Chapter Eight

Delany

Twenty-four hours later,

Hitting the emergency button over the bed, I watched in horror as Harlow's little body shook uncontrollably. Nothing I did or said could stop what I knew was happening. I'd read all the articles, researched everything there was about the disease. The only thing that would save my daughter was a bone marrow transplant. The problem with that, she was deteriorating faster by the minute.

Her body was too small, too weak to last much longer.

Stepping aside while August ran into the room with several nurses, I tried to stem the tears rushing down my face as they worked furiously to stabilize my little girl. Shaking my head, I slowly walked back until I hit the icy wall and watched my worst nightmare happening right before me.

Grabbing my head, I wanted to scream at them, shout at them to do something, anything, to make her better. She was only a baby. She had her entire life ahead of her. They had to fix her, make her better. I didn't know what I would do if they couldn't.

Harlow was my world. My happiness was all wrapped up in her dainty little body. I was nothing without her. Just a shell of my former self.

Arms wrapped around me as I watched them try to stabilize her. Clinging to the warm body, I stood rooted in my spot. And when her little body finally stopped shaking, if it weren't for the strong arms holding me, I would have fallen to the floor.

"Marco, run another panel. Then call neuro," August ordered before turning to look at me, as Marco nodded.

Walking over to me, August sighed. "She's alive, Delany."

I couldn't speak.

I didn't know what to say.

Words eluded me.

"I've given Harlow something to sleep through the night. We knew seizures were a possibility. I'm going to have the chief of neuro come down and check her out. While I'm optimistic she is fine, I still want his professional opinion. Malice, why don't you take Delany to the cafeteria? She hasn't eaten anything in days."

"I want to stay with her," I whispered.

"Delany, you are going to collapse if you don't get some sleep and food in you. You've been by her side for a week. You haven't left this room. You are no good to Harlow if you get sick, too."

"I'll stay with her," a gruff voice said as I watched the big lumberjack of a man pull up a chair and sit next to my daughter. The man was in his late sixties, for sure, with salt and pepper hair. Wearing jeans and a black henley, I didn't need to ask who he was.

He was one of Jason's friends.

"Let's go," the man holding me said, giving me no choice but to follow him as he grabbed my hand and escorted me from the room.

Following, I said nothing when he led me down to the cafeteria, grabbing a tray and loading it down with so much food I knew there was no way in hell I was going to eat it all. After paying for everything, he walked me over to a table and pointed to a chair.

Sitting, I stared at the tray.

I thought it odd.

Everything on that tray looked good, but I felt no desire to eat. I couldn't remember the last time I was hungry, or tired, for that matter.

Reaching for the apple on the tray, the man leaned back in his chair, taking a bite as he looked at me. I didn't know what to make of the man, but I found him oddly comforting. Covered in tattoos, on the outside the man looked menacing, a danger to society, but anyone with half a brain could tell by looking into his eyes he was a good guy.

"Thank you for the food."

"Thank me after you eat something."

"Not sure I can."

He nodded, taking another bite of the apple. "Can't help your kid, if you can't help yourself."

Sighing, I looked around the cafeteria. Visitors ate, smiled, laughed, talked with others as if they had no clue my world was crumbling around me.

"She's going to make it."

Facing the big man, I asked, "How do you know?"

He shrugged his big shoulders and muttered, "Just do. Kids are resilient."

"You know kids?"

He nodded. "Yep. Prefer them to adults."

Reaching for the bowl of fruit, I picked up a slice of pear and ate it.

"You are friends with Jason, right?"

He huffed. "Storm."

"Why do you call him that?"

"It's his club name."

"What do they call you?"

"Malice."

"Not a very nice name," I whispered before plopping a segment of orange into my mouth.

The man smirked. "It fits me."

"Malice, not that I'm not grateful for the food and company, but why are you here?"

"I volunteered. So did Happy."

"The man with Harlow is called Happy?"

Malice nodded.

"I don't understand," I muttered. "Neither of you know me or Harlow. Yet you volunteered to be here. Why?"

"Because you are one of us."

"I am?"

Malice nodded. "Yep."

"You don't talk much do you?"

He said nothing, just took another bite of the apple.

"Malice. Can I ask you something?"

He looked at me, waiting.

"What did you mean by I am one of you?"

"You're Storm's woman."

"I'm not though. I'm just Harlow's mom."

"And Storm is Harlow's dad."

"I still don't see how that makes me one of you."

"It just does."

I was right.

Malice didn't talk much, and what he did say was confusing.

"Did he say anything else?"

Shaking my head, I leaned back in my chair as Finley paced Harlow's room. With everything going, I still hadn't gotten around to telling the other girls, especially Robin, that her brother was Harlow's father. As it was, I was still trying to come to terms with that myself.

Everything I knew about Jason Calloway was from my friends or what I read about him in the paper. According to the New York Times, the CEO of Calloway Investments was a socialite bachelor who had never had the same woman on his arm twice. Linked to debutants, actresses, and political figures, Jason Calloway was nothing more than a player.

A player who owned the city's most exclusive investment firm and worth billions. We were so far apart; we might as well be from different planets.

He owned a multi-billion-dollar company. I worked as a part-time waitress.

He owned a penthouse at the exclusive Davenport Tower. I rented a studio apartment near Port Authority.

He drove expensive cars and could buy anything. I used subway tokens and could barely afford to buy food.

We were nothing alike.

"Finley," I whispered, looking at my friend. "How did you know where to find him? I mean, how did you know he was the biker I was talking about?"

"He's the only biker I know that has ties to the Bar & Grill."

"Know a lot of bikers, do you?" I smirked.

"More than I'd like," Finley muttered. "Look, Delany, I'm glad that you found Harlow's dad, but in doing so, it has opened a whole new assortment of problems. I know you don't realize it, but when this city learns that Jason Calloway is the father of your daughter, it's going to create a shitstorm."

"Why?"

"For starters, he is a prominent member of society. The rat bastard is always in the papers, going to one event or another. Then there's his legacy. His dad started Calloway Investments, and when he died in the towers, Jason gave up a promising career as a firefighter and rebuilt his father's company from scratch. His name means gold in this city. Everyone seeks his financial assistance to make bank. The man can do no wrong. Then there are his charities. The big one is for the families of the fallen. Every year there is an enormous benefit to raise money for the families of the firefighters that died that day. He is like the all-American poster child for everything good and wholesome, and this city fucking loves him."

"Don't see what that has to do with me. I'm not going to disrupt his life."

"You won't have to, because when the city learns he fathered a child, they are going to dig and dig until they uncover all the dirt."

"You just said he was squeaky-clean."

"I wasn't talking about him, Delany. I'm talking about your father."

"My father is dead. What does he have to do with this?"

Finley pulled a chair close to me and sat. "Look, Delany, you know I love you, and no matter what, I will always have your back, but what do you remember about your dad?"

Confused, I said, "He was a city firefighter during 9/11 who wanted a fresh start and moved to Arizona, where he died in a house fire years later, along with mom. Why?"

"So, you know nothing about the internal investigation?"

"What are you talking about, Finley? What investigation?"

"There was a rumor going around before your dad left that someone opened an investigation into your dad and his firehouse. However, when your dad left, nothing came of it."

"What were they investigating?"

"I don't know. My dad wouldn't say."

"Finley, that makes no sense. My dad was a decorated firefighter."

"I know, but this city never forgets. If the papers get wind that you are Jason's baby momma, it won't be long before someone digs into your past. Like Jason, you will be a hot commodity and society will want to know everything about you."

"I just want to be left alone."

"I know, sweetie, but it doesn't work that way. Not in the Big Apple. Everyone is fair game, and the higher up you are on the totem pole, the more interesting you become."

"I'm nobody."

"You were nobody. Now you are the mother of Jason Calloway's daughter, the heir to Calloway Investments."