She slid her hand over her still-flat belly and exhaled. Apparently, she was going to have a baby.
But without hurting her father, jeopardizing her career, and tearing apart her community, how? And how would Pierce feel about this?
Mechanically, Brea eased into her car and headed back to Sunset. Traffic was light. She didn’t remember the drive.
When she reached home, she parked and ran into the house. She tore off her clothes and slid back into her pajamas. The house was so quiet. She felt utterly alone—shocked and scared. Eventually, she’d have to get up and face her problems like an adult, and she knew her tears were pointless. But right now she needed to shed them, just like she needed reassurance that somehow, someway, everything would be all right.
She needed Cutter.
He was in Dallas, working. Normally, she would never call while he was on the job. But he would hear and understand her like no one else.
Brea grabbed her phone from the purse she’d discarded at the foot of her bed and dialed her best friend. Before he even answered, more tears sprang to her eyes.
“Hey, Bre-bee.”
“C-Cutter, hi. I hate to call you…but I could use an ear.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This is probably a bad time, and I’m sorry. Really. But I don’t know where else to turn.”
“Slow down. It’s okay. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I woke up this morning and I felt horrible. I didn’t know what was wrong and then I… Ugh. I’m talking too much. But I’m afraid to just blurt everything. You’re going to be mad. Everyone will be shocked. Daddy will be disappointed. I just”—her breaths came so quick and shallow that she feared hyperventilating—“don’t know how to say this but…I think I’m pregnant.”
“What?” he growled. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“No. I bought a test at a drugstore in Lafayette and took it in their bathroom. I’m still in shock. B-but I’m shaking and I can’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do.”
“Make an appointment today. Find out for sure. If you’re right, this isn’t going to go away.”
“I can’t see Dr. Rawson. The first thing he’ll do is tell my dad. I know he’s not supposed to but…” She shook her head and tried to think of solutions instead of continuing to dump problems on him. “What about that clinic near your apartment?”
“Fine. Call there. But you need to see a doctor before you make any decisions. I’ll go with you if you want. I’m home in a week. I promise not to confront Walker until then. But if you’re right—”
“You can’t say or do anything to him.”
“The hell I can’t.”
“He doesn’t know yet. He left on a mission last night, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. He’s gone after the guy who held him captive in Mexico, so I don’t even know if he’ll return in one piece. I’m worried.” She clutched the phone. “You have to promise me—”
“That when he shows his ugly face I won’t kill him? I can’t promise that.”
“Cutter, you aren’t helping.”
“All right.” His voice took a gentle turn. “I promise we’ll figure this out. I’ll take care of you. I always have. I always will. And I hate to do this to you now, but I have to go.”
“Are you in a situation?”
“Client meeting.”
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m glad you called me. As soon as I’m free, we’ll talk, okay?”
“Thanks.”
The sudden silence in her ear told her that Cutter had ended the call. The sound was lonely and terrifying. And when she darkened her own device and tossed it on the bed, she lowered her head in her hands and started to cry again.
Chapter Two
Wednesday, October 29
Orlando, Florida
“You realize this is the work of our internal mole,” Hunter Edgington said over the phone.
“I’d come to the same conclusion.” One-Mile paced the small bedroom in the thoroughly average house located in Orlando, itching to get out. “Who else knew you’d stashed Valeria Montilla on the outskirts of St. Louis?”
“While she and her son lived there alone? Only Logan, Joaquin, and me. After we pulled Laila out of Montilla’s Mexican compound when we rescued you? We had to make all those last-minute arrangements to get her to Valeria’s, so the whole damn team knew.”
“Which means we’re back to square one trying to figure out who the fucking traitor is.”
“For now,” Hunter admitted. “But it appears you’ve relocated Valeria and her family to Florida without Montilla being any wiser.”
At least something good had come out of this shit show. “Who on our team knows Valeria’s new location?”
“Besides Logan and Joaquin? Just you.”
“I suggest we keep it that way.”
“That’s the consensus here. The fewer people who know, the better.”
“Yep.” But it was bugging the shit out of One-Mile not to know who had tipped off Montilla about Valeria’s St. Louis safe house. Which asshole on his team couldn’t be trusted?
It was also bugging the shit out of him to be away from Brea.
When Hunter had called and said it was imperative he get to St. Louis and relocate Montilla’s estranged wife from her no-longer-safe house before sunrise, One-Mile had just asked Brea to move in with him. The timing of the mission had sucked. He’d hated leaving her so abruptly, especially right after dumping his daddy bullshit on her with no explanation. But she loved him, and he loved her. Lives had been on the line.
So he’d left and caught a charter flight to St. Louis. By three thirty a.m., he’d been pounding on Valeria’s door. Telling her that the feds had spotted her estranged husband in the area hadn’t gone over well. Insisting the terrified woman pack up her infant son and her sister, along with whatever they could fit in his rented van so they could be gone before sunrise had been met with rants and tears. But she’d done it.
For the next two days, he’d driven two tense women and a fussy baby halfway across the country to this rental in Orlando—and safety. But One-Mile was still on edge.
He hadn’t talked much to Brea in almost a week. He hadn’t been worried at first. He’d been busy as hell until Sunday, and he’d known she spent that day with her dad and the church. But he’d only heard snippets from her on Monday and Tuesday. Yes, she’d locked his house up behind her. No, she wasn’t angry that he’d had to leave. Of course she wanted to talk when he got home.
But there was something she wasn’t saying. Something bothering her. He was itching to get home and address it.
“You haven’t seen any sign of Montilla since you arrived, right?” Hunter asked.
“No.” He’d been in Orlando over seventy-two hours. And he knew damn well they hadn’t been followed. “I think the coast is clear. Do we have any idea where Montilla is now or if he’s figured out his wife has relocated?”