Disgusted, I reach into my pocket and pull out my card. “Call me. I’ll wire the money first thing tomorrow.”
He snatches the card from my fingers, but I can’t bear to look up to see what I know is going to be the pure delight in this man’s face: the expression of a father who just sold any chance of having a relationship with his daughter for less than it costs to buy a car.
“You’re not messing with me, are you? His voice shakes.
“You take this deal.” I push up to my full height and move in close, tucking my chin to keep his eyes. “She’s dead to you. You get me, motherfucker? I pay you. You back off. Forever. You don’t, and my boys and I will annihilate you.”
“Deal.” He nods frantically and holds out his hand for me to shake.
I glare at his hand. “Get the fuck out of my face.”
He blinks up at me.
“Now!”
His spindly body jerks and he takes off running.
Forty-five grand is a small price to pay to know that Eve will be safe from her father and his lifestyle, but the peace that brings is short-lived when I remember what waits inside the hospital.
I head back into the waiting room and see a doctor approaching Jonah with his hand outstretched in greeting. He’s wearing scrubs along with a matching hat that they use in surgery. His facemask is hanging around his neck, and his eyes are locked on Jonah.
“Mr. Slade.” The doctor shakes Jonah’s hand. “I’m Dr. Kapatia.”
Jonah responds with a stiff nod.
“Let’s have a seat, and I’ll explain how Raven and the baby are doing and answer any questions you might have.”
The heavyweight fighter’s chin drops to his chest, and his shoulders sag as he lets out a long, relieved breath. “They’re alive.”
“Yes, they’re alive and stable.” The doc motions to the seats and sits down, but Jonah stays standing, his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucked into his armpits.
Blake is nearby with a sobbing Layla wrapped up tight in his arms. Rex is a few seats down, elbows on his knees and head hanging low between his shoulders. A few of the other fighters are keeping a safe distance. My stomach churns with anxiety. Stable is good, but it doesn’t mean Raven and the baby are going to make it. At least, not in the way that Jonah might think. Stable means breathing. But the body is a complex machine, and a major trauma could fuck it up enough to turn it into a shell of what it should be.
I should know. I live it every day.
“Raven was hit on the driver’s side of a car that wasn’t strong enough or equipped with the modern safety devices that newer cars have. Lap belts alone aren’t—”
“Fuck!” Jonah interlaces his fingers behind his head. “Don’t say it.”
The doctor looks to me and then to Blake with a question in his expression. He swings his gaze back to Jonah. “I’m sorry, don’t say what?”
“The Nova. She . . .” He scrubs his hands over his face. “I told her not to . . .”
“I don’t know the make of the car she was in, only that it was older and has a soft top, which is why—”
“Fuck!”
Blake steps close to Jonah and leans in to say something to him under his breath. Whatever it is works, and Jonah calms down. “Go on.”
“The impact broke a few of her ribs, fractured her arm, and she’s got a nasty concussion. But the reason we took her into surgery was because she suffered placental abruption.”
Jonah’s eyes are to the floor, his hands fisting into his hair. I wait for him to ask a question, seek the details, but it looks as if he’s lost to his fears.
“What does that mean for the baby?” I ask and hope like hell the next thing out of this doctor’s mouth is good news.
“The placenta detached from the uterus. The baby can’t survive in that situation. We took Raven into surgery to check on some internal bleeding and to take the baby.”
Jonah’s head snaps up; his shoulders crank back. “My baby’s here?” His eyes dart to the long hallway that leads into the hospital. “But it’s too early. How? I mean is he or”—he swallows what must be a massive ball of emotion—“she . . .? It’s too early.”
The doctor stands up and holds out his hand to Jonah. “Mr. Slade, congratulations, you have a very tiny, but feisty, baby girl.”
A girl.
Jonah stumbles back as if the good news delivered a solid punch to his chest. “A girl.”
“She’s early—too early—but we’re doing everything we can to mature her lungs and get her weight up. Girls are incredibly strong, and this little one is demonstrating she’s a fighter just like her Dad.”
“I have a daughter.” Jonah sucks in a shaky breath and everyone around him gives him silent congratulations in the form of a thump on the back.
The doctor clears his throat. “Your daughter—”
“Sadie,” Jonah says. “Her name is Sadie.”
He nods. “Sadie. She’s in the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit. I’ll send a nurse down to get you, and you can go see her.”