Some of them wanted Doyle, or Frost, or one of the other fathers to be named prince so they could be their guard. Traditionally, making me pregnant would have made the father a prince and future king, or at least royal consort. But with so many fathers, there was no precedent for making them all princes.
I sat with the women and just listened to them talk about normal things, and realized that sitting in the kitchen at my Gran's or in the kitchen with Maggie Mae had been the closest to normal I'd ever known.
For the third time that day I felt tears at the back of my eyes, in my throat. It was that way every time I thought about Gran. It had only been a month since her death. I guess I was entitled.
Matilda said, "Are you well, Princess?"
"Merry," I said. "Call me Merry."
That earned me another bright smile. Then there was a sound behind us.
We all turned to see the glass begin to crack under the weight of the reporters crushing one another against it.
Doyle and Frost were at my side. They got me to my feet, and we were running for the counter and the back area. Agnes picked up the little boy and we ran for cover. We heard screams, and the glass gave with a high, thin cracking.
Chapter Twelve
There were ambulances, police, and glass everywhere. None of us in the shop were hurt, but some of the paparazzi were taken to the hospital. Most of the people plastered against the glass had been photographers trying to get that one special picture that would make them rich. Certain shots were rumored to go for hundreds of thousands of dollars. After today, I believed the rumors.
Lucy was standing over me as the ambulance medic checked me out. My protests of, "I'm fine. I wasn't hurt," fell on deaf ears. When Lucy had found me inside the glass-covered deli she'd been pale. I looked up at the tall brunette and realized that though we might never go shopping together, she was my friend.
The emergency medical technician pulled the blood pressure cuff off my arm and pronounced, "Everything seems fine. Blood pressure, all of it. But I'm not a doctor, and I'm sure as heck not a baby doc."
"So you think she should go to the hospital?" Lucy asked.
The EMT frowned and I felt his dilemma. If he said no and he was wrong, he was f**ked. But there were other people who were actually injured, and if he left one behind to take me, just in case, and the one left behind died, he was also screwed.
She turned to Doyle and Frost for backup. "Tell her she needs to go to the hospital."
They exchanged a look, then Doyle gave a small nod as if to say "Go ahead," and Frost answered, "We don't 'tell' Merry what to do, Detective. She is our princess."
"But she's also carrying your babies," Lucy said.
"That doesn't give us the right to order her around," he said.
Doyle added, "I expected you to understand that better than most, Detective Tate."
She frowned at both of them, then turned back to me. "You promise me you never fell or had something fall on you?"
"I promise," I said.
She took in a lot of air, let it out slowly, then nodded. "Fine. Okay. I'll let it go. If none of you are worried, I don't know why I bother."
I smiled up at her. "Because you are my friend, and friends worry about each other."
She looked almost embarrassed, then grinned at me. "Fine. Go enjoy what's left of your Saturday."
Doyle reached out a hand and I let him help me stand though I really didn't need it. They'd both been calmer than Lucy, but then they'd been with me the entire time. They knew nothing had happened to me physically, but they were still more careful of me than they had been before. It was both touching and a little irritating. I was worried that as the pregnancy progressed it might become a lot less touching and a lot more irritating, but that was a worry for another day. We were free to head for the beach, and there was still daylight to enjoy it. It was all good.
The EMT asked, "So I'm done here with the princess?"
"Yeah," Lucy said, "go find someone who's bleeding to take for a ride."
He smiled, obviously relieved, and hurried off to find someone who really did need a ride to the hospital.
"I'll give you uniforms to escort you back to your car." She sort of nodded toward the press that was being held back by tape and barriers. Oddly, the paparazzi who had gotten injured were now news themselves. I wondered if they were enjoying being on the other side of the camera.
"Some of them will follow us to the beach," Frost said.
"I can try to lose them."
"No, I do not want to see what that would mean on the roads to the beach." Doyle said it very quickly and even Lucy picked up his unease.
"So tall, dark, and deadly is still not comfy riding in regular cars." She addressed the comment to me.
I smiled and shook my head.
"I prefer the limo; at least then I can't see the road so clearly."
Lucy smiled and shook her head. "You know, it makes me like you better that you're afraid of something, Doyle."
He frowned at her, and probably would have commented, but her phone rang. She checked, and saw that she needed to answer it. She held up a finger for us to wait.
"Tell me this is a joke," she said. Her tone was anything but amused.
"How," she asked, then listened and said, "Sorry doesn't fix this." She got off the phone and cursed softly but completely under her breath.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"While we were down here cleaning up this mess our witness fled the scene. We can't find her."
"When did she get...?"
"He doesn't know. Apparently when there were fewer of us, Gilda's entourage got braver, and when they calmed it down the witness was gone." I noticed that she was careful not to say Bittersweet's name out in public. It was a good precaution when murders are magical; you never know who, or how, someone is listening.