In Protective Custody. Beth Cornelison
station that his sister had awakened.
“What happened?” Emily whispered.
Max grinned slightly, not really surprised that his younger sister ignored his directions. In twenty-one years, she’d never done what he told her. The spoiled brat.
“Don’t try to talk. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and you need to save your strength.”
He stroked her fingers with his thumb, and a lump swelled in his throat. God in heaven, how did he tell his sister she was a widow? A single mother? They’d lost so much in their lives already. Both of their parents. Max’s unborn child, then his marriage. Now Joe.
Focus on the positive. Emily’s baby was doing well.
A nurse in purple scrubs poked her head into the room. “Yes?”
“She’s awake.”
“Wonderful.” The nurse hustled toward the bed and checked the machines hooked to Emily. She took Emily’s blood pressure then smiled at Max. “Her vitals have improved. I’ll get the doctor.”
He nodded in response then turned back to Emily when the nurse exited.
“Hey, congratulations. You’re a mama. The doctors delivered your son by C-section a couple of nights ago, and he’s doing great. Six pounds, five ounces of future starting quarterback. I’m saving a spot for him on my Pee Wee team.” He hoped the cheer in his voice didn’t sound as fake to her as it did to him.
Emily’s eyes warmed, and a faint smile touched her lips. “He’s…okay?”
Her whisper was barely audible now. He could tell even the few words she’d spoken had taxed her limited strength.
“He’s perfect. And he needs his mama to rest now. He needs you to get well.” Max brushed a wisp of hair, as black as his own, from his sister’s forehead then gave her cheek a kiss. “And so do I.”
She closed her eyes, probably succumbing to fatigue rather than in acquiescence, since Emily lived to defy him.
Her marriage to a man she barely knew and her immediate pregnancy at the tender age of twenty-one typified her willfulness. God, please let her live to defy me again.
The door opened, and Emily’s in-laws stepped into the room.
“There’s our girl,” Joe’s father said with a politician’s smile.
Mrs. Rialto, whose puffy red eyes and splotchy face bore evidence of her grief over her son’s death, cast a watery-eyed glance to Emily.
A nurse in scrubs caught Anthony Rialto’s arm. “Excuse me, sir. You’ll have to wait outside. Only one visitor at a time.”
Joe’s father scoffed and, giving the nurse a superior grin, lifted the woman’s hand from his suit sleeve. “Nonsense. We’re family. We only want a minute with her.” His expression grew more ingratiating, though still edged with impatience. “Surely you can bend the rules this once.”
Max felt Emily’s grip on his fingers tighten slightly. He glanced at her, but Emily’s attention was focused on the Rialtos.
“Sir, the rules—” the nurse said.
“Only a minute,” Anthony interrupted. He winked at the nurse and placed a hand at his wife’s back to escort her farther into the room.
The nurse sighed her exasperation but stepped out of the room without pressing the issue.
Emily’s eyes widened as her in-laws approached, and what little color she had in her cheeks paled. Her reaction puzzled Max, put him on alert. Though wary, Max rose to greet the couple, extending a hand to Anthony.
“Well, well, Emily. So glad you’re feeling better. We have business to discuss.” Ignoring Max’s offered handshake, Joe’s father swept past Max with the air of a man used to having his way. The wealthy New Orleans business tycoon exuded power and an iron will.
Max was unmoved by the man’s credentials in the business world. He’d protect his sister’s interests at any cost.
As her father-in-law approached the bedside, Emily shrank into the mattress.
“B-business?” Emily’s wary eyes cut to Max in a silent plea for help.
“Not now.” Max grabbed the older man’s shoulder, and his grip bit into the expensive silk suit Anthony wore.
The man sent him a dark glower and shook off Max’s hand. “Now! The baby could be released as early as tomorrow night, after Joe’s funeral. Besides, we can’t wait around and risk her dying without signing.”
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