” I ask. “Did you see his face?”

She nods. “It was Dad.”

I clench the blanket in my fist. The mayor. The fucking mayor was here. That piece of shit came down here to terrorize his pregnant daughter.

Vinicius disappears for a moment, then comes back with a can of lemonade from the vending machine. “For the shock.”

“Good idea.” I pull the tab and hand it to her. “Here, just a sip.”

As she drinks, I push her hair back from her face and then rest my hands on her shoulders. Reassuring myself that she’s fine. That the baby’s fine.

I exchange glances with Vinicius. He looked as horrified as I feel. That was too fucking close. “I can’t believe we let her out of our sight. What were we thinking?”

I picture shoving Sienna toward the stairs at Strife before heading back onto the street, assuming she would be fine. Believing, when I had no good fucking reason to believe, that she would be okay because she was only meters away from me. Distance doesn’t matter. The only way to know someone’s safe is to keep your own fucking eyeballs on them at all times, or better yet, under lock and key.

All around me is this asshole obstetrician’s expensive equipment. All the tools of his trade that make him seem safe to the women who come to him at their most vulnerable.

He did this. He let that fucking monster in here with Chiara.

“Where’s that doctor?” I growl, stalking out of the room.

I find him hiding in one of the empty exam rooms. I grab him by the collar of his white jacket and march him back to Chiara and Vinicius. On my way, I pass Cassius and Salvatore returning from hunting for the mayor.

“It was Romano. Did you see him?”

Salvatore shakes his head. “We didn’t find anyone. What are you going to do with him?”

Lilith Vincent's books