her teeth chattering with intense cold. Cool tile pressed against her cheek. Her mind working with dazed lethargy, she rotated her head, watching the room come into focus. White tile, white cabinet, seashell prints on the white wall, a glass hurricane globe holding a collection of multicolored sea glass.
The bathroom. The tiny bathroom off the foyer.
Memory returned in a flood, and she straightened, a groan slipping past her lips as the pain stabbed behind her eyes.
“Don’t move.” Gentle hands gripped her shoulders, pressing her back against the wall, and Lanie met Beth’s haunted blue gaze.
Beth’s spiky copper hair was wet, plastered around her pale face, a fresh bruise standing out along her jaw. Blood congealed at the corner of her split lip. Pain and fear tightened her delicate features.
At least John hadn’t chosen Lanie because she looked like Beth. The bitter thought flitted through Lanie’s confused mind. Beth’s petite, curvy build was nothing like the tall, slender, athletic frame Lanie shared with her Falconetti cousins.
She could feel her pulse under her skin, the rapid beat unnerving. Lanie pushed the jealousy aside. They had other things to worry about. “Nicole’s safe,” she whispered, glancing at the closed door. “She’s at the hospital. And John’s alive.”
“Thank God.” Beth’s eyes closed, tears sparkling along her thick lashes. She opened her eyes, fingers curving along Lanie’s jaw. “I was beginning to think you were out for good.”
Lanie tilted her head away from the touch. “I—”
“Lanie, were you bleeding before Doug and I got here?” Hands shaking, Beth folded a towel into quarters.
Finding it hard to concentrate on the question, Lanie glanced down, staring at the folded towel between her thighs, the white terrycloth turning crimson. Her gaze followed a trail of scarlet drops on the tile, finding a small pile of blood-soaked towels in the corner behind the door. The reality of what she saw slammed through the fuzziness in her brain. “Oh my God.”
Beth’s fingers gripped Lanie’s chin, forcing her gaze up, away from all that blood. “Focus. How long have you been bleeding?”
“I—I don’t know.”
A low, rough curse hung in the air between them. “Do you hurt?”
Her head pounded, and her lungs ached as if she’d been running. But the bleeding brought no discomfort—not the burning contractions her childbirth classes described. She tried to shake her head, her eyes slipping closed as pain exploded with the movement. “No.”
“Lanie.” Beth tapped her cheek. “Can you feel the baby? Is he moving?”
Lanie flexed her fingers on her stomach. When was the last time he’d kicked or rolled over? “Not right now.”
Beth touched her forehead. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
Disconnected, Lanie watched as Beth pushed to her feet, favoring her left ankle. “He’s going to kill us. What is he waiting for?”
Beth glanced over her shoulder. “He’s waiting for John.”
An image of John’s outraged face rose in Lanie’s mind, sparking a weak, inappropriate giggle. “He’s going to be waiting for a long time. John’s cuffed to his bed.”
“I’m not even going to ask why.” Beth rested her ear against the closed door.
Lanie closed her eyes again. Lord, she was tired. An ache pulsed in the back of her head. Slipping away, into the darkness of slumber, seemed so easy. Slipping away from the reality. “He loves you.”
“Did he say that to you?” Beth’s horrified voice penetrated the fog. “That stupid son of a bitch.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Weak tears slipped beneath Lanie’s lashes, and her hands rested on her stomach. “I’m losing the baby, aren’t I? That’s probably for the best—”
“Stop it.” Beth’s hands closed on her shoulders with bruising force. “Lanie, listen to me. You are not going to lose this baby, and it would not be for the best. You are the best thing to ever happen to
The bathroom. The tiny bathroom off the foyer.
Memory returned in a flood, and she straightened, a groan slipping past her lips as the pain stabbed behind her eyes.
“Don’t move.” Gentle hands gripped her shoulders, pressing her back against the wall, and Lanie met Beth’s haunted blue gaze.
Beth’s spiky copper hair was wet, plastered around her pale face, a fresh bruise standing out along her jaw. Blood congealed at the corner of her split lip. Pain and fear tightened her delicate features.
At least John hadn’t chosen Lanie because she looked like Beth. The bitter thought flitted through Lanie’s confused mind. Beth’s petite, curvy build was nothing like the tall, slender, athletic frame Lanie shared with her Falconetti cousins.
She could feel her pulse under her skin, the rapid beat unnerving. Lanie pushed the jealousy aside. They had other things to worry about. “Nicole’s safe,” she whispered, glancing at the closed door. “She’s at the hospital. And John’s alive.”
“Thank God.” Beth’s eyes closed, tears sparkling along her thick lashes. She opened her eyes, fingers curving along Lanie’s jaw. “I was beginning to think you were out for good.”
Lanie tilted her head away from the touch. “I—”
“Lanie, were you bleeding before Doug and I got here?” Hands shaking, Beth folded a towel into quarters.
Finding it hard to concentrate on the question, Lanie glanced down, staring at the folded towel between her thighs, the white terrycloth turning crimson. Her gaze followed a trail of scarlet drops on the tile, finding a small pile of blood-soaked towels in the corner behind the door. The reality of what she saw slammed through the fuzziness in her brain. “Oh my God.”
Beth’s fingers gripped Lanie’s chin, forcing her gaze up, away from all that blood. “Focus. How long have you been bleeding?”
“I—I don’t know.”
A low, rough curse hung in the air between them. “Do you hurt?”
Her head pounded, and her lungs ached as if she’d been running. But the bleeding brought no discomfort—not the burning contractions her childbirth classes described. She tried to shake her head, her eyes slipping closed as pain exploded with the movement. “No.”
“Lanie.” Beth tapped her cheek. “Can you feel the baby? Is he moving?”
Lanie flexed her fingers on her stomach. When was the last time he’d kicked or rolled over? “Not right now.”
Beth touched her forehead. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
Disconnected, Lanie watched as Beth pushed to her feet, favoring her left ankle. “He’s going to kill us. What is he waiting for?”
Beth glanced over her shoulder. “He’s waiting for John.”
An image of John’s outraged face rose in Lanie’s mind, sparking a weak, inappropriate giggle. “He’s going to be waiting for a long time. John’s cuffed to his bed.”
“I’m not even going to ask why.” Beth rested her ear against the closed door.
Lanie closed her eyes again. Lord, she was tired. An ache pulsed in the back of her head. Slipping away, into the darkness of slumber, seemed so easy. Slipping away from the reality. “He loves you.”
“Did he say that to you?” Beth’s horrified voice penetrated the fog. “That stupid son of a bitch.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Weak tears slipped beneath Lanie’s lashes, and her hands rested on her stomach. “I’m losing the baby, aren’t I? That’s probably for the best—”
“Stop it.” Beth’s hands closed on her shoulders with bruising force. “Lanie, listen to me. You are not going to lose this baby, and it would not be for the best. You are the best thing to ever happen to
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