In Protective Custody

Max bit out an earthy obscenity. Of all the heartless…

“Signing?” Emily squeaked. The monitor registering her heartbeat beeped faster.

Max’s chest clenched. She’d just regained consciousness, and her condition was still too unstable for them to upset her this way. “This can wait. Emily has to rest.”

“Lydia.” Anthony snapped his fingers. “Give me the papers.”

Joe’s mother sidled past Max with an apologetic grimace and a swirl of exotic perfume as she dug some folded sheets from her purse.

Anthony snatched them from her. “Custody papers for our grandson. If you die, he belongs with us. We’ve lost Joe, but we won’t lose Joe’s son.”

Emily gasped. “Joe’s d-dead?”

The man’s thoughtlessness roiled like lava in Max’s gut, and he squeezed his hands into fists.

“Didn’t your brother tell you?” Lydia asked.

His sister’s eyes found his and filled with tears. The proof of her grief kicked him in the chest, stealing his breath.

The erratic display on the cardiac monitor verified how news of her husband’s death affected Emily. Max didn’t need a doctor to tell him this stress would set her recovery back.

Rage for the Rialtos’ insensitivity exploded inside him like a backdraft. “Get out and take your damn custody papers with you! She won’t be signing anything. Do you hear me?”

“But my grandson—” Lydia sniffed.

“Excuse me, folks.” Emily’s doctor stepped into the room, a frown creasing his brow. “Mrs. Rialto is very weak and needs rest. If I have to, I’ll call security and ban all visitors from her room.” The doctor directed a hard look on Mr. Rialto. “No exceptions. Do I make myself clear?”

Anthony stepped away, glaring a menacing challenge to Max. “Don’t think this is over, Caldwell. Whether or not she signs, we will have that baby. Make no mistake.”

Grabbing his wife’s arm, Anthony stormed from the room, but the chill of his parting threat hung in the air.

Max saw Emily shiver, and apprehension shimmied through him, as well. From the first time he’d met the senior Rialtos at Emily’s wedding, something about the shipping mogul and his kowtowing wife had rubbed Max the wrong way. Something beyond their ostentatious wealth and the man’s condescending attitude. Anthony’s disregard for Emily’s well-being cemented Max’s disdain for his sister’s father-in-law.

Cutting a quick glance to the doctor, who wore a mask of concern as he felt for Emily’s pulse, Max decided he should give the doctor room to work. Pressing a kiss to Emily’s cheek, he excused himself to the corridor.

In the hall, a homicide detective wearing a wrinkled suit and a grim expression sat in a folding chair, waiting for the chance to question Emily about the shooting.

Max’s lungs felt leaden. Rubbing eyes as scratchy as his two-day beard, he struggled for a breath. What in God’s name had Emily gotten herself into this time?

Ignoring the suspicious look from the cop, Max headed to the cafeteria for coffee. He needed time to collect himself before seeing Emily again and another hit of caffeine to get him through the afternoon.

When he returned to her room several minutes later, Emily was unresponsive again. Damn the Rialtos for upsetting her like that! Max gritted his teeth and fought for his composure. He had to stay in control for Emily’s sake.

Even the suggestion that he could lose his baby sister, whom he’d helped raise, knotted his chest and haunted him with sickening dread. She was his only surviving family. He’d do anything, anything to better her chances of recovery. For now that meant serving as watchdog, keeping the wolves who would discourage and upset her away.

He bowed his head and clutched her hand. Please, God, don’t take my sister. I’ll do anything….

“You want me to what?” Max stared at Emily in disbelief, and a prickle crawled up his spine. She couldn’t be serious, could she?

“Take m’baby… Hide ’im.” Emily’s slurred speech indicated how much talking wore her out. She’d wakened again the next morning after a long, worrisome night. For her health’s sake, Max had tried to avoid discussing her in-laws, but Emily would not be swayed. Her pale face and haggard expression showed the degree of her distress.

“Look, nothing’s going to happen to your baby,” Max crooned, hoping to placate her. After witnessing the ill effects of stress and worry on her condition the day before, he knew he had to calm her somehow. Her weak system couldn’t handle the strain.

“I know losing Joe has upset you, but…now is not the time to talk about this. You have to save your energy and get stronger—”

“Max—”

“—so you can take care of your son. Now quiet down and—”

“Lis’n!” Emily winced in pain, and even more color drained from her face.

When she grew eerily quiet, Max’s heartbeat stilled. “Emily?” He patted her hand. “Emily!”

The lids of her soulful brown eyes fluttered open. “Rialtos…dangerous.”

Max frowned. “Dangerous?”

An ominous tension made the air thick. Emily’s face reflected the strain, and her eyes grew dark.

“I…didn’t know,” Emily whispered. The sadness in her eyes pleaded for her brother’s forgiveness and understanding.

A vise-like tightness squeezed his chest. He knew she wouldn’t rest until she’d had her say. Arguing would only waste her breath and his, so he sat in the chair beside her bed and squeezed her hand.

Emily whispered something he couldn’t understand. Max leaned closer. “Say it again.”

“Drugs.”

Drugs? A chill burrowed into Max’s bones.

“Joe was involved with drugs? You mean he used them?”

“No.”

“Then you’re saying he sold drugs or smuggled them or—”

She closed her eyes and dropped her chin slightly. Yes.

Max sighed. “Em, why didn’t you leave Joe when you found out about this?”

Emily raised a misty gaze then looked away.

Because she was pregnant with Joe’s child.

“Em, what—” He snapped his mouth closed and swallowed his questions, his rebuke. Now was not the time to get into whatever poor choices Joe had made. Emily needed to stay calm and concentrate on healing.

“All of…them,” Emily whispered. “Dang’rous.”

“Not now, Em. We’ll talk about this later, once you’re better.”