The guy stops, his gaze bouncing between the three of us as if he can’t figure out what to make of us.
“Who the fuck are you?” If he knows Axelle, I have to assume that this douchebag knows Layla.
“You must be Blake.” He tilts his head, studying me.
He’s not in bad shape, about my height, maybe a few inches shorter. He looks as if he’s probably one of those outdoorsy guys who hike and swim laps. If push came to shove, I’d destroy the pansy.
I take step toward him, and he doesn’t back down. Gotta give him credit for that. “You know me. I’ll give you one more chance to tell me who the fuck you are and why you’re addressing my daughter like you know her.”
“Your daughter.” He laughs in a way that’s less humor more teasing.
I shove him hard, and he rocks back on one foot.
“Blake.” Braeden pushes through the double doors, appearing in my peripheral vision. “Stop.” He steps between us, his back to me. “Trip, man, back the fuck off my brother. I told you to go home.”
Trip? Why does that name sound familiar?
The guy, Trip, motions to Axelle. “I just wanted to meet my daughter.”
A gasp flies from Axelle’s lips a second before Killer descends. His fist flies, cracking Trip in the jaw and knocking him on his ass.
“Killian!” Axelle rushes up and attempts to grab him from behind.
He holds her back, gently, but firmly. “You fucking dare show your face around here, motherfucker!” Killer charges again, this time caught up by Brae.
“Calm down!” He jerks Killer hard. “You hear me? Stand the fuck down. This is not helping Layla.”
My eyes move between a stunned Axelle and a dazed Trip. Holy shit . . . she looks just like the guy. Prettier, more feminine, but yeah, that’s her biological father.
Oh hell no!
A guttural roar rumbles from my chest and I lunge. “You sick son of a bitch!” I slam my fist into his jaw, making contact with a sickening crack. “You’ve been snooping.” Another solid hit to his jaw. “Shoulda’ stayed away.” I throw another punch, but I’m pulled back by Killer and Brae before I make contact. I thrash, trying to break free, fear and anger swirling in my blood to destroy the man who raped my woman. The man who’s been digging around through birth records and now stalking my family.
“We got this, bro. We’ll take care of him.” Brae yells in my ear. “Don’t get escorted out of here and miss the birth of your baby, man. Get your shit together and go help your woman!”
“Don’t let that motherfucker go,” I growl.
“Got it. Now go.” Brae shoves me off toward the door.
I glare at the bleeding piece of shit on the floor and point right at him. “I’m not even close to being done with you.” I hook an arm around a whimpering Axelle. “Come on, kiddo. The boys’ll deal with him. Let’s go bring our baby into the world.”
Eighteen
Layla
“As soon as the doctor gets here, we’ll start pushing.” Danita, my nurse who’s been here with me since I checked in, squeezes my hand and gives me a kind smile.
I nod, exhausted, in pain, and incapable of speech.
Why in the holy hell did I refuse the drugs? I wanted to experience labor since I didn’t get to when I had Axelle. I’d read so many birthing books that didn’t make it sound this hard. Fucking liars! My lower back muscles have been in a constant state of contraction, and my womb is not far behind.
Danita holds my hand between hers, her head turned to the monitor. “Here comes another one, Layla.”
I want to roar, “No shit, I can feel it!” but instead roll my lips between my teeth and prepare.
She leans down and fixes her eyes with mine. “Relax. Focus. Now breathe.”
My fingers grip the edge of the bed as another wave of contractions hits me hard. Every muscle in my abdomen pulls tight, tighter, so tight they feel twisted, as if they’re about to break or rip right through my skin. I bite down, holding back the moan of agony that pushes at my throat.
“Almost done. Keep breathing. You’re doing great.”
I gasp for air. Having forgotten to breathe, my head feels light. Sweat breaks out over my skin. My eyes pinch closed. God, make it stop.
“Layla, shit . . .”
I open my eyes to Blake, who’s standing on the other side of the bed, Axelle at his side.
Just seeing them here causes tears to spring free from my eyes, and a guttural sob rips from my chest.
Blake moves in, grabbing my other hand and pulls it to his chest before burying his face in my neck. “Sh, sh . . .” His lips move against my skin, small kisses between his talking. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. Sh . . .”
Slowly the contraction fades, and I take a long deep breath of relief and try to sink back onto the bed.
“Blake, right?” Danita smiles warmly at him.
He straightens but doesn’t release my hand while he rubs circles against my skin nervously. “Yeah, yes. Blake.”
If I weren’t so tired, I’d smile.
“Nice to meet you.” Her gaze swings to Axelle. “And you must be the big sister.”