Man of Honor (Battle Scars #3) - Diana Gardin Page 0,95
a slut.” He pulls the trigger.
I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for the pain. The burn. However it feels when a bullet slices through the skin. But instead, all I hear is Mikah’s grunt of pain.
When I hit the floor, it’s with Drake lying on top of me. The only thing I see is his face above me. He’s asking me over and over again if I’m hurt. If I’m okay.
Grisham is on the porch, wrestling with my father. I try to sit up, and Drake lifts me into his arms. Carries me into the yard.
“Where’s Mikah! Where is he!” I don’t recognize that voice. It’s frantic. It’s desperate. It’s mine.
Greta is screaming as Drake lays me on the front lawn. He crouches next to me, poking and prodding my body, searching for a wound.
“Talk to me, baby girl. Are you hit?” Drake’s voice is full of urgency. His warm brown eyes are wild, staring at me as he asks me over and over again if I’m hurt. When he presses down on my shoulder, I wince at the piercing pain.
Gasping, I put a hand to my shoulder. When I pull it away, it’s coated with bright red blood.
I try to look toward the porch. The pain is intense, now that I can feel it, but the pain in my heart is so much worse. All I want is to see my brother, know he’s okay.
Please, Mikah.
Sirens scream at the end of the street. Help is on the way. But all I can think about is if they’re too late, I’ll never forgive myself.
Grisham comes down the porch steps, leaving an unconscious Carlos on the porch.
“Is he dead?” Drake’s voice is grim, distant. His eyes don’t leave me. He has two hands on my shoulder, applying pressure to my wound. “Stay with me, sweetheart. You look sleepy. Don’t go anywhere.”
I am so sleepy. I want to close my eyes and sleep for days. But I can’t. There’s something I need to know first…Someone I need to see…
But I can’t remember any more. The world is going dark. I welcome the dark.
The dark feels good.
What’s that beeping?
My eyelids are heavy; I struggle to open them.
“Mea? Baby girl…come back to me.”
Drake’s voice. He sounds scared. I force my eyes open, just because I don’t want him to be scared. He’s never scared. He’s calm, cool, and collected. He’s the strongest man I know.
“Hey.” His large hands are wrapped around one of mine. He squeezes gently, lifts it to his lips. As I stare up at him, I note that his eyes are bloodshot. I hone in on the scar by his left temple. His hair is falling over it, I brush it away. When I focus on his eyes, they’re pained. Tortured. But beneath that, they’re relieved.
“Where am I?” My voice feels like I swallowed a thousand rusty nails. And I want that damn beeping to stop.
Drake’s hand smooths my hair back and he leans his forehead against mine. “You don’t remember what happened?”
There’s the torture in his eyes again.
Wait…My grandparents’ house. Carlos.
“He grabbed the gun!” I jerk upright. And then pain blooms in my shoulder, forcing me to sink back down into the mound of flat pillows on my hospital bed. Because I know I must be in the hospital. I got shot. But it could have been worse…
“You landed on me.” It’s not a question; Drake launched himself on top of me and the bullet went through my shoulder. I have the pain to prove it. Where would the bullet have gone if…
“Mikah!” Urgency fills me with a rush of adrenaline. It courses through my body, racing through my veins and making me feel like I could stand up and run a race. “Where is he, Drake?”
Drake cups my face, stroking me softly with his thumbs as he stares into my eyes.
“Sweetheart…you need to calm down. The bullet that lodged in your shoulder just grazed Mikah. He lost consciousness from shock. He’s okay…but he’s going to have a lot do deal with.”
Relief. I close my eyes as a wave of exhaustion sweeps over me.
Baby…
My eyes fly open again. “The baby! Drake!”
My attempt to sit up sends pain slicing through my shoulder, and the previously steady beeping machines go haywire.
Drake pushes me back down, his hands gentle. “Mea! Calm down, please, sweetheart. The baby—our baby—is fine. You’re both going to be just fine.”
A nurse bustles into the room, shaking her head at me.
“You need to keep your blood pressure stable, my dear. Off to sleep you go.” She uses a syringe to insert medication into my IV.
My eyes lock with Drake even as they begin to droop. “I’m pregnant.”
His chuckle collides with his curse. “Yeah, baby. I got that.”
“You…happy?” I sigh as I lose the battle with my sleepy eyes.
His lips brush against my forehead, my cheek, my nose, my lips.
His voice is the last thing I hear as I drift away.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m the happiest man alive right now.”
Epilogue
Drake
Ten Months Later
The doctors in the hospital after Mea was shot told me that she and our baby are medical miracles.
That our baby shouldn’t have made it through that kind of trauma early on in the pregnancy.
That Mea’s loss of blood should have ended that precious little life.
But that didn’t happen.
I’m more than grateful as I stare down at my daughter.
Mea, sitting across from me at the sidewalk café in Savannah, smiles. “I can’t believe how good you are with her. She loves her daddy so much.”
The little raven-haired beauty in my arms stares up at me, clutching my finger in her tiny fist and gripping it hard.
“She’s so damn tough. Like her mama.”
My eyes meet Mea’s, and the searing need I have to protect this woman, to love her, to make sure she has everything she’ll ever need, still burns strong inside me.
It’ll never fade.
It’s like she can read my expression, because she leans across the table and kisses me. “Still can’t believe we’re meeting your real father today. You ready for this? You never used to talk about your family.”
I grab her hand, lacing our fingers together. Bringing it to my lips, I sigh. “I know. I didn’t know how to, after knowing about your past. I grew up with a mother who only cared about how drunk she could get at any given time. She drowned everything she felt with liquor. My whole life, it was up to me to clean up after her. Or to call around town looking for her. The people in my town knew what was going on; they helped me out whenever they could. But it was tough. She told me that my father left when I was still a baby, and she was alone after that. I don’t think she ever got over it, and drinking was the only way she could deal.”
“I know how that made you feel.” The little wrinkles in her brow that only show up when she frowns appear.
“But it’s not like that anymore. I found my dad. We’ve talked. We’ve Skyped. I’ve e-mailed my little half-sister. And now this is happening. We’re meeting them. And I get to show off my beautiful family.”
“Then I guess we better take a minute and breathe deep, just so we’re prepared.”
Rolling my eyes, I oblige. There’s no point in fighting her on the yoga stuff. We breathe deep for about a minute before I open my eyes.
“We good?”
“Drake?” The deep voice with a southern drawl matching mine causes both of us to look up.
There, standing beside our table, are Richard Walsh and his daughter, Phoebe.
My father. My sister.
I stand, passing my baby girl to Mea.
And then I embrace my father.
Releasing him, I turn to Phoebe. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Her tone is awkward, and she glances down at the ground. At nineteen, she’s still young. This must all be totally weird for her. But after a second, she grabs me in a fierce hug.
“I don’t know how to be someone’s sister,” she whispers. “But I’ll try my best.”
Holding her at arm’s length, I shoot her a smile. “I don’t know how to be someone’s brother. But I’ll fuck up anyone who messes with you.”
“Drake!” Mea’s warning tone grabs my attention, and I turn to her.
“Richard, Phoebe…this is my fiancée, Mea.”
Mea smiles and waves one hand while cuddling our daughter with the other.
“And this”—I wrap my arm around her and gesture toward the cooing baby—“is my daughter, Graylyn. We call her Gray.”
And from the looks of joy and awe in my father’s and sister’s eyes, I know that my daughter is going to receive more love than I ever could have hoped for or imagined. Not just from me and my soon-to-be wife, but from my family as well.
It’s going to be a good life.
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