“The colleague who called said it was about half an hour ago.”
Carter threw off the covers and shot out of bed. He grabbed a pair of jeans that were sitting on a chair. Balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while talking to Sky, Carter put on his pants. “I’m on my way.”
“I just want to reassure you that she’s fine. Just shook up.”
“What happened?” Carter found a sweatshirt and pulled it over his head.
“I don’t have all the details, but it sounds like she was involved in a carjacking. The police are there.”
“A carjacking?! That’s not nothing, Sky. What the fuck was she doing out this late?” Carter’s heart was beating a mile a minute.
“Dunno, but she is a grown woman and well over twenty-one.”
Carter didn’t like that answer. “It’ll take me twenty minutes to get to the hospital from here.”
“Do the speed limit and call me if you need anything.”
Carter couldn’t promise the former but would do the latter. “Thanks.” He disconnected the call.
Elaina frowned as she raised up on her elbow. “Let me guess, Harlem?”
Oblivious, Carter missed her irritated tone. “Yeah. She’s at the hospital. They say it’s not serious, but I’ve got to go.”
“Do you?”
He stopped in mid-stride. “What?”
“Do you really have to go if it’s not that serious?” Elaina asked. “I’m sure if Harlem needed you, she would call.”
“Did you hear me? She was involved in a carjacking.”
“Yes. But you also said that Harlem is fine.”
Ignoring whatever Elaina’s concerns were, Carter grabbed his wallet from the nightstand. Before rushing out of his bedroom, he turned to her. “I need to see that for myself.” He paused for a long moment. “I hope you understand, considering . . . Harlem is pregnant with my baby.”
Chapter 2
“Ma’am, again, can you think of anything else that might help us recover your car?” The officer paused from writing in his notepad. He and his female partner studied a shaken Harlem Thomas for her reaction.
She had a low-grade headache. Harlem never would have thought a run to the store for some black walnut ice-cream would lead to a trip to the emergency room. She hugged herself as she sat on the edge of the bed. “It all happened so fast. I’ve already told you everything. I can’t remember any other details.”
“Are you sure?” the female cop asked again.
Harlem’s nerves were shot. She understood that the police had a job to do, but they had asked a variation of the same question over the past thirty minutes. Frustrated, she snapped. “If I knew more, I would tell you!”
In Harlem’s mind, it was only a car. Granted, the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren was a really nice car, but still just a piece of metal. Unlike people, it could be replaced. She was exhausted and just wanted to go home.
“Were you able to make out the color—” The cop wasn’t allowed to finish his sentence.
The stern voice of Carter Owens echoed throughout the room as he strode inside. “I think you’re done. Ms. Thomas said she doesn’t remember anything else.”
Dear God. The very last person Harlem wanted to see was standing not five feet away. Briefly, she closed her eyes and made an exaggerated display of rolling her head around her shoulders.
Dr. Baker, who was the attending physician, had followed Carter into the room. He backed Carter up. “I agree. Ms. Thomas has been through enough for tonight.”
Reluctantly, the officer nodded and handed Harlem his card. “If you remember anything else, just give me a call.”
Harlem reached for the little slip of paper. “Will do.” She watched the officers walk out of the room. Once they were gone, Harlem turned to the doctor. “Can I go home now?”
He pushed his glasses up from the tip of his nose and studied her chart. “You might be a little sore tomorrow and have a bit of headache from the blow you took. If so, feel free to take a couple of Tylenol. Otherwise, I didn’t see anything from your examination that would cause alarm. Just remember, you’re only eight weeks along, and your pregnancy is high-risk. If something doesn’t feel right, call me. If you can do that, then yes. You can go home.”
Carter spoke for her. “She will.”
Harlem glared at him as she told the doctor. “I will.”
“Great.” Dr. Baker looked at Carter. “Can I assume Mr. Owens is going to take you home?”
They both responded at the same time.
“No.” Harlem vigorously shook her head.
“Yes.” Carter was firm.
Dr. Baker smiled inwardly and cleared his throat. “I’ll let you two figure it out.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Harlem said as she shook his hand.
“You’re very welcome.”
Carter also shook Dr. Baker’s hand and then waited for him to leave. Worried, Carter rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you really okay?”
Harlem’s response was curt. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t but would rather rot in hell than admit it.
His concern came off as angry. “What the hell, Harlem?!”
She ignored him and slid off the bed. Harlem picked up her clothes that sat at the end of it and walked into the bathroom. The closing of the door was loud, and so was the clicking sound of the lock.
Carter glanced heavenward. Is this my fuckin’ karma for all the shit I’ve done? Harlem was the most irritating woman he’d ever met. He was caught between being worried to death and wanting to kill her. Instead of overreacting, Carter tried to calm down before she came out of the bathroom.
After what felt like an eternity, Harlem finally emerged with her cell phone held up to her ear. “Yes. Please have the Uber pull up to the entrance by the emergency room. Thank you.” She disconnected the call.
She had to be out of her mind. Carter was barely keeping it together. “If you think you’re getting in an Uber at almost three-thirty in the morning, you’re crazy.”
Harlem rubbed her forehead in irritation. “It’s late.” She laughed sarcastically to herself. “Actually, it’s early. Anyway, I’m tired, and
