Tank: Kings of Denver (Book 4) Page 8

  “I’ll call the doctor,” Tank says as he puts the cup back down.

  “Wait,” I whisper. His eyes come back to me with concern. “What happened?”

  Regret fills his features as he takes his seat and gently takes my hand in his. “Babe,” he starts in a soothing voice. “You were attacked.”

  The second he says the word ‘attacked’ it all comes rushing back with a force as great as being hit by a freight train. Holy shit. Christian Baxter. The men. The fists. The kicks. My baby.

  I let out a gasp but Tank continues. “We think it was a home invasion. Miller checked out our place and it’s completely trashed. The cameras were wiped so we can’t even catch the guy,” he explains.

  I start shaking my head as tears begin falling. I try to sit up but Tank is right there pushing me back down. “No, you need to stay still,” he tells me. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “No,” I cry as something suddenly occurs. I try to lift my hands but they just won’t move. Why won’t they move? “Our son?” I question him as I haven’t felt him move inside me since I’ve been awake.

  Tanks eyes fill with sorrow as he looks to me. His head begins to shake and I can feel what the next words out of his mouth are going to be but I don’t want to hear it. I can’t. “No,” I cry. “No.”

  “Babe,” he whispers as he reaches forward an wipes a tear from my eye. “He didn’t make it.”

  My whole world comes crashing down around me and suddenly the pain my body is going through seems like nothing, in fact, I’d go through it all over again just to get him back.

  The tears come streaming down as the sobs begin. Tank leans forward and does his best to hold and comfort me but it’s not that easy in this hospital bed.

  How could my little boy be gone? My sweet angel just taken from this earth before he has even had a chance to live.

  My heart is absolutely shattered and I know for a fact this is something I will never be able to live past. Never move on from. How am I supposed to go on from here?

  I can’t help but think this is all my fault. I just had to insist on investigating Baxter and look where that got me. Due to my selfishness, my son is gone.

  My actions are what have caused Tank to lose his little boy. How will he ever forgive me? He thinks it was a home invasion but when he realises it was Christian Baxter’s thugs he will know it was me. My fault. My carelessness. When he realises the truth he will hate me and if he doesn’t, he should, the very sight of me should repulse him.

  Hell, I’m repulsed by myself.

  If only I had listened. If only I had backed off when he asked me to. But no, I had to chase another damn story for my own selfish desires. I should have been concentrating on my son, on making sure he was developing correctly, making sure I was eating the right things and getting enough sleep and exercise. Focusing on becoming a new mother.

  But no that will never happen. I’ll never get the chance to be the mum I want to be and what’s worse is that I have robbed the chance for Tank to become the father he has always desired.

  All because I was chasing down a fucking criminal. A criminal with crimes that don’t even have anything to do with me.

  What the hell have I done?

  I don’t know how long I stay awkwardly wrapped in Tanks arms but I do know that I don’t deserve it. There is a light rap at the door and suddenly a doctor is making his way in.

  “Ahh, good,” he says in a soothing tone. “You’re awake.”

  Tank pulls back from me to allow the doctor to come forward. He does a quick examination before jumping into a recap of my injuries but to tell the truth, I don’t hear a word he says. What does it matter anyway? I’m nothing without my son.

  He asks me how I’m feeling but he doesn’t get a response, only looks to Tank for confirmation who lets him know he has just told me the extent of my injuries, in other words, broke the news to me that I killed my baby.

  The doctor gives him a nod before upping my morphine and exiting the room.

  Tank and I sit silently in the hospital room with my hand firmly in his. The morphine makes me feel sleepy but I know I need to tell him first. I need to admit to him that it was my fault and hopefully he will be able to forgive me but if anything, I know he should leave, especially after what I’ve just taken from him. The pain my actions have caused.

  He should find someone worthy of him, someone who would be able to give him a child without risking its life. Someone who is nothing like me.

  I let out a deep breath as I prepare to ruin our marriage. As much as I wish it weren’t true, I just don’t see how he will ever forgive me for this. “I have to tell you something,” I whisper as the shattered pieces of my already broken heart start to quiver.

  He looks up to me with concern as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “What is it, babe?” he asks, noticing the fear that laces my voice.

  My eyes travel down, unable to look at him as I come clean. “It wasn’t a home invasion,” I tell him.

  “What do you mean?” he questions, sitting forward and searching my face for some kind of answers.

  At this, I finally look up to him. “It wasn’t a home invasion. It was Christian Baxter.”

  His eyebrows pull down in confusion. “Christian Baxter?”

  I nod my head ever so slightly. “I’m sorry,” I cry. “He buzzed the gate and I didn’t look before I pressed the button. Then he was at the front door with two men. He barged his way in and said he knew what I was doing. This was my warning to stop.”

  He lets go of my hand and I see the fury beneath his eyes. Those eyes that are usually warm are dead now, filled with anger and rage.

  Tank gets up from his chair and starts pacing the room. He stops and looks at me as his lips pull into a tight line. He lets out a huff before starting his pacing again. “Fuck, Sophie. I told you not to,” he roars.

  The tears pool in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I tell him on a sob.

  He scoffs at my pathetic excuse for an apology and so he should. From there, he doesn’t say another word and once again we are left sitting in absolute silence, though, this silence feels different, painful… final.

  It could be minutes or it could be hours but eventually, a head pops into the room and I instantly burst into tears. Dani comes rushing into the room as she desperately tries to hand Mia off to Miller. She climbs on the side of my bed as best she can and holds me as we both cry for my son.

  ----------

  “Sophie,” Tanks voice says over the cloudiness of my nightmare.

  My eyes spring open to find Tank standing above me, only he isn’t alone. Detective Andrews stand by his side, trying to look as intimidating as ever but I’ve known the guy for ages and he just can’t pull it off, well not with me anyway.

  “What’s he doing here?” I question Tank, after all, he knows just how much I hate this guy.

  From the look on Tank’s face, I already know what he is going to say. “You’re going to hand over your investigation to Detective Andrews. You have no place looking into this further.”

  “But,” I start.

  “No. Sophie,” Tank cuts in. “There are no buts here. We’ve already lost our child. You’d be a fool to pursue it any further. I’m not going to let you risk your life for this guy. It’s not worth it.”

  I hear what he is saying and I completely get where he is coming from but now this thing with Baxter is personal. He came into my home, he ordered those men to touch me, he was the one who put me in this hospital and caused the death of my son.

  The second I woke up in this room, the need within me to continue this case instantly tripled. I want nothing more than to nail this bastard. I want to be the one who puts him away. I want to watch as his scrawny ass is handcuffed and put behind bars and I want him to know that I was the one who took it away from him. I was the one who nailed him. I was the one who took everything he cares about away just as he has done to me.

  I look up at my husband with tears in my
eyes. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I need to see him put away.”

  “I’m sorry, Soph,” he says. “There’s no choice here. I’ve watched you do this job against my better judgment and now look at you. You need to let this one go. Let the cops do their job. They’ll get him.”

  I know he is right but coming to terms with reality sucks, like really sucks. I let out a breath and slowly nod my head as my eyes leave Tanks and look solely down at my hands.

  How many pieces of myself do I need to lose?

  “Hey, Sophie,” Detective Andrews says, stepping forward and carefully sitting on the edge of my bed as to not jostle any of my injuries. “What have you got?”

  With a sigh, I let it all out. “Christian Baxter was behind the deaths of Marco Cincinnati, Phillip McDonald, and Andrew Taylor. All his major competitors.”

  “And you have evidence against your claim?” he asks.

  “Bits and pieces,” I tell him. “I have evidence that he anonymously bought shares in the three companies, all with clauses that in the case of the death of the founder/owner, the shares will go to him which as all the CEO’s were also the founders means Christian is now the major shareholder in all the companies.”

  Detective Andrews eyebrows shoot right up into his hairline. “Wow,” he murmurs. “That’s good but doesn’t actually pin him to the crime.”

  “I know. I have his planner as well which puts him in the city on each occasion with no alibi.”

  “Ahh, see that I can work with,” he says.

  I give him a curt nod and tell him exactly where he can find the information. He thanks me as he gets up off the bed and Tank hands him the alarm code and keys to our home, trusting him enough to go in and get the information for himself.

  He is just making his way out the door when I call out for him, “Andrews.”

  He turns at my voice with a raised eyebrow. “I want him to go down for all of this,” I say indicating down my body.

  “You know it’s not that easy,” he reminds me. “Do you have sufficient evidence?”

  I look to Tank. “There’s the surveillance, right?”

  He shakes his head ever so slightly. “It was wiped,” he tells me.

  “What about the backup? Doesn’t the company we use keep the footage for thirty days?” I ask as I remember a specific dirty joked I’d made when we first got it put in. though, we had always had it installed because of Tank’s crazy fans. Who would have ever thought that this would be the reason it was used.

  “It’s possible. I’ll give them a call,” he says.

  At that he nods towards Detective Andrews who then makes his way out of the room, leaving me feeling completely empty. First, my son is taken from me, my husband hates me and now my job.

  I know I have Dani and Miller and of course my family. But even with Tank in this very room, I have never felt more alone in my life.

  Tank clears his throat to gain my attention. “I’m going to go organise for home care,” he tells me, hardly managing to meet my eyes.

  “Ok,” I murmur as I watch him walk towards the door.

  He stops by the door and looks back at me. “I made Captain, by the way,” he says with a depression underlying his voice. With that, he steps through the threshold and leaves me be.

  Fuck. I really am the most selfish bitch around.

  Chapter 11

  Tank

  I’ve had Sophie home for a week and to say things have changed is an understatement. She’s nothing but a shell of the woman she used to be. She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep and she hasn’t said a word. Just lays in our bed looking at the wall as Gretchen, the home care nurse fusses around her.

  I’ve walked in a few times to catch her crying as she cradles her stomach, the stomach which no longer houses our son. The sight tears me apart each time and there isn’t a lot I can do about it. The anger boiling inside me has kept me away from her, I don’t trust myself not to lose my shit and I know that’s the last thing she needs to see.

  She probably thinks I blame her which honestly, I won’t lie. I’m furious that she decided to take on this case during her pregnancy, especially after I asked her not to. She should have been home, preparing to be a mother instead of chasing down criminals. But asking her to stop is like asking her not to be herself, it was selfish for me to ask her to stop in the first place and I should have known she would say no. I just can’t stop thinking ‘what if’.

  Being an investigative journalist is her passion, it’s one of the things I love about her and despite my better judgment, I hope she has it in her, once this is all finished to get back out there and fight for what’s right.

  The real reason for my anger lies with Christian Baxter. That bastard caused my family absolute heartache and I’m sure he has caused the same for many others. It was his crimes that started this. It was by his word that my wife was beaten to within an inch of her life and it was his doing that caused my son to die before he had a chance to live.

  Making Sophie hand over her investigation was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Watching her take Baxter down would have been the sweetest revenge, right along with me getting my hands on him but I knew deep down, I needed to do what was right for her. I know she doesn’t see it that way, that I was taking something away from her and maybe I was, maybe I’m being selfish but the thought of identifying her in the morgue just doesn’t sit well with me.

  That man will never take another thing from me again. Not if I have anything to do with it.

  My hope for Detective Andrews to nail the bastard has started dwindling… a lot. He called me the day after the hospital visit to say that all the evidence Sophie had collected was taken from our home, the paperwork she had printed, her computer, her phone, any electronic device that may have held the information. Gone. He then went on to say they visited her office which had also been ransacked. Not one ounce of information on Christian Baxter was there, not even her phony article.

  So Detective Andrews has been unable to do a damn thing. He can’t get a search warrant for Baxter’s office as he doesn’t have any evidence to back it up. He then interviewed his P.A, Aimee, who confirmed he had an alibi for everything, including the time frame where he was at my home, taking my son’s life.

  We were able to recover the footage of Baxter barging his way into my home which confirms Aimee lied about Baxter’s alibi, but doesn’t help them to nail the charges on him as there is no footage from within the house which means it’s Sophie’s word against his, it also shows Sophie had opened the gate for them once the buzzer sounded and also shows her voluntarily opening the door.

  And as Baxter’s dodgy-as-fuck lawyers stated, there is no evidence to show that other occupants were in the house which is a cause for reasonable doubt, so naturally, the fucker got away with it.

  Though, after a few words from me, Detective Andrews promised he won’t give up, after all, he knows Sophie’s success rate and he knows she is always right about this shit so he doesn’t want to lose out on the glory of nailing the guy.

  I’m just getting myself ready for the first official training session of the season, though, to tell the truth, I’m not exactly that pumped about it. I know I should be as this is my first training session, officially being the Captain but I just can’t bring myself to the level of excitement that’s required.

  I know things haven’t been great between me and Sophie with me being angry and Sophie grieving for our son but with her injuries and the fact that the cops are digging into Baxter, I’m petrified that something could happen to her, that he will come back and finish the job, blaming her for passing the information on and I’ll be fucked if they come back here again and I’m not there to kick that mother fuckers ass.

  I head into our bedroom and gently sit on the edge of the bed being careful not to jostle her as I know she is still in a great deal of pain, though, she wouldn’t admit to it. It’s almost like she feels she deserves it which is just ridiculous. As she feels me besid
e her, she slowly opens her eyes. I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, though all that does is make her look away.

  I let out a sigh. “I have to go to training,” I tell her.

  She gives the slightest nod of her head. “Ok,” she murmurs giving me nothing else.

  Damn. I was hoping that might have pulled at least a smile from her, but as usual, nothing.

  “Alright, well, I’ll see you later.”

  She gives another nod as her eyes focus past me and on the wall behind, right where they always stay whenever I’m around.

  I get up and make my way to the bedroom door, turning back when I’m nearly at the threshold. “I love you, Sophie,” I remind her.

  At that, she finally looks up and I see tears pooling in her eyes. Those beautiful eyes of hers land heavily on me. “You shouldn’t.”

  I turn to look at her face on. “Don’t say that,” I beg her as I walk forward towards her again. I drop to my knees beside the bed and take her hand in mine. “I love you,” I repeat. “I don’t blame you for what happened, you must know that.”

  She doesn’t answer, just lays there with tears in her eyes. Once again, I lean forward, though this time, I press my lips to hers and wait. She makes me wait a few agonising seconds before her lips press back against mine. I bring my hand up and run my fingers down the side of her face. “I have to go,” I murmur. “If you need me, I’ll come straight home, ok?”

  She nods her head and I wipe those tears from her eyes. “I won’t be long,” I say before getting up and heading out of the room.

  I make my way around the house, collecting all my hockey gear before coming to the front door. My heart shatters as I close it behind me. I want nothing more than to be home with Sophie, grieving with her and making things better but unfortunately, that’s just part of being a professional athlete. I have no choice unless I want to lose my contract.

  I get in my truck and sit in silence before starting her up. I pretty much drive the speed limit, trying my hardest to prolong the inevitable. Shortly after, I pull up at the ice rink and am not surprised to see the ocean of fans waiting outside the doors, trying to get a good look at their favourite player on the first day of training.