Page 74 of Protected By the Billionaire Ex-SEAL

“Yeah, from all three women. With all the evidence stacked up against him, including the illegal firearm, knife, and drugs, he should’ve been in for years, decades even, but they bungled up the evidence and he only got two years on a technicality.”

I admit that hearing that pisses me off. It should be more than that. Two years is nothing. I tell the sheriff about the situation with Raven, which gets him even more riled up.

“What a bastard. I’ll be glad to cooperate with you if you want to file charges, too.”

We discuss it some more, with him promising to let me know if anything else comes up. With nothing else to do, I head to my Nashville place, already deciding to stay here to ensure Sam remains in jail and doesn’t get bailed out. Again, I keep the information to myself for now, wanting to tell Raven the truth when everything’s already ironed out.

But it’s good news. It’s the kind of news that I know will finally ease her worries, assured that Sam can’t physically get to her again.

And it’s the kind of news that I know will finally change our working relationship.

Chapter 24

Raven

By the time I spill my stomach’s contents into the toilet bowl for the third time today, Honey Lee is following me to the bathroom and nagging up a storm.

“I told you. Something’s wrong. You can’t just stay here and keep puking your guts out. We have to go to the doctor.”

“It’s just the stomach flu.”

But I know it’s not just the stomach flu—I can feel it, especially since the nausea is crazier than ever and reminiscent of something I’ve suspected for a while. I clutch my stomach and rub it to soothe it while my cousin kneels beside me to pat my back. Then she helps me on my feet.

“Come on. I’ve prepared some chamomile tea. I find it very useful when I need something soothing during my sick days.”

I sit on the edge of the bed while she hands me a cup, muttering a thank you while I sip delicately. Every sip warms my throat and I feel much better, but it doesn’t make the sick feeling completely go away.

Honey Lee, meanwhile, is puttering around the guestroom, which I failed to keep tidy when I started getting sick again. That was three days ago—a couple of days after Christian left.

“I checked with Christian and he told me he’ll still be in Nashville for another day or two to take care of business. But I know he’ll want to come home if you ask him to…”

“No.” I shake my head, then freeze when the action makes it spin. “That’s not necessary. I’m safe here with you guys and he won’t be able to cure this.”

“I know, but I’m sure he’ll be worried if he knew and he wants to take care of you.”

“Exactly. He’ll be worried and distracted. He doesn’t need that.”

Honey Lee frowns in disagreement, but she doesn’t comment. She replaces my blankets with fresh, lavender-scented ones, and all I want to do is crawl under them and shut out the world with how awful my body is feeling. But I also know I can’t keep living like this, especially when my suspicions will probably plague me even more strongly tonight.

“I think you’re right. I should go to the doctor.”

Honey Lee perks up. “Yes. Good idea. I’m so glad you agree.” But her enthusiasm wanes as she bites her lip. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you have morning sickness.”

I startle at the words. Then I shake my head more fervently, relieved when it doesn’t spin this time. “Or it can just be a simple flu.”

“Hmm. Have you had your period recently?”

“I’m a bit late this month. But it’s probably because of stress, Honey Lee.”

“Okay.”

She nods at my denial, unfazed, but I’m clinging to it like it’s my last hope. I can’t be pregnant. Sure, we didn’t use a condom, but I’m on the pill, aren’t I?

As far as I know, the pill works perfectly, if not ninety-nine percent of the time—and there’s no way I’m part of the one percent, right? It’s almost miraculous if I am. Close to impossible.

---