Page 149 of Inflict

“I’m sorry,” Connor said in a fast rush.

He repeated the words over and over again.

Not just for her, but for the baby, and himself, and the woman he’d been too late to help.

Connor didn’t want his organization attached to skin anymore, it was feckin’ killing him every time another issue came up from a whorehouse, or a trader still trying to do business with the O’Neils, even after he refused to partake in things his father had.

It was killing him.

“He’s very pink,” Evelyn said, “so that’s a good thing.”

“Oh?”

Connor didn’t have the first feckin’ clue about babies, especially brand new ones. He let out a shaky breath, but relaxed the moment he felt Evelyn’s hand touch between his shoulder blades softly.

“What now?” she asked.

“I left a mess; a feckin’ fool to bury, a bunch of frightened women, and the baby’s dead mother to get rid of. I have to make some calls and—”

“He needs formula and diapers, Connor. But especially formula, tonight, to eat. A seat to drive safely in the car. Something to sleep in, though we can make due tonight. He needs to see a doctor—a safe one for us, given the situation, you know—so I need you to call Dr. Jensen to come here first thing in the morning at the latest to make sure he’s okay. He’s more important.”

Connor leaned over the counter, resting there with his arms over his head as his trembling increased. “I’m sorry, love.”

“Don’t be. We’ll figure it out.”

Would they?

He didn’t know how, when he had just flipped their whole world upside down.

“He needs a name,” Evelyn said.

“God, lass, that is what you want to do right now?”

“I’d like to call him something, Connor.”

“Whatever you want, Evelyn.”

“Declan,” she murmured. “I’d like to call him Declan.”

Of course, he thought.

For her father, a man who had taken her in as a baby, no questions asked, and named her after his own mother.

Full circle.

Life was just making its rounds again.

Connor turned fast on his heel, reached out to grab his wife by the back of her neck, and brought her in close enough for him to hug and kiss her forehead. Evelyn sighed into his kiss, and the bundled up, bloodstained baby between them finally stirred, crying softly until Connor pulled the fabric away enough to expose his tiny, sweet face.

“Hi, there,” Connor said. “You made for an interesting night, lad.”

The baby stared up at him, hazy eyed and confused. Seemed without even asking, needing, or wanting one, Connor had somehow gained another child overnight. He wasn’t sure how to do this parenting thing—wasn’t even sure he was a decent father to the child he already had, but damn, he didn’t have much of a choice now.

Besides, Evelyn kept him in line.

“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” Evelyn asked.

Connor shrugged. “You’re crazy with me.”

She didn’t even deny it.

It was true.

At least they had each other to be crazy with.

That was love.

The only kind of love he cared to know.