The instant the door closes behind Declan, I push the call button for the nurse.
Sixty seconds later, Nancy arrives, looking like she’d rather be eating a bowl of razor blades than visiting me.
“Hi, Nancy. I apologize for being a witch to you earlier, but I’m not feeling that great at the moment. Aside from my brain bleeding all over itself, I’ve been kidnapped.”
She blinks. “Uh…”
“You don’t have to do anything about it. I’m not asking for help. I know you’d get into big trouble with the Irish mafia if they found out you called the police, so don’t do that, okay? I don’t want your entire family getting killed on my behalf.”
“O…kay.”
“Great. Thanks. So listen, I was wondering if you could tell me what would cause a false-positive pregnancy test?”
After she uncrosses her eyes, she says, “It’s extremely rare for a blood test to return a false-positive.”
“But if it did, what would cause it?”
She thinks for a moment. “There are several conditions that raise the level of proteins in the blood. Recent miscarriage or abortion. Ectopic pregnancy, where a fertilized egg implants in the fallopian tubes. Some medications. Certain health conditions.”
“Like what?”
“I’d have to look it up for a complete list, but off the top of my head…kidney disease. Rheumatoid factors. Cancer.”
“What kinds of cancer?”
“Ovarian, primarily.”
Oh god. That’s what my mother died of. A pang of panic makes my heartbeat surge, but I breathe through it. “What about exposure to the drug ketamine?”
“That’s an anesthetic. It wouldn’t affect the test results.”
“Anything else you can think of?”
“No.”
“Okay. Thanks for the info. I appreciate it. Since I’m here, can we check for tumors on my ovaries? And let’s also do all the other blood tests I need to look for kidney disease and whatever else.”
“Why don’t we do another pregnancy test first?”
“I know I’m not pregnant.”
I can tell she’s thinking I’m in total denial, but she wisely doesn’t mention that.
“All right. I’ll order the tests.”
“Thank you.”
She stares at me for a moment, troubled. Pointing her thumb over her shoulder toward the door, she says, “So…”
“The head of the Irish mafia kidnapped me. Yeah.”
“But…”
I wave a hand in the air. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. He got the worse end of the deal. We’ll probably be back here in a week when he has the massive coronary he’s got brewing. Hey, would it be possible for me to get a protein smoothie? Oh, and could I also ask you to please call Lakeside Yoga in King’s Beach, Tahoe, and tell them that Sloane has the flu and will be out for a while? If they ask who you are, just say Riley. That’s my little sister.”
I smile at her. She blinks a few more times, looking totally confused, before turning and walking out.
I slide down in bed, pull the covers over my face, close my eyes, and start silently repeating positive affirmations.
I’m not pregnant.
I’m not pregnant.
I’m not… Wait. That’s a negative phrasing, not a positive one. We need to keep it positive. Try again.
I am free from a baby.
I am baby-less.
I am without child.
I am non-pregnant.
I am a total fucking moron.
Groaning, I flip the covers off my face and stare at the ceiling. I spend a while counting the cracks in the ceiling tiles, until I realize this is the perfect scenario for Declan to unburden himself of me.
He doesn’t have to take me back to New York where he snatched me from. He doesn’t have to make arrangements for travel or avoiding whoever might be trying to rescue me. He could simply leave me in the hospital and walk out.
Like he did only minutes ago.
Right after Nancy announced I was pregnant.
My heart starts to pound. My mouth goes dry. There’s an awful tightness in the pit of my stomach.
Okay, what is this feeling? Let’s name this feeling to diffuse its power.
Right now, I’m feeling…strange.
Too vague. Try again.
I’m feeling…unwell.
Could be that blood clot in your head. Let’s talk about your emotional state, not your physical one, Sloane.
I hate it when you get snippy with me.
And I hate it when you talk back to your inner voices like you’re a crazy person. WHAT ARE YOU FEELING?
Aloud, I blurt, “Hurt.”
As soon as I say it, I know it’s true. Then the disbelief comes.
I’ve lost my mind. My feelings are hurt because my kidnapper left when he heard about the baby.
The non-baby that I am definitely not having.
I leap from bed, run to the door, and yank it open. I don’t know what I had planned, I’m acting on sheer instinct, but as soon as the door flies open, four huge men in black suits jump from their places flanking either side of the door to create an impenetrable bristling gangster wall in front of me.
One of them is Kieran.
Why seeing him causes such relief to flood my body, I don’t want to know.
He takes one look at my face and slams into scary high-alert mode. Yanking a gun from his waistband, he peers behind me into the room, hackles raised and growling.
“What’s the craic? Are ye all right, lass?”
“Yes, I’m all right. I just…um. I was…thirsty.”
Kieran relaxes his shoulders and exhales a breath. Then he turns to the man beside him.
“Go fetch a wee glass of water for the lass, and be quick about it.” He puts the gun back into its holster and turns to me, smiling. “Boy’s a dear, you had me soilin’ my kex with that puss of yours.”
I don’t think I’ll ever understand a word the man says, but I know on a cellular level that he was worried about me, that he was ready to shoot any intruder who might be in my room, and that Declan not only hasn’t abandoned me in this hospital, he’s left me with my own personal protection unit in his absence.
I refuse to name this feeling. It might be the final straw that breaks my brain.
“Best get back in bed, lass,” says Kieran with a chin jerk. “Declan’ll go mad as a box of frogs if he finds ye worse off when he gets back.”
Instead of answering, I give Kieran a hug.
When I release him, everyone is staring wide-eyed at me like I farted in church.
I say sincerely, “Thank you, Kieran. And all you guys, too. I feel so much better knowing you’re out here. I really appreciate you watching out for me. I’m sure there’s probably lots of other stuff you’d all rather be doing…”
I inhale an unsteady breath. No one says anything. The gangster who Kieran sent to get the water returns and hands me a paper cup.
I stare at it in my hand, surprised to see it shaking.
“In ye go now, lass,” says Kieran gently. “Rest, aye?”
“Okay. Aye.”
He winks at me. For some bizarre reason, it makes me emotional.
Looking at my bodyguards, I say in a strangled voice, “I just want you all to know that I think Irish gangsters are much cooler than Russian ones. Except for Declan. But you guys are just the best.”
I go inside, close the door, chug the water, then lie facedown on the bed, breathing deeply into the pillow until Nancy arrives again.
“If it’s all right with you, I’ll draw more blood now so we can get those tests going, then we can head over to Radiology to get an ultrasound to look inside your uterus and ovaries.”
“Brilliant. Let’s do this.”
I sit quietly while she draws six small vials of blood. It seems like an awful lot, but I don’t mention it. “How long until we get the blood test results back?”
“For you, about an hour.”
I’m getting pushed to the head of the line. No doubt thanks to her terror of Declan annihilating her entire family tree. “I appreciate it. Thank you, Nancy.”
She pauses what she’s doing to glance up at me. Sending a furtive look toward the door, she murmurs, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course. Being kidnapped isn’t the worst thing I’ve been through. And they’re only men. It’s not like they’re hard to handle. I’ve known Chihuahuas who were way scarier.”
“I haven’t. Those guys are terrifying. And their boss…” She shudders.
Curiosity rears its ugly head. “Have you lived in Boston your whole life?”
She nods.
“So the Irish mafia here is pretty powerful, huh?”
“They run the city. It’s been that way as long as I can remember. Even the cops are on their payroll.”
I can tell she’s warming up to me, so I make a small, encouraging noise to indicate I’m listening.
“I mean, we’ve got the Italians, too. And the Russians. And lots of others, but the Irish have a stronger presence in Boston than in any other city in America. Things used to be more stable, but over the past few years, turf wars have broken out. The top Mob bosses keep getting killed. There was a murder just this week, as a matter of fact.”
“I heard about that. Diego, was it?”
“Yes.”
“Strange name for an Irishman.”
“Oh, he wasn’t Irish. He was Mexican-American. It was all over the streets when his boss got shot and he took over. They said it was a sign of the times, a Latino guy taking the helm. The Mob going more international or whatever.”
The Russians had an ethnic Ukrainian as their last leader, so I guess it’s not so odd that the Irish would have a Mexican-American. “So what happened to this Diego?”
“The papers said his body was found at the dump. They still haven’t found his head.”
How gruesome. I wonder how close he and Declan were? “Do they have any idea who did it?”
She gives me a look. “It wasn’t one of his friends, that’s for sure.”
Of course. It was one of his enemies. Like maybe the Italians.
Or the Russians.
Or Kage.
No wonder Declan looks at me with so much…whatever it is. I’m Natalie’s best friend. I said I was friends with Kage. I dated Stavros. Even if he admits I didn’t start a war, he still thinks I’m his enemy.
An enemy he’s going to an awful lot of trouble to protect.
The question is: why?
“Excuse me?”
Startled from my thoughts, I realize I spoke that last part out loud. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m just all up in my head. Things are a bit complicated at the moment.”
Nancy sidesteps that minefield and says she’ll get me a wheelchair for our trip to Radiology, which is on the second floor.
“Do I look that bad?”
“No.” She pauses. “But… ” She clears her throat. “If you were to fall and hurt yourself, I’d have to explain to Mr. O’Donnell how I let that happen. And he left rather specific instructions that you were to be well taken care of.” She pauses again. “To be perfectly honest, he told Dr. Callahan that if you died, he would, too. I’m guessing the same standard applies to me.”
Declan threatened the doctor’s life? I can’t decide if that’s awful or sweet.
“Gotcha. No worries. He’s not going to kill anyone. He just likes to throw that around to scare people.”
Nancy looks doubtful. “I don’t mean to contradict you, but he didn’t earn his position with Boy Scout badges.”
She leaves me to mull that over while she gets the wheelchair. When she returns, Kieran is all in a huff.
“What’s this, then?” he growls, crowding in the door with the rest of the gang. He eyes the wheelchair suspiciously, like it’s wired with explosives.
“I’m going down to the radiation department to get more tests.”
His brows draw together. He doesn’t like the idea. “Declan said nothin’ about lettin’ ye outta the room.”
“Why don’t you come with? We’ll make it a field trip.”
“Or ye can just wait till he gets back.”
To ask permission, he means. As if.
I say blithely, “Oh, I’ll leave it up to you. He said he wanted me to get all the tests I needed done as soon as possible to make sure this brain bleed thing isn’t going to kill me, but if you think it’s best for me not to, that’s fine.”
I wait, smiling expectantly.
Two minutes later, all six of us are crowded into the hospital elevator, headed down.
When the doors open on the second floor, Kieran and his men exit first, weapons drawn. They conduct a sweep of the corridor before they let Nancy and me off the elevator. Then they walk on either side of us like the president’s personal field agents, glaring daggers at anyone who dares to look our way.
I hate to admit I love the drama of it. I feel like a celebrity. It’s a good thing I’m not, because I’d be a horrible diva. Two flights on a private jet—one of them while in captivity—and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fly economy again.
The ultrasound goes without a hitch. There are no tumors or cysts on my ovaries, and my uterus is as barren as the Sahara. I leave smiling.
The smiling ends when we’re back in my room and Nancy tells me the results of the blood tests.
