Page 14 of Rescuing Our Bride

That should give me pause and it would, if not for my mother. Saving her is my priority. Patrick has the ways and means to make that happen.

“Anna, please,” Jax pleads. “Even without this thing between the three of us, and don’t you dare deny we have something because I know you feel it too. There’s no way Mark and I would let you marry Patrick. He’ll hurt you, and I’m not talking about your feelings, Anna. He’ll break you. That’s what men like him do.”

“I know what kind of man I’m marrying.” Obstinance replaces heartbreak. My mind is made up, and I’m not about to change it. Not for them. No matter how much they want me to. No matter how much I want to.

“Stop saying you’re marrying him,” Mark says through clenched teeth. There’s a twitch in his jaw muscle.

“You don’t want me to marry him?” I ask. It’s a baited question and they’re about to take it hook, line, and sinker.

“No,” comes their unified response.

“Even if it means killing my mother?” I thought I hated myself before, but the next words out of my mouth bring me to a new low. “Like Penny?”

The recoil and disgust are instantaneous—not just from them, but from me. I feel sick. This isn’t who I am. I’m not a cruel or malicious person. God, what am I doing? I can’t believe I just said that, threw their foster mother up in their face like that. What’s wrong with me? My stomach revolts. I’m going to lose my dinner.

“Oh, god.” Another heave, and my hand is over my mouth. Abandoning our argument, I bolt for the bathroom and slam the door behind me.

Mark and Jax don’t follow me. They’re in the middle of a heated conversation. I can hear their raised voices, but it’s hard to make out the words over my retching as I heave the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

I’m still dry heaving when I hear footsteps in the hall, followed by a hard rap on the door. “Go away,” I grind out between stomach convulsions.

“Anna.” Mark’s voice rumbles through the solid wood. Three more raps on the door. “Anna, open up.”

“Leave me alone.” Another stomach cramp and more heaving.

“Baby, please.” Jax this time. The doorknob rattles. “Anna, please. If you won’t let us in there, at least come back out here and talk to us. Please.”

Why do they sound so sweet, so concerned? Why aren’t they mad? If someone used my mother to influence me, hurt me, and manipulate me, I would be pissed. Except someone already has. And it’s not the two men standing on the other side of the bathroom door. Patrick’s the one taking advantage of my mother’s condition, of my father’s failures. Of me.

And I’m going to marry him.

Mark and Jax have given up their attempt to get me to open the door. It’s quiet out in the hall. Silent. I can’t even hear them breathing anymore. My heart sinks. They’ve given up. They’re going to let me go. It’s what I want, so why does it make me feel worse? Why do I want them to keep arguing with me, fighting for me to stay? They won’t. I wouldn’t if I were in their shoes. It’s not like I’ve given them a reason to. After all, this was never supposed to be a permanent arrangement for them, and we hardly know each other. They don’t need the kind of trouble keeping me will bring, the trouble crossing Patrick Calhoun will bring.

Knowing I can’t stay in the bathroom forever and that I’ll have to face them eventually if I’m going to leave, I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. After blotting my face with a hand towel, I notice a soft light glowing under the bathroom door.

There’s ringing.

“Hello? Anna? Is that you, sweetheart? Are you all right? Can you hear me? Say something, Anna. If you can talk, please, say something. I need to know you’re okay. Please.” My father’s voice is faint, muffled through the door, and the cell phone pressed against it, but the concern and fear in his voice are clear. Genuine.

“Dad?” I unlock the door, yank it open, drop to my knees, and snatch the cell phone from Jax’s hand. Mark and Jax share a look, something like surprise passing between them, but I don’t waste time processing it. My dad is on the phone, a connection to my mother. A strangled, half sob escapes before I can call for my father again. “Dad, are you still there?”

“Anna.” My name comes down the line with a heavy exhale. My father’s relief to hear my voice is palpable in the sigh. “You’re alive. Thank god, you’re alive. Have they hurt you? What are their demands? What do they want to bring you home? Whatever they want, whatever the ransom is, Patrick will pay it. You know he will. You’re his fiancée. He’ll pay it.”

I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince that a man like Patrick will do the right thing, me or himself. Not that I care. The only thing I care about right now is my mom.

“How’s Mom? Are you there with her at the hospital? Can I talk to her? Please, Dad, put her on the phone. Let me talk to her.” Fresh tears are streaming down my face. My father and I weren’t on the best of terms, even before he sold me off to Patrick, but I’m happy to hear his voice, for any update on my mom that he can give me.

“Anna, oh, sweetheart. Your mother, she…” His voice breaks. He’s crying. I can hear the anguish, the pain.

Oh, god. Oh no, please. No, no, no.

Coughing. Another broken sob. My father clears his throat a couple of times and tries again. “Your mother, she…”

“No, Dad. Please, don’t say it. Don’t say it.” My voice is barely a whisper. If he doesn’t say it, it isn’t real. It isn’t happening. She isn’t dead.

Jax wraps his arms around me, and I don’t fight him when he pulls me onto his lap. Mark is stroking my hair, and I’m vaguely aware the phone is on speaker, and they’re listening.

“She’s in a coma, sweetheart. The doctors aren’t sure…” He breaks off again with another choking sob. “They aren’t sure if she’ll…she’s not…they don’t think she’s going to?—”

---