London (International Guy Book 7) Read online

  “Too true, my love.” He leans over and kisses her lips sweetly.

  “Aw,” Skyler whispers, and I nuzzle her temple until she turns her head and looks at me so I can kiss her sweetly too. She smiles wide after the kiss, and right here, in this moment, it puts one of the broken shards of my heart back in place. There are a lot of them floating around that the two of us need to work on putting back together, but I think we’re both up for the job.

  “All right, brother, back yo’ ass up so I can get some sugar from my best girl.” Royce nudges Bo out of the way.

  Wendy reaches a hand to Royce, and he grabs it between his two huge paws. “How you really doin’, girl?”

  She smiles up at him. “They have me on some awesome meds, so right now, I’m feeling mighty fine.”

  “All right, all right, that’s what I like to hear. You took a slug to the chest and yet you’re sitting here smiling those pearly whites at your bros. You amaze me, girl. There sure is no woman on this earth quite like you.” He pats her hand, then leans down and kisses the top.

  “You better believe it!” Wendy sighs and eases back against her pillow. I can tell she’s trying to be happy and outgoing, her normal self, but it’s wearing on her. The woman was shot and had a lung collapse three days ago. She needs the rest.

  “So, when are you gonna get sprung from this chicken coop and come back to work? You know we can’t carry on without knowing when the heart of our operation is back in business, right?” Royce asks.

  “Not soon enough,” she says at the same time Michael responds with “Never.”

  “Huh?” She lets go of Royce’s hand and focuses her attention on Michael. “I’m going back to work, as soon as the doc clears me to.”

  Michael shakes his head back and forth. “We’ll talk about it when you’re back home, safe and sound.”

  Wendy shimmies and winces, turning a bit more to the side. “No, we’ll talk about it now. I am going back to work, Mick. You know I love my job . . .”

  “And that job has put you in danger. You don’t need to work. I have plenty of money . . .”

  “You have plenty of money. You do, Mick, not me. I want to contribute to our life.”

  He cups her cheek. “Cherry, you do, baby. Every day you take care of me, our home, make this shit world we live in bright, but I can’t lose you, and your job—”

  “Is the best thing that ever happened to me outside of meeting and committing to you. These guys are my family now. I can’t leave them. Not when it’s just getting good. I’m now part of a real team . . .”

  “Baby, you’ve always been part of my team.”

  She pats his hand on her cheek. “You can’t lock me up in a gilded cage and hope I’ll stay there. I wouldn’t be happy, and you know it.”

  “Then you can come work for me. I’ll clear out the office right next to mine. You can be my personal assistant. It would be perfect. We could work together, and live together . . .”

  She shakes her head. “No, honey. You love your assistant.”

  “No, I love you, and only you. She will be given a new position. You’ll see. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says with a hope and a prayer, but somehow, I know it isn’t enough. Wendy is a spitfire who never backs down from a challenge. If she wants to stay with IG, she will.

  Bo grumbles and broods in the corner, scowling at Michael. Royce just rubs at his bald head and sighs. Me, with Skyler’s hand in mine and Wendy alive and well, I’m feeling rather optimistic. I’ll let it all play out and see where the dice land. Could be a seven or snake eyes, but only time will tell. My money, however, is on Wendy.

  “Mick, I need something of my own. To contribute to our lives alongside you, not under your thumb and careful watch. I’m not leaving IG or the guys. You’re just going to have to get over this fear you have. Don’t worry, it will be okay. We’ll figure out a way.”

  His face contorts into a tortured expression, eyebrows pinched, lips pursed, but it all melts away under her heartfelt gaze. “Okay, Cherry, whatever you want. You know I can’t say no to you, but don’t be surprised when you end up with a bodyguard.”

  Her eyes light up. “Can I pick him? I would looooove my own personal hot beefcake opening all my doors, driving me everywhere like I’m someone important. Oh! Sky!” She turns to my girl. “Maybe we can share Rachel and Nate! That would be sooooo cool.” Her tone is one of awe and excitement.

  Michael cracks a smile and a chuckle. The first time I’ve seen that man laugh since he rushed into the emergency room three days ago, which, right about now, feels like a lifetime ago. “Your bodyguard will be ex-military, the size of a house, and ugly as sin. I will do the picking, thank you very much.” He leans forward and kisses her. “You try my patience, sweet one.”

  She grins and bites her lip. “You love it.”

  “I love you.” He kisses her again as a man in a white doctor’s coat enters the room.

  “Ms. Bannerman. Your color looks great, and based on the smile on your face, I see that you’re feeling a little better.”

  Wendy smiles at the short man with snow-white hair and spectacles. “I am, Doctor, thank you. I’m sorry I missed you this morning. Last night’s doctor told me I have you to thank for saving my life. Thank you.”

  Michael eases out of his chair next to Wendy and holds out his hand until the doctor takes it and shakes it politely.

  His voice is rough when he says, “Michael Pritchard. Fiancé. I will be making a hefty donation to the hospital in your honor. If you want the funds to go to a specific area, just name it. I am forever grateful for your talent and expertise. You saved my fiancée.”

  The doctor smiles, but it swiftly turns to an expression of sadness. “I’m only sorry we couldn’t save the child.” He pats Michael’s hand and lets go.

  The entire room goes dead silent. Not even the air passing through any one of our lungs could be heard. Probably because every last one of us is holding our breath.

  “What?” Wendy gasps, her hand flying to her stomach.

  “Child?” Michael whispers.

  Oh no. God, please no.

  My stomach sinks, and Skyler squeezes my hand so hard I almost cry out but hold it back. Barely. This isn’t about me, though it feels as though a knife has just been stabbed into my stomach and ripped up, filleting me like a fisherman gutting his catch.

  Wendy was pregnant when she got shot.

  Wendy miscarried her unborn baby.

  Wendy lost her child . . . because of me.

  My stupidity. My fault.

  I should have figured out that Eloise was the one all along. If I hadn’t been so gone over my own pathetic personal woes, I could have worked harder, smarter. Maybe . . . maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Wendy and Michael would be celebrating the knowledge that they were about to become parents instead of learning about the loss of what would never be.

  Jesus. No.

  The doctor looks at Michael, then at Wendy, and back down at the chart. “Did Dr. Lopard not talk to you about this?” His voice is hard and yet sad at the same time.

  Michael simply shakes his head.

  “Um, perhaps we should discuss this privately—” he starts, but Wendy cuts him off.

  “Tell me now. These people are my family . . .” Her words crack as the tears start to fill her eyes.

  “I’m deeply sorry, Ms. Bannerman, Mr. Pritchard. Our records show you were approximately ten weeks pregnant at the time you were wheeled in.” He clears his throat as if it’s hard for him to speak. “Due to the trauma your body sustained from the fall, the gunshot, and collapsed lung, you miscarried. There wasn’t anything we could do.”

  Michael lifts his hands into his hair and spins around before stomping over to Wendy, dropping to her side. Tears run down her cheeks, and her chin is trembling.

  He grips her around the hips and presses his forehead to her stomach. “Get out.” The muffled phrase comes from where he’s hovering over his woman protectively. His
body starts to tremble and quake, the storm inside of him mounting. “Everyone . . . get the fuck out!” he roars, his head still pressing against her stomach, arms surrounding her lower half. She dips her head as the tears fall, and her hands tunnel into his hair.

  The doctor goes out first, and the rest of us follow.

  I don’t realize until I’m standing outside of her room in shock that Skyler is plastered to my front, her hands cupping my cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears I didn’t know were falling.

  “I failed her,” I state to no one and everyone within earshot at the same time.

  “You didn’t. That woman hurt her. You had no part in it.” Skyler’s voice shakes with sadness.

  “Brother . . .” Royce’s voice is hoarse and deeper than normal when he claps a hand to my shoulder. “If you’re at fault, we’re all at fault. We worked the case together.”

  “Yeah, Park, we can’t take on this blame. It’s not ours to take, though it hurts all the same.” Bo clears his throat and rubs at his eyes.

  I close my eyes, but the bright lights of the hospital bouncing off the white walls is burning straight through my retinas.

  “Come on, we all need to get out of here. Give them some time alone. To rest and come to terms with this,” Skyler suggests, and hooks her arm in the crook of mine.

  “I don’t think any of us is going to be able to come to terms with this. Especially them.” I nod to the room where I can still see Michael hovering over Wendy’s form, his back shaking with what I’m assuming are tortured sobs.

  “We all need to go, get out of here. Get some sleep,” Skyler says, emotion coating her tone with a heaviness we’re all feeling.

  Bo huffs. “Screw sleep. I need a fuckin’ drink.” He crosses his arms, the leather practically groaning against the pressure of his muscles underneath.

  “Amen, brother,” Royce adds, running both of his hands down the sides of his face, pressing them together, and resting his chin on the tips of his fingers.

  “Drink sounds right up my alley,” I admit on a weary sigh, the rawness of what we just witnessed squeezing my heart in a painful vise. “Sky?”

  “Where you go, I’ll follow.” She rubs my bicep and kisses me there through my clothes. She nods at Nate and Rachel. “We’re going to hit a bar.”

  Nate groans. “That sounds like fun,” he mutters dryly.

  Rachel, on the other hand, cracks her neck and rolls her shoulders. “Sweet. I’ve been looking for a reason to knock some heads. Let off some steam. Odds are good someone will try something stupid. When booze is involved, there’s always an idiot ready to rumble.”

  “Oh, now this I gotta see. Hot warrior princess, kicking ass and taking down men twice her size?” Bo grins sexily. “I know just the place.” He smirks and moves ahead of the pack.

  “Take it down a notch, killer. That’s my wife you’re talking about,” Nate growls, his jaw tight and his fists clenched, ready to do some serious damage. If I were Bo, I’d be very careful. I’m confident Nate could take down a herd of elephants with one hand tied behind his back. As if on cue, the muscles running the length of Nate’s arms bulge and ripple, and his nostrils flare as a nasty scowl forms across his normally handsome face.

  Bo glances over his shoulder as he struts down the hall and the rest of us follow. “I know. The matching tattooed rings were a dead giveaway. Besides, she’s far scarier.” He gestures to Rachel.

  Rachel cocks an eyebrow and grins. “Yes, yes, I am. You don’t even know the half of it. Now lead the way, sparky.”

  We arrive at Chez Serge, and I start laughing hysterically. Not only is the bar so packed it’s body to body, there’s a giant padded area in the back with a huge mechanical bull in the center. Nate, however, is undeterred by the number of people and has us all going to the bar with him in the lead. Rachel hangs close to Sky, her eyes flicking from person to person, probably assessing any potential threats.

  In hindsight, this is probably a bad idea, coming here with a massive celebrity like Skyler. Though so far, she’s gone unnoticed, but I can tell she’s keeping tucked to my side with her hair falling in front of her face.

  Nate says a few words to the bartender. His face jets up, his gaze zeros in on Skyler, and his eyes widen in his sockets. He nods a few times and disappears behind a door in the back. He returns with a big man who oozes authority. He nods to a roped-off section near the bull. Nate shakes his hand, and we follow him to the section that’s cornered off from a lot of the crowd. I make sure Sky is in the darker corner. I sit to her left, and Rachel takes the chair on her other side, facing the patrons. Nate stands off to the side and crosses his arms, a menacing don’t-fuck-with-me look plastered on his hard face. He is not happy about the decision to go here, but it’s Skyler’s life. She should be able to go where she wants, within reason, as long as she’s safe.

  “Baby, do you feel comfortable here?”

  My girl smiles wide and nods excitedly. “I haven’t been to a packed bar in . . . hell, I don’t remember when. This is awesome!” she breathes into my ear, and hugs me hard.

  Royce and Bo take up the chairs across from us.

  “Drinks anyone? On me?” Bo offers, standing up.

  The man who was behind the bar puts a hand on Bo’s shoulder. “Not to worry, friend. Drinks are on the house.” He nods to Nate, then assesses Skyler. “I’m the manager, Simon. Your bodyguard said you’d be willing to let us take a picture of you outside by the sign upon your exit if we kept things quiet about your presence. I’m very grateful to have you grace my establishment. What can I get you?”

  “Of course I will. And thank you for being discreet.”

  He nods politely, and yet there are stars in his eyes as he rubs his hands together in a nervous gesture.

  “How about Seven and Seven?” Skyler asks, and Simon dips his chin, then focuses on Royce.

  “Whiskey neat. My thanks,” Roy rumbles, trying to be heard over the loud rock music.

  “Beer for me. Whatever’s local,” I say.

  “Same for me,” Bo adds.

  “And you, little lady.” He leans over to hear Rachel better.

  “Water for me and the big guy.” She gestures to Nate, who hasn’t taken his eyes off the crowd.

  Simon moves to go back to the bar when Bo stops him. He gestures to the bullring. “When does the action start?” He grins.

  “Anytime you guys want. I was going to hang back from starting the bull rides, but if you guys are fine with it, I can get it going.”

  Rachel stands and plants her hands on the table. “As long as this section stays roped off from the crowd, we should be fine.”

  Bo grins wickedly, sizing Rachel up. “I bet you can’t last five full seconds on the thing.”

  She smirks. “If I weren’t working, I’d take you up on that bet.”

  Sky pats Rachel’s side. “Oh, please do it!” She claps like a little kid about to receive an entire bag of candy.

  Rachel shakes her head. “I’m here to work, not to play.”

  Sky makes a stink face. “And I want my bodyguard to show up my man’s best friend. You know you want to. Look at him . . . you’ve got to wipe that smug look off his face!” she taunts.

  “No.” Nate’s voice sounds like a threat from across the table.

  Rachel squints and puts her hands on her hips. “You don’t own me . . . ,” she starts, and even I know this is going to be interesting. The words you don’t own me are fighting words in any conversation.

  Nate narrows his gaze. “I believe the matching tattoo on your ring finger and the vows we said a decade ago beg to differ, fireball.”

  She smiles, but it’s one of those wicked smiles a woman gives right before she’s going to cut off a man’s dick and feed it to him.

  Bo rubs his hands together and whistles. “Bring it on. Van Dyken battle! My money’s on Rachel.”

  Nate’s jaw tightens as if he’s chewing on rocks.

  Rachel stares directly in her husban
d’s eyes when she says, “Ride-off, Bo. You against me.”

  “What are the stakes?” He leans back confidently.

  “Whoever loses has to wear a skirt for an entire day. Winner decides when.” Rachel twists her lips into a confident smile.

  “Oh shee-it. I’d like to see that.” Royce laughs behind his hand.

  Nate growls loud enough to be heard over the thumping music.

  “I’m not sure who I’d rather see in a skirt more!” Sky laughs. “Either would be equally awesome!” Her entire face is lit up and glowing with happiness. I’ve missed it so much I want to kiss her hard and deep, so I do.

  She gasps into my mouth, and I take advantage, dipping my tongue in and tasting hers. Our tongues dance, and all too quickly she pulls away with a few pecks on my lips, then turns back around to the drama unfolding at our table. I hook my arm over Skyler’s shoulder and keep her close.

  “You’re on, sparky. Let’s do this. Nate, you’ve got the charge solo.”

  “Obviously,” he grates through clenched teeth, irritation positively dripping off his body.

  She winks at him and saunters over to where the staff are setting up the bull. Bo removes his leather jacket and tosses it over his chair before going after her with equal determination.

  Royce and I pull out our billfolds and each toss a fifty on the table.

  “Hey, I want in on this action.” Sky pouts and dips into her purse, pulls out a fifty, and lays it on the pile. “Who are you guys going for?”

  Both of us answer at the same time, “Bo.”

  Her mouth drops open in what I can easily assume is shock. “No way! I’m going for Rachel! Sister solidarity!” She fist pumps the air and screeches, “Go, Rach!”

  The lights around us dim, and the ring lights up. Bo, surprisingly, goes first. He hooks a long denim-clad leg over the bull’s wide body, grips the handle, raises his arm in the air, and nods at the staff member working the controls.

  The bull starts to buck wildly, and the crowd counts out the seconds. By the third second the bull is rocking madly and Bo’s slipping around but keeping his hold. His body arcs with the bull as the crowd gets to eight seconds before the thing does a superfast jerk to the right and flings him right off. His body goes sailing through the air and lands in a heap across the red padding. He jumps up, raising his hands in the air. The crowd cheers for him. With a smug look, he points at Rachel, his hand in the shape of a gun.