Chapter Seventeen

~ Beck ~

"You have the ring?"

Scotty nodded as he pulled a small blue box out of his pocket. He popped the top open and showed me the sparkly diamond ring inside. "One of these days, I'm going to take that ring I gave you and put it on your finger, and once it's there, it's never going to come off."

Scotty closed the blue box and slid it back into his pocket before leaning in for a quick peck on my lips. "Promise."

"I'm going to hold you to that promise."

Scotty's grin nearly made me stop breathing. "You'd better."

"It's time," Jake said as he walked up to us.

I drew in a shaky breath. "Be careful?"

Scotty nodded. "You, too."

I'd be surrounded by people looking out for me. Scotty was walking into the lion's den all on his own.

I leaned forward and rested my forehead on Scotty's chest, and it was such a wide, solid chest, too. I could have stayed there wrapped in Scotty's arms for the rest of my life if someone hadn't rudely cleared their throat.

I sighed and lifted my head, turning to glare at Jake. "Way to ruin the moment, dude."

I heard a small chuckle and Scotty's chest moved against me.

Jake just grinned at me.

I rolled my eyes and stepped back from Scotty. I felt lonely instantly and wanted to step back into him, but I knew I couldn't. I might not let him go if I did.

"You'd better get going," I whispered. "You don't want to be late."

"Yeah." Scotty's voice was low and rough. He didn't sound like he wanted to leave any more than I wanted him to leave.

"I'll see you in about four hours."

"Don't be late." I raised an eyebrow, daring him to disobey me.

"I won't, baby."

Tears sprouted in my eyes and trickled down my cheeks as I watched Scotty walk away. I hastily wiped them from my face and then clenched my jaw.

"He's going to be okay," Jake said. "Scotty's scrappy."

Yes, he was, but he didn't have a vicious bone in his body, and Cynthia had nothing else. Much like Julia. I wasn't sure he could win against her and my sister.

"Your man is in place outside my father's house, right?"

"Men," Jake replied. "Two of my security guards are waiting in a car outside the gate."

Two was better than one I supposed, but I would have been happier with an entire army.

"So, what now?" I asked as I turned to face Jake.

Jake held a bag out to me. "Now, you need to put on your paramedic's uniform."

Oh, right. I'd forgotten that part.

"Is there a bathroom around here?"

Jake pointed to a door off to one side of the large hanger. "Right over there."

I nodded before heading in that direction. Once inside the bathroom, I took everything out of the bag Jake had handed to me. There really wasn't much to it.

It was basically a pair of navy blue cargo pants, a matching navy blue T-shirt, jacket with EMT written on the back in big white reflective letters, and a pair of black lace-up boots.

I'd worn worse.

I quickly pulled off my clothes—except my underwear and socks—and dressed in the clothes Jake had given me. Once I was dressed, I shoved my own clothes back into the bag and then walked out to join Jake, who had changed into a paramedic uniform as well. There were two more guys dressed similarly.

"What do I do with these?" I asked as I held up the bag.

Jake took it and handed it to another man standing behind him. "Go put this on the jet."

Guess that answered that.

Jake glanced down at his watch. "The ambulance should be here any moment." He shot me a small smile when he looked up. "Once we go in, we need to be quick. You just follow me and then help me get Scotty's father loaded on the gurney. Let me do all the talking."

Yeah, I could do that. I wouldn't know what to say anyway. "Okay."

The ambulance drove into the bay about ten long, agonizing minutes later. Jake immediately went up to the driver and started talking to him. I waited until he waved me over.

"Beck, this is Patrick Scotton, an old frat brother of ours."

"Not that old," the man said as he smiled and shook my hand.

"This is Beck, Scotty's husband."

"It's good to meet you," Patrick said. "I'm glad you're getting Scotty out of here. None of us knew how bad it really was." He shook his head, a grimace on his lips. "Scotty doesn't deserve that. He's a good guy."

"He is, and you're right," I said. "Once we get to New York, I'm going to make sure that he has the best life possible."

Jake chuckled, but Patrick said, "I guess he knew what he was doing when he married you."

I certainly hoped so.

Jake and another guy climbed into the front of the ambulance so I climbed into the back with the remaining "paramedic". Jake gave out a few orders to his men through the window, most of which I tuned out, and then we were on the road.

The airport was at least an hour from the Prescott family home—with good traffic—which might be one of the reasons why Jake had other plans for us to get back there.

When we were within a couple of blocks of the mansion, Jake had the driver pull the ambulance into a gas station parking lot.

"Why are we stopping?" I asked.

"I need to check with my men and make sure Cynthia left."

"Oh." I should have thought of that.

Jake pulled out his cell phone. I assumed he was calling his guy, girl, whatever. He was calling someone. He grunted several times and then hung up and stuck his phone back into his pocket.

"Okay, we can go, but keep it cool. There's a guard at the gate."

I frowned instantly. "Cynthia is employing guards now?"

She hadn't been in the past.

"After she followed you guys to the bank, I expected it," Jake said as he glanced toward the back of the ambulance where I was sitting. "Just remember to let me do all the talking."

Yeah, not a problem.

When we reached the gate, the driver went slowly up the drive and then stopped. I held my breath as he rolled down the window.

Jake leaned closer and then glanced down at a computer attached to the dashboard. "We got an emergency call of someone having trouble breathing."

"I can't let you in without authorization," the guard replied.

"It's an emergency call, man," Jake snapped. "Someone is having trouble breathing. You have to let us in."

"I've been ordered to not let anyone in or out, sir. I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

Jake's eyebrows snapped together. "What's your name?"

"Douglas Crammer, sir."

At least the guy was polite.

Jake hit the mic communicator attached to the shoulder of his uniform. "Control, I have a security guard here refusing us entry. What do you want us to do?"

"Do you want me to dispatch authorities?" someone asked, surprising me.

I was really curious who was on the other end of that mic unit, but I wasn't about to ask, not right now.

"Yeah, you might want to do that, Control," Jake said. "The call said this guy was having trouble breathing and he has a prior medical condition. If we don't get in there soon, he's going to die."

"Dispatching the police now," dispatch said.

"Wait, wait, wait," the guard said. "Look, I'm just a security guard. I don't want to be responsible for someone dying."

"Then let us in," Jake insisted. "You can even go in with us if that would make you feel better, but we need to assess the patient before we can even start to treat him. Every second counts."

"Just go," the guard said. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

I grabbed onto my seat with one hand as the ambulance lurched as it took off up the driveway. I pressed the other one against my chest, hoping my rapidly beating heart wasn't going to jump out.

When we stopped, Jake glanced at me. "Grab that red bag by your feet. We'll get the gurney. And remember, let me do the talking."

I grabbed the bag without answering. Jake did say to let him do the talking after all.

When the back door to the ambulance opened, I hopped out.

"What's your first name?" Jake asked.

"James." I frowned. "Why?"

"I don't want to use your real name. Too much chance of someone knowing who you are. How about Jimmy?"

"I suppose that will do."

"Then let's go, Jimmy." Jake led the way to the front door and then knocked.

It was answered by an older man in a dark suit. I remember him from before and knew he was the butler. "May I help you?" the man asked.

"We received an emergency call about a man having trouble breathing," Jake said, giving the butler the same story he'd given the man at the gate. "The security guard let us in."

The butler glanced toward the grand staircase for a moment before stepping back. "Up the stairs, first room on the left."

My heart pounded in my chest as I followed after Jake as he went up the stairs. He slowed when we reached the door the butler had indicated and glanced over his shoulder at me.

"I hope the cook came through."

Him and me both.

Jake opened up the door and peeked inside the room. I don't know what he saw, but he opened up the door and walked inside. I hurried in after him, pausing just inside the doorway.

It wasn't a large room, but it wasn't small either. Medium maybe? Big enough to hold the queen size bed where an old man laid sleeping, a dresser, and a simple chair in the corner.

My nose wrinkled in disgust at the stale, dirty smell of the air. There was a slight chemical smell that went with it. You'd think if someone was sick, the person taking care of them would want to make sure their surroundings were as clean and fresh smelling as possible.

"Go check on the patient," Jake said. "I'll look for the nurse."

I nodded to Jake and hurried over to the bed. I set the bag down on the floor and then sat on the side of the bed, leaning down close to the old man.

"Mr. Prescott, can you hear me?" I asked in a low tone. If the nurse was still around, I didn't want her to hear me.

It took a moment, but the man opened his eyes and stared up at me. I wasn't sure how much to tell him, or even how much he'd understand.

"Mr. Prescott, my name is Beck. Your son, Scotty sent me."

Prescott's eyes widened, telling me that he was somewhat lucid.

I gave him a smile, hoping to settle his nerves. "My friends and I are going to get you out of here and get you to Scotty, okay?"

The man's finger twitched and he lifted his arm just a bit as if trying to gesture to something. I glanced around, unsure of what he was trying to point at until my eyes fell on a picture on the nightstand.

I reached over and grabbed it, holding it up to him. "Is this what you want?"

A small, almost unnoticeable nod.

I set the picture on his chest. "I'll make sure it goes with you."

I quickly tucked it under the blanket when the bedroom door opened, but it was only the others with the gurney. I grabbed the picture again, stuck it in the paramedic bag, and then stepped back so the others could lift him onto the gurney.

Jake joined me while I watched Mr. Prescott being moved to the gurney. He handed me a small garbage bag of stuff. "Put these in the med bag until we get out of here. It's the medication prescribed to Prescott along with every bit of paperwork I could find on his condition. The doctor is going to want to look at all of that."

I quickly did as he instructed. I wouldn't know the first thing about medication or medical paperwork. I assumed whoever Jake had waiting in the wings did.

They were just settling Mr. Prescott on the gurney and strapping him down when the door opened and an older woman walked in. She stopped in the doorway and glanced at all of us.

"Which one of you is Beck?"

My eyes rounded and I slowly held up my hand. A moment later, my jaw dropped when the woman smiled at me. "Maxwell did say you were beautiful."

I ignored the chuckle that came from Jake.

"Are you Mrs. Agnes?"

"I am." She held out a black suitcase. "I need you to give this to Maxwell and Mr. Prescott after you get them both out of here. It's everything I've been able to save over the years and keep that witch from throwing out."

I grunted when I took the bag and the left side of my body got jerked down from the weight. Who knew the old cook was that strong? She'd been carrying it like it was nothing.

"I'll carry that for you, Beck," Jake said as he took the suitcase from me. "You need to carry the paramedic bag. Also, look in there and see if there's an oxygen mask. We told the butler and the guard at the gate that we'd received a call that someone was having trouble breathing. It'll make our story more believable if someone actually has an oxygen mask on."

I dropped down to a squat and started searching through the bag until I found an oxygen mask and a tank. I handed both to Jake. While he went to put them on Mr. Prescott, I zipped the bag closed and then walked over to the cook.

"Thank you," I said. "Without your help, we never would have been able to get Mr. Prescott out of here. It would have broken Scotty's heart to leave his father behind."

"You can thank me by getting them both out of here and never coming back."

I wasn't sure I could do that. At some point, they'd have to come back and deal with the house and company, unless they could do that remotely or send someone in their stead.

"I'll take care of them," I replied instead.

She nodded. "You need to go. I don't know how long Mrs. Prescott is going to be gone."

"Thank you, again."

Now, we just needed to get out of here.