Chapter 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

DRAVEN

Baby?

What the hell… oh, shit.

It takes my mind a wee bit to catch up with what they're talking about. Maeve's bairn. Dillion.

"He belongs to her," I say, pointing at my sister.

"Sludge, get everyone who is staying on the boat into a stateroom and lock them in. Post someone at the door so we don't have any squirters. And send Doc come down here to help me with Draven's sister and Tavish."

Sludge?

The guy mutters under his breath and walks off, calling over the mic for someone named Doc. I assume they're nicknames, because they've been very cautious about divulging any information about themselves, but it's the first time I've heard Ghost mention anyone by any kind o' name.

Sludge disappears up the stairs and Tavish turns back to me, burying his face in my vest. He makes an aggravated sound in the back o' his throat. I pull open the straps on the vest. As soon as I pull it over my head, he's buried in my chest, arms around my waist.

I want to relish the feel o' him against me and relief he's alive, but every time I do, I catch sight o' my poor sister, laying in a pool o' her own blood, her sightless eyes staring off toward the stairs. It's a morbid sight. One I ken I'll never unsee.

Footsteps sound on the metal stairs, and I move to push Tavish behind me, but the boots and tactical pants on the person's legs relax me. As he slowly descends the steps, a bairn comes into view in the person's arms just before we get a glimpse of the person's face. It's someone I recognize from the boat ride from the castle out to the ship.

"Hey, boss, Sludge said you needed me. My hands are a little full at the moment. What do you need?"

As Doc walks closer, I can see the swath of blond hair on the bairn's wee head. He cannae be very old. Doc is holding a bottle for the wee one, and the bairn's tiny hands are gripping it.

Tavish turns at the sound o' the guy's voice and he gasps, "He's so little."

Doc replies, "I'd put him in the ballpark of eight months, maybe a little more or a little less."

Jesus fucking Christ!

I watch the guy stare down at the bairn with a small smile on his face, and I'm at a loss. I dinnae have a clue how or what I'm gonna do with the wee one. Being gay and active in the lifestyle both Simon and I enjoyed, a bairn and parenthood hadnae been on the radar for either o' us. I had hoped to find Maeve and let her offspring be my heirs.

Tears roll down my face as Ghost's movements draw my attention back to my sister. She's on one side o' the room, and the bairn is on the other, with Tavish and me standing between them. I ken this wee lad will change my life forever, just as the boy in front o' me has.

I drop a kiss on Tavish's head, then ask, "May I?" as I reach for the bairn. Doc hands him over, helping me settle the lad in the crook o' my arm. Tavish looks at him from where he stands at my elbow.

"He's cute," Tavish whispers.

There's something on his face I can't place. I ask iffn he's okay, but Ghost interrupts my train o' thought, saying, "Doc, check the boy out. He's got a gash on his head and there're more bruises, cuts and scratches under that shirt that could do with a looksee."

Tavish shrinks back behind my shoulder subtly. The tiny step behind me gives away his fear and insecurities. I squat down so we're eye to eye.

"Let him check ye over, min kara. Daddy needs to ken yer okay. I'll be right here."

He stares into my eyes and I watch the floodgates open in his, but he sucks in a large, deep breath and nods.

I kiss his forehead, whispering, "Good boy."

He beams. It's nae anywhere close to the wattage I'd received before Samuel snatched him, but it's enough for today, given our situation.

Doc pulls some sort of stool from the pack on his back and sits Tavish on the floor between his thighs. The seating arrangement makes the hair on the back o' my neck stand on end as the ugly green beast rears his head.

"Have ye ever burped a baby?" Doc asks, his eyes glued to Tavish's head, as he looks over the wound on the boy's head.

It takes a bit to realize he's talking to me. When I do, he walks me through the process while he continues looking over Tavish's wounds.

"Okay," he says, "all things considered, the only thing I can see without a more thorough exam is the head lac needs closed. Do you know when it happened?"

A blank stare covers Tavish's face, and he dinnae seem to have heard the man, so I answer for him. "Nae long. It happened when his head smacked the stairs. He pulled Tavish down them by his ankle."

Doc hums before saying, "Then I don't have a problem glueing that back together. If Tavish is okay with that?"

Tavish disnae respond. It disnae seem like he even heard the man. I step forward, putting a hand on Tavish's shoulder. That was a mistake. The dissociative state he was in kept him from kenning who it was that touched him, and he lashed out.

"Noooo!" he screams as he punches and kicks at first me, then Ghost and Doc, who step in to help me with Tavish and the bairn.

Ghost wraps Tavish up in his thick arms. They circle the boy's arms, pinning them to his side, as he holds Tavish up in the air.

Doc attempts to talk to the boy, but he kicks out at him, catching Doc in the chin with his heel. The man's chin splits open, gushing blood down his front. I pull him away from Tavish before the lad can land another blow.

"Here, take the bairn," I say, passing the wee one off to Doc.

The man does as I ask, handling him with care while pulling gauze from the kit in front o' him to press to his chin.

"Lilla du, yer going to hurt yerself," I say as I approach, but he disnae hear me.

He continues to thrash in Ghost's hold and I say, "Let him go."

Ghost looks at me as if I'm insane, saying, "It's your funeral." He lowers Tavish until the boy's feet are on the ground before loosening his arms and letting Tavish go.

The minute Tavish is free, he bolts, running toward the bow o' the boat, stopping when he realizes he's pinned in. I catch up with him easily. My heart breaks when I glimpse the boy's eyes. The wild, frantic look in them and the way they dart around remind me he's been traumatized, so I approach slowly. Nae, liking my options, I grab him by the throat, pinning him to the wall. His hands come up to the one holding him in place, scratching and digging at my skin, leaving claw marks behind.

Ignoring the bite of pain and the burning as my skin rips, I lean into him, pushing his head to the side with my own, and whisper in his ear, "It's me, pojke. It's Draven. Daddy's here now."

I pull away to watch his face and, to my relief, realization blooms in his gorgeous eyes and he crumbles into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He's trying to talk to me, to tell me something, but I havenae a clue what he's saying to me.

I carry him back to where Ghost and Doc are, barely noticing Maeve's and Samuel's bodies arenae there anymore. I sit on the stool, and Doc hands the bairn to Ghost, who looks even more uncomfortable than I felt when Doc handed the wee thing to me.

"Tavish, Doc is going to close the cut on yer head. Okay, lilla du? Just hold still. Daddy has ye."

The boy flinches when Doc touches him, but settles when I make shushing sounds in his ear. His hands sneak up around my neck, squeezing it tightly. I'm sure Doc is having a time o' it, but he says nothing.

After a minute or two, Doc steps away and says, "All done."

"Daddy, can we get out of here? I wanna go home."

I glance at the guys and they both nod.

"Absolutely, min kara."