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But still, who the fuck would do this? Do they know that we had two women inside, one of whom is pregnant?If they do, they’re sick fucks, and they deserve to die. When my eyes meet Dally’s, I see the same conviction there.
“The house is clear,” a fireman says as he approaches, fully decked out in his fire-retardant gear. “Surprisingly, there’s no smoke damage, though your porch is finished, and that front door will need replacing. But you should be okay to spend the night if you want. Not sure I would recommend it, though.”
“Why not?” Starla asks.
“Based on the way the porch was burning, I would guess someone poured some kind of accelerant on there and lit it with a match.” The firefighter shook his head. “Someone probably did it intentionally, based on how quickly it went up in flames.”
“Thanks,” I say, reaching out to shake the firefighter’s hands.
After the fire department leaves, I sigh heavily. “Let’s get back inside. Dally, call the boys. I want eyes on this place tonight. Looks like we have another place for them to guard until we straighten this out.”
Dallas nods. “Good thing we have Philip’s boys to round out the crew. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have anyone to keep the business running.”
I nod in agreement, but my thoughts are miles away. We need to figure out who’s doing this and fast. If I can’t get it under control, our new club might crumble before we have a real chance of getting it on its feet. And more than that, I don’t want to see this escalate to something that ends up putting Winter’s life or our baby in danger.
16
Winter
We haveour next doctor’s appointment for the baby the following day, and I’m completely exhausted by the time we get there, after a sleepless night and a day of work at Honey Bee’s. Gabriel still looks like some kind of grotesque piñata, with his purple bruises and the laceration in his head that almost seems to smile now that the staples have been removed. But he insists on going, so after work, we get into Ruby and make our way there.
My nerves are frayed as we pull into the parking area of the doctor’s office and go inside. Though I can see it on Dr. Denning’s shocked face, she doesn’t ask a million questions of Gabe she would like to when she sees his battered state. Instead, she simply asks if he’s okay.
“Mending day by day, Doc,” he says with an ironic smile. “What’s on the agenda?” he asks, redirecting the subject as he wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“We’ll be taking a sonogram of your baby so we can do some measurements,” she says with a smile. Gesturing me onto the table, she then turns her back to give me a moment of privacy as she prepares the machine and pulls out the now-familiar bottle of goop to massage over my belly.
I hop up onto the exam table and slide back until I’m resting comfortably. Then I pull my shirt up to my bra and my stretchy waistband down over my steadily growing baby bump. I’m thankful my waist hasn’t seemed to balloon outward yet, obstructing my daily routine to the point where I need someone to tie my shoes for me or help me shave. While I’m starting to get big enough that those are becoming tasks of note, our little girl seems to be holding off on growing long enough to allow Gabe some time for recovery.
Dr. Denning smears the gelatinous goop across my navel and presses the strangely shaped wand to my belly. Moments later, the bright image of our daughter flickers onto the screen. I can see her immediately now, curled into the fetal position. It’s easy for me to make out each of her tiny hands and feet. The swooshing sound of her heartbeat makes my own quicken.
Tears jump to my eyes as a smile spreads across my face, and Gabriel’s warm hands rest on my shoulders as we both watch our baby silently.
“She looks healthy,” Dr. Denning says encouragingly.
She lets the wand wander across my belly, and Gabe and I watch the screen in wonder for a few moments more. That’s our baby, and she looks so perfect.
“I’ll print this image out, and then we need to run a few more tests,” Dr. Denning says.
She makes quick work of taking my blood along with checking my vitals, then she slips from the room, leaving Gabriel and me a moment to ourselves as I clean up my belly.
“We need to start thinking about baby names,” he says, his tone filled with wonder.
It makes my chest fill with joy. I love how invested he is in the whole thing and how determined he is to have this family.
“Baby’s measurements are good,” the doctor says as she enters the room again, her eyes on the charts before her. “Everything indicates you’re pregnancy is perfectly normal, though it looks as though your hypertension is increasing dramatically. You need to be careful about how much stress you’re putting on your body.” Dr. Denning’s eyes flick to Gabriel’s bruised face for just a moment before she gives me a steady gaze. “Try to find ways to relax, destress. I might recommend cutting back hours at work or avoiding activities that give you anxiety until your numbers are closer to normal.”
I nod. “We’ve had a pretty stressful few weeks,” I confess.
Gabriel’s hands squeeze my shoulders encouragingly.
Dr. Denning nods, her eyes understanding. Without another word, she hands me a printout of the baby’s sonogram, and my heart swells at the perfect little image of our baby girl. “I’d like to see you again in two weeks. Remember to make your appointment up front.”
I nod, sliding from the exam table. “Thank you, Doctor,” I say as Gabriel opens the door for me.
In keeping with our tradition, Gabe and I go to the Gelateria after our appointment, and Starla and Dallas meet us there. As soon as I reveal the image of our baby, Starla gasps and coos, taking the picture from my hand to admire the tiny little face.
“She looks perfect,” Starla says with awe.
