Page 62 of My Omega's Baby
“Where is he again?”
“Texas.” I wiped crumbs from my shirt. “He’s looking after some musician guy.”
She frowned. “Texas? Where in Texas?”
“Austin.”
“Oh, dear. Really?” She stood and headed into the front room.
When she didn’t return after a few minutes, I sighed and followed her. “What are you up to?”
She was searching through a newspaper that was strewn across the coffee table. “I saw something in the paper this morning, but I didn’t really pay any attention because it was all the way in Texas,” she muttered.
“I’m not following.”
She glanced up, her eyes filled with worry. “There was some kind of shooting that involved a singer. I’m sure it was Austin, Texas.”
My stomach dropped and that awful feeling of dread from last night slammed into me. “What are you talking about?” I knelt next to her and started grabbing the newspaper pages. “What section was the story in?”
“I can’t remember. It wasn’t the front page.”
My hands shook as I riffled through the newspaper. Finally I stood and pulled my cell from my pocket. “Forget this. I’m calling him.” The phone rang and rang, and my stomach rolled with anxiety. “Come on, you little bastard, answer your damn phone.” When I got his voice mail, I clamped my jaw and held on to my temper by a thread. I closed my phone and met my mother’s wary gaze.
“He didn’t answer?”
“No. But he’s working. I’m sure he’s fine.” I spoke calmly, but inside my stomach was churning.
“He must know we could have heard about the shooting.” My mom’s voice wobbled. “You’d think he’d call to tell us not to worry.”
“Maybe it had nothing to do with him so he isn’t thinking about it.” I tensed my jaw, stamping down my anxiety. “We’re jumping to conclusions assuming Blade is involved.”
“True.” She sniffed. “Frankly, I’m annoyed with him anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because he flies off into the wild blue yonder and doesn’t even bother to ring you when he gets there? He should have called you simply because you’re the father of his child and maybe you’d like to hear from him when he’s away on a trip.”
I slumped down onto the couch. “Neither one of us knows exactly what our relationship is. I don’t feel comfortable calling him, and he’s probably not sure if he wants to call me either.”
“You’re having a baby together.”
“I know.” I sounded exasperated. “But he’s still kind of standoffish about what he wants.”
“He’s being foolish. If he thinks he can just ignore his fated mate, he’s crazy.”
I sighed. “We have no proof we’re fated. That’s your theory.”
“Right. My theory based on what the Ancients tell me. You two just want to stick your heads in the sand, but that isn’t going to work.” She pounced on a newspaper page. “Here it is.” She looked excited.
I grabbed it from her hands, despite her angry grumble, and read the article title aloud. “Superstar Riley West’s life saved by hunky bodyguard.” I swallowed nervously and continued reading. “Bodyguard Blade Carr was wounded on the job while subduing a violent stalker last night during a fan meet and greet with singer Riley West.”
My mom covered her cheeks and gasped.
“According to police, the unnamed suspect pulled a gun on the singing heartthrob, and his security subdued the attacker without injury to the performer.” My hands shook as I scanned for more details. “What about the bodyguard?”
“It doesn’t say what happened to the guard?”
I scanned the words, my heart pounding against my ribs. “There are no details. Who wrote this piece-of-shit story? You can’t say the bodyguard got shot and not give details.”
