“Meg, I meant what I said when I came to see you at school. I’d like to be part of the baby’s life. But I’d like to get to know you too. We have time before the baby is born. You can get to know me . . . us,” Lydia said. “You can decide for yourself once you know us better.”
Scott felt Meg’s shock in the stiffness of her body. “I’d like that,” she said softly.
He understood. She had nobody in the way of family. Not like he did. These people were offering her and, by extension, her child, a bond she was lacking. Scott wanted that for her. Just like he wanted her to think of his mother and siblings as her family too. But first, he had to get her to accept him as a permanent part of her life.
With the difficult discussions behind them, they ate and talked about neutral subjects. They asked Meg about her childhood, where she’d gone to college, and learned more about her in general. He watched as she slowly opened up to them, something he knew from personal experience she didn’t do easily.
By the time the meal ended, Meg had relaxed, and Scott had a better handle on the Ashtons. He could honestly say he was comfortable with Meg spending time in their company, not that she needed his permission, he thought wryly.
They walked out the front entrance into the warm sunshine. Scott glanced around, seeing only two valets in green jackets and a taxicab idling not far from where the men would bring his truck.
“Thank you so much for coming. It was a pleasure getting to know you,” Lydia said to Meg, pulling her into an embrace.
Meg hugged the woman, patting her back awkwardly, but in her expression, Scott could see the hope of acceptance, of family. It was everything Scott wanted for her, and he, too, prayed the couple lived up to the promise.
Walter stepped closer, grasping Meg’s hand in his. “You’re a lovely young woman.”
She blushed, that pink flush Scott liked seeing on her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Traitors!”
The shouted word startled everyone.
Scott spun as a man strode forward from the yellow taxi. Meg turned fast, her expression turning to one of horror. “Mike,” she whispered at the same moment Scott recognized him.
The man wore dirty clothes, his hair hadn’t been washed in too long, and his eyes were bloodshot from drugs or alcohol.
“Mike?” Lydia gasped, her face turning pale.
And Walter, who still held Meg’s hand, stared in shock at his son—who had a small revolver in his hand.
Scott reached for and raised his gun without thinking twice, training the weapon on Mike Ashton.
“How could you choose that bitch over me?” Mike asked, the hand holding the gun shaking uncontrollably.
“Calm down, son,” Walter said, dropping Meg’s hand and holding his up in the air. “You’re my child. Nothing changes that,” he said, speaking slowly and calmly.
“Except that baby.” Eyes wild, Mike swung the gun toward Meg and lunged forward, shooting as he moved.
On instinct, Scott fired at Mike, diving for Meg at the same time. Walter was closer and threw Meg to the ground, but his shocked scream told Scott he’d taken the bullet meant for Meg.
“Call 911,” Scott shouted to one of the valets who had ducked behind the small desk where he worked. “And keep everyone else away!”
Scott immediately spun toward Meg, calling her name.
“Fine,” she called out.
Scott began breathing again, everything around them happening at warp speed.
Crying, Lydia rolled her husband off of Meg while Scott kept his gun trained on Mike, who lay groaning on the ground. Blood spread through the man’s shirt, but it looked like the original injury was in the upper right shoulder, a result of Scott’s preoccupation with getting Meg out of harm’s way.
Mike flinched, moving his good arm, and Scott kicked the man’s gun farther away, in case the asshole thought he had a chance of getting to the weapon.
“Come on, honey. Talk to me,” Lydia said to her husband.
“I’m okay.” Walter spoke in a weak voice. “Just my damn arm.”
Scott let out a relieved breath that Walter’s injury wasn’t life threatening. From the corner of his eye, Scott saw Meg rise to her feet, while at the same time, the sound of sirens cut into the silence.
Without warning, Meg barreled into him, wrapping her arms around him tight. “Oh my God, I was so scared.”
Her voice sounded muffled in his shirt, her tears dampening the fabric, and his heart clenched inside his chest. The same heart he’d thought had closed up for good only a short month ago.
“Join the club, baby. If this bastard had shot you, and I was a few feet away and didn’t stop him . . .” He couldn’t finish the thought, nausea filling him at the notion. “How’s Walter?”
“Hurting, but I think he’s okay.”
Two police cars and an ambulance screeched to a halt. The men in blue surrounded Scott, and he placed both weapons on the ground, kicking them toward the police. Though it took a while with Scott no longer being in possession of a badge, the police eventually sorted out the facts.
Mike had been hit in the upper shoulder, and the paramedics quickly stabilized him, then loaded him into the ambulance for the trip to the hospital. With a police escort. He’d soon be read his rights and booked.
Another set of paramedics worked on Walter.
Lydia stepped back to give them room. She headed straight for Scott, her face streaked with tears.
Scott drew a breath before facing the woman whose son he had shot. “Mrs. Ashton . . .”
“Walter and I just had to say thank you.”
“What?” Scott asked, confused.
The older woman stepped forward and hugged Scott tight, taking him completely off guard. “You didn’t kill my son. Thank
